The convenience of restaurants and wooly mammoths

Several miles down the road, involving two left-hand turns along the way, stands a wonderful little Italian restaurant called Gino’s. They serve big portions: lasagna, manicotti, canneloni, ravioli, and various other forms of pasta that require fluency in Italian to identify and to eat. When the two primary cooks in my household are under the weather (as they currently are), dinner is solved by a quick zip down the road, followed by a triumphant return, crisp white bags redolent with marinara sauce borne in each hand.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is what the hunter-gatherer of the Stone Age has evolved into. Thank God for that. While I suppose I would appreciate knowing the skills involved in tracking down a wooly mammoth, clubbing him over the head and then dragging him home to char over the fire for dinner, I also appreciate the sophistication of the modern age.

Speaking of wooly mammoths, I wonder what they did for the typical Cro-Magnon’s cholesterol level? I can imagine the conversations between doctor and patient were interesting back then.

Doctor: Your cholesterol levels are too high. You need to cut back on meat. Eat more broccoli and brussels sprouts.

Ugluk: Urg.

Doctor: Also, you might not have noticed, but you have a wooly mammoth tusk stuck in your esophagus. As you don’t have comprehensive health insurance, that’ll be $250 for the visit and $500 for the tusk removal. The anesthesiologist fee is separate, or I can just bash you over the head with my club.

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