Having Loved Ones for Dinner

Before this goes much past the eighth word, let me say that I know that eating human flesh is widely regarded as a cultural taboo; somewhere between nose-picking and mom-dating. This restriction, however, applies mainly to humans. You may not want to meet a man-eating lion, tiger, bear, or shark in a dark alley, but even if they get their teeth into you, they’re not violating societal norms. They’re allowed to eat us, but we’re not; it doesn’t seem fair.

I have no desire to eat my fellow man, but I don’t like having things ruled out on my behalf. (There are other taboos with which I take no issue.) I would never eat a dog, or the man who eats the dog, but a man who eats a lot of pizza doesn’t sound so bad. I wouldn’t eat a total stranger; I can see where that might be questionable. I’d limit myself to eating friends and family who died of non-gross causes, and only in a very solemn ceremony, something between a baptism and a yacht christening.