More animation
Well, the issue of anthromorphized food and the human tendency to animate inanimate objects seems to have really resonated with people, and comments and new examples keep flooding in. Ok, just one new example, found by Prairie Landing, photographed and mailed by Colliculus, and shown here in all its glory.
Yes, we have spaghetti serving spaghetti, found on the back of a San Giorgio spaghetti box. Note the trappings of Italianate culinary authority: jaunty chef's hat, red kerchief, and white gloves and green shoes, neither of which are attached to arms or legs. (Also, I'm wondering if it's a bit unsanitary that all his spaghetti hair isn't tucked into his toque.) He looks like just the kind of chef that might serve pasta to the muy elegante Señor Chicken.
Unlike his compadre the Pollo Campero, just across the street, Señor Chicken (who is clearly comfortable in both Spanish and English) is not a chicken of the people. The cane, the bow tie, the cufflinks, the fancy suit -- weirdly truncated to make sure we see he still has chicken legs -- all let us know that this is a high-prestige chicken, one of a higher socioeconomic order, a chicken of class and refinement. One that is delicious with a side of rice and beans or plátanos verdes fritos.
Meanwhile, other people are seeing animals where one might only see plant matter. The Armenian Queen came into my office at work the other day, and interrupted our (kind of) work-related conversation to say, "Hey, look, Mickey Mouse."
And indeed, the rays of the setting sun do cause my office orchid to cast a Mickey Mouse shadow on the wall. I think she might have been inspired by the presence of my friend the penguin, who recently migrated seven miles through the Antarctic wilds of the Spookytown outskirts and now makes his home on my office desk.
You may recall that we were having issues staying upright, but it turns out that a hair clip and a monitor to lean on are all it takes. I'll have to remember that the next time I'm in a bar with the Monsignor past my bedtime and start falling asleep at the table.
Yes, we have spaghetti serving spaghetti, found on the back of a San Giorgio spaghetti box. Note the trappings of Italianate culinary authority: jaunty chef's hat, red kerchief, and white gloves and green shoes, neither of which are attached to arms or legs. (Also, I'm wondering if it's a bit unsanitary that all his spaghetti hair isn't tucked into his toque.) He looks like just the kind of chef that might serve pasta to the muy elegante Señor Chicken.
Unlike his compadre the Pollo Campero, just across the street, Señor Chicken (who is clearly comfortable in both Spanish and English) is not a chicken of the people. The cane, the bow tie, the cufflinks, the fancy suit -- weirdly truncated to make sure we see he still has chicken legs -- all let us know that this is a high-prestige chicken, one of a higher socioeconomic order, a chicken of class and refinement. One that is delicious with a side of rice and beans or plátanos verdes fritos.Meanwhile, other people are seeing animals where one might only see plant matter. The Armenian Queen came into my office at work the other day, and interrupted our (kind of) work-related conversation to say, "Hey, look, Mickey Mouse."
And indeed, the rays of the setting sun do cause my office orchid to cast a Mickey Mouse shadow on the wall. I think she might have been inspired by the presence of my friend the penguin, who recently migrated seven miles through the Antarctic wilds of the Spookytown outskirts and now makes his home on my office desk.
You may recall that we were having issues staying upright, but it turns out that a hair clip and a monitor to lean on are all it takes. I'll have to remember that the next time I'm in a bar with the Monsignor past my bedtime and start falling asleep at the table.
posted by Pangea at 8:35 PM
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