[2108] in peace2
Re: Thurs (12/5): talk on child slavery in chocolate production
daemon@ATHENA.MIT.EDU (Dwayne Daughtry)
Wed Dec 4 10:35:45 2002
Message-Id: <5.0.2.1.2.20021204103506.00b034d0@hesiod>
Date: Wed, 04 Dec 2002 10:36:09 -0500
To: peace-announce@mit.edu
From: Dwayne Daughtry <daughtry@MIT.EDU>
In-Reply-To: <200212040343.WAA13262@melbourne-city-street.mit.edu>
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To Whom it may concern,
Please remove me from the peace announce list.
Thank You
Dwayne
At 10:43 PM 12/3/2002 -0500, you wrote:
>At 06:17 PM 12/3/02 -0500, George S Waksman wrote:
> >Look, if I didn't like slave chocolate I would have joined your little
> >cult. However, since I have obviously not joined a mailing list to get
> >your stuff, don't send me your crap. I mean, hell, everyone knows that
> >oompa-loopas make the best candy.
> >
> >-George Waksman
>
>Verily, what hath Yog wrought? I drown thee in flames!
>
>There's a time in every young boy's life, perhaps in Spring, in which
>something magical happens. To the sound of birdsong and angelic lutes, his
>testicles begin producing sperm, wondrous sperm, life-giving spermatozoa,
>whose infinite variety and potential speak volumes about the mystery of
>life. Obviously, that never happened to you, George. In fact, I would argue
>that you have never known the wonders of erection, let alone the yet more
>stultifying and majestic wonder of a creamy, sizable ejaculate. Emasculated
>in utero by your despairing mother's ingestion of the wonder-teratogen
>thalidomide, your unmanning is seconded only by your flippers and
>guilelessness. As it stands, I, and the other unfortunates party to your
>moronic drivel, must suffer forever with the knowledge that it did not kill
>you as intended.
>
>Of course, it is not my place to criticize your most excellent mother,
>whose moral stature and fuckability tower over all others. "Dearest
>Genevieve," I would exclaim, "Your asshole, much like that of Burroughs,
>would confound the Louvre; thusly I must pity its proximity to that
>diseased orifice which bore your son into this world. A little to the left,
>please." Then I would resume my grunted obscenities while reaming her out
>with my anus-destroying, elephantiasis-riddled monster cock.
>
>Indeed, your father must also be declared blameless. His philosophical and
>mathematical genius aside, you have rent his life and dreams asunder. I see
>him now in my mind's eye, the prematurely stooped and wizened "Old Man"
>Waksman, sobbing and gnashing his teeth. Driven mad by the Advent of the
>Waksmanian Selmanite era, he spends his days lost in childhood dreams from
>which he may never awaken. Your brothers, too, suffer from the Selmanite
>Touch, but their state is so pitiable I fear its description might shock my
>gentle readers. Still, I fear I must go on -- to believe in truth, as we of
>this Blessed Institute profess, we must never shy from its light, no matter
>how bright.
>
>Your middle brother, the most hardy and therefore least affected by the
>cloying sickness left as a calling card in your mother's newly
>Carlsbad-cavernous uterus, stands as an example to students of physiognomy.
>His heart-shaped face signifies impracticality, inattentiveness, and an
>unmanly sensitivity; his concave profile: shallowness, triviality, and
>tendency to charlatanry; his similarly concave forehead betrays
>cautiousness unto cowardice; his hooded, narrow eyes: envy and suspicion by
>turns; his widely-set eyebrows: malleability; his thin nose: irritability;
>his sensuous lips: hedonism and all its evils; his cleft chin: egotism;
>and, lastly, his pointed earlobes betray his deviously conniving spirit.
>One such as he must not be trusted.
>
>Your youngest brother, to my sadness, came to term before the putrid,
>fermenting unguent of Selmanite slime could dull his mind. Instead, he
>lives as a feral child, replete with the blood of your benighted neighbors'
>pets. His days are spent wallowing in a turbid shit-stream sewer, dug by
>his own clawed hands, deep within the rotting bowels of Concord. Mildewing
>in the dead earth, he schemes and plots the rising of his Master
>Nyarlathotep, the Black Avatar of the Outer Gods, whose Waksmaniacal
>allegiances cannot be questioned. Some say that once a year, during the
>Ligottian Greater Festival of Masks, Josephus Youngblood Waksman barks a
>demonic paean to his abhorrent brother over a candle of vomit, breast milk,
>and hymenal blood.
>
>In light of these great evils, any and all of sufficient faculties must
>come to the immediate conclusion: child slavery ain't no thing. However, I
>must admit that I am not unbiased on this issue. As Wallace Stevens has
>declared, I am the Emperor of Ice-Cream! In fact, I shuttle children yearly
>from the Arnold Air Society Christmas Party to Our Royal Ivoirian Chocolate
>Mine. It is for this reason that I appeal to you now: good help is hard to
>find. Much like the famed Hungarian, Countess Elizabeth Bathory, whose
>daily libations and baths of blood were intended to keep her young, I bathe
>daily in only the finest warm cocoa produced lovingly by the tiny hands of
>the children of Cote D'Ivoire.
>
>As you might imagine, this is a tremendous strain on Our Royal Pocketbook,
>and I have busied myself so with dalliances that the Empress has yet to
>bear any children worthy of mining the Imperial Cocoa Vein. What's more, my
>half-hearted attempts to vanquish the Dread Pirate Hershey and the
>Cadburian Horde have been met with chummy laughter and free rounds of
>gourmet cocoa from the Swiss Miss (subsidiary of ConAgra Foods), Cocoateer
>to the Emperor since 1913. Only the Papist Ghirardelli and the Cowardly
>Lady Godiva have succumbed to my fearsome Frozen Scepter, and, really...
>They were little challenge. In this business, it's quantity, not quality,
>that counts.
>
>Although I fear I stoop below my worth to ask you this: where'd you get
>those Oompa-Loompas?
>
>Yours in Christ, Whose Holy Bones guide Our Rocky Road,
>Emperor Shervin the Double-Dipped and Malted
>
>Postscript to Ms. Hildebrandt: Do not send HTML-formatted messages. To
>paraphrase a friend, perhaps you should develop some social consciousness
>before exposing jaded nihilists to your baby-loving screed.
>
> >Anke Hildebrandt wrote:
> >
> >><html>
> >><br><br>
> >><br>
> >><div align="center"><font size=4><b>Child Slaves: An Ingredient You
> >>Wouldn't Expect In Your Chocolate<br>
> >></font>Thursday, December 5<br>
> >> 7:00 PM, room 4-231<br><br>
> >>a talk by Steven R. L. Millman<br><br>
> >><br>
> >></b></div>
> >>A talk about what can go wrong with globalization and FREE GOURMET
> >>CHOCOLATE (no slavery added) to taste.<br><br>
> >>*/*\*/*\*/*\*/*\*/*\*/*\*/*\*/*\*/*\*/*\*/*\*/*\*/*\*/*\*/*\*/*\*/*\<br>
> <br>
> >>Event sponsored by Students for Global Sustainability and the Graduate
> >>Students Council. Chocolates donated by Scharffen Berger!<br><br>
> >><b>Abstract:<br>
> >></b>It is one of the cruelest ironies of the modern world that children
> >>in rich, industrialized nations eat chocolate everyday made with cocoa
> >>grown and harvested by child slaves their own age in the Ivory
> >>Coast. Some are as young as eight years old, stolen away from their
> >>homes and families, barely fed, and savagely beaten if they work too slow
> >>or attempt to escape. Ivorian cocoa (~45% of all cocoa produced) is
> >>used by nearly all of the major chocolate companies, and represents a
> >>crown jewel in what can go wrong with globalization and poor planning in
> >>sustainable development. <br><br>
> >>For more information, see
> >><a href="http://www.radicalthought.org/"
>eudora="autourl">http://www.radicalth
> >>ought.org</a></html>
