Blood Money

Digging for Gold &
Finding a Rat, Instead

There are two sure ways to change one’s social status, we’re told: win the lotto, or find a lot of cash. What we’re rarely told about, though, is that pesky moral itch that troubles some: where’s this coming from? That’s surely enough to put a chill on that big blast in Vegas.
What if you’d come across a cache of dough? Yay, you’re rich. But wait, you’d say. Was this stolen from natives? Jews? drug fiends? If you’d been in the mountains of Poland, or in the sea and farms of Colombia, in the past few months, you’d certainly wonder. As you should.
So, fine, what if you don’t ask those questions? No sweat, take the money and run. Who knows, you may have people you want to help, will wind up running a charity or something. Good for you. Just be sure not call anyone from that bus station, once you’re done and broke.
The Internet is full of heart-warming stories, about nice chaps finding cash and instead of running, returning it all. Which is great but doesn’t turn anyone into a certified saint. Then again, there’s always the possibility that it’s too good to be true. A con. A hoax.
There are many ways to screw up the few chances one gets in this life. Even if there’s no nobility on starving, or natural enlightenment for being poor, time on Earth goes very fast. That means that, even making a wrong detour may lead you to redemption. Or something. Just don’t call, etc.

A 2-PART, 300-YEAR BATTLE
The Spanish Armada’s 1588 defeat to the British didn’t stop their nations’ centuries-old rivalry (which set today’s dominance of their languages). In May of 1708, one of its ships, the Galleón San José, lost another battle to the Royal Navy and sank off the coast of Cartagena, Colombia.
Last week, when Colombian President Juan Manuel Santos tweeted the wreck’s discovery, staking a claim over its estimated record $17 billion treasure, he immediately set up yet another 3-way battle, this (more)
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Dog Fare

Why the Large Fares Poorly
at Competitive Eating Shows

It’s always the skinny ones. No matter how poised to win, or driven to dominate their opponents, with a massive whale of a body to match the hype, the winner of the infamous Nathan’s Fourth of July hot-dog eating competition​ at Coney Island, New York City, has been always a size 30-32 regular type of body. The old Coney may be gone, but the winner of this or any year could fit right into its old glorious photos.
Hell, a diminutive Japanese man won it several times, and the former champion, whose family name is a nut, no less, won it eight times straight, only to be dethroned this year by, you guessed it, a smaller-sized man. What gives? The answer scratches dangerously close on the body stereotypes some use to put others down.
But if you can forget the PC etiquette for just a minute, you may wonder why this happens, that is, if a eating competition has even the clout to reflect the alimentary habits of the society at large which surrounds it, and promotes it as some kind of Roman circus, year in and year out. For more info on the subject, check Island, Coney, New York, et al.
Wouldn’t it be that fat people have already a ‘natural’ tendency to eat more than anyone else? And I mean, the ‘minority’ ones that are fat because indeed they love food as much as anybody else but can’t quite control the moment when hunger and food satisfaction switch to something more pathological and psychologically-tilted as a five-hour late night snacking binge and such.
Wouldn’t it be logical to expect that someone with a larger body type would be able to store more food at any moment’s notice, than a smaller person? Are we too far out of our depths to be puzzled at the fact that practice should make it at least more perfect the act of consuming calories and carbons and fat and proteins at a higher rate than those not er endowed with a larger stomach? We are.

EAT YOUR TROUBLES & SHAME AWAY
Finally, wouldn’t it be at least reasonable to expect that anyone with a taste for regularly downing a few burgers on a single sitting, along with several ounces of sugary soda, and maybe a pint or two of ice cream and cake, be somehow more capable of digesting it all at a quicker rate and, therefore, theoretically, be faster at getting ready for seconds?
Shouldn’t we be entitled to wonder that, at least for that reduced segment of fat people who do enjoy eating, or rather, eat it first, and maybe enjoy it after, and who seem capable to eat through happiness and grief at equal measures, would produce formidable professional eaters, impressing all those around them with the gargantuan amount of food that they can consume?
Well, apparently, not. As the fancy-named ‘industry’ of competitive eating has been showing, almost at the same Continue reading