I started reading this book on cannibalism. Don’t ask me why…I guess it’s so taboo that it intrigues me. Strange how it turns out that the human body is one of the richest sources of trendy protein… but no-can-do. Besides, the idea of consuming a big slab of human flesh is enough to make me toss my Twinkies. Still, the book details many examples of folks who sing its’ praises.
For instance, in Britain’s Iron Age, the Celts (who apparently often found themselves with the flesh munchies) chowed down on anyone who showed signs of weakness. Any poor sap who keeled over from an overindulgent happy hour triggered a fire starter frenzy. With everyone rubbing two sticks together and blowing in a feverishly collective spasm, the mob would then baste the pickled chap and shuttle him off to the luau.
It is written that during a particular four day binge in 1487 (forever known as the year the meat tenderizer was invented…I just made that up) the Aztec Indians supposedly sacrificed about 80,000 prisoners, roasting them to a golden brown perfection, and then served ‘em up hot.
The late Joseph Campbell, who was apparently lucky enough himself to escape the skewer, documented a ritual in one of his books of a New Guinea cannibalistic tradition that was supposed to enact all sides of life and death.
First the tribe enters a sacred field where they chant and beat the hell out of drums for five days, culminating in a full-fledged horn-dog orgy. I can only imagine that after 120 hours of a non-stop head-banging drum circle…even the biggest prude in the tribe would have gladly dropped her knickers in exchange for a silencing of the lambasting.
In this particular boink binge, young boys are introduced to sex for the first time… with a virgin. (Sure they’re hard to find nowadays, but I’m working on pitching this as a reality TV pilot for the Playboy channel with a 20 episode option.)
Campbell wrote, “There is a great shed of enormous logs supported by two uprights. A young woman comes in ornamented as a deity, and she is brought to lie down in this place beneath the great roof. The boys, six or so, with the drums and chanting in full-swing, are given their first experience of intercourse with the girl. And when the last boy is with her in full embrace, the supports are withdrawn, the logs are dropped, and the couple is killed. There is the union of male and female…as they were in the beginning. There is the union of begetting and death. They are both the same thing. Then the couple is pulled out and roasted, eaten that very evening. The ritual is the repetition of the original act of the killing of a god followed by the coming of food from the dead savior.”
Okay, I have to ask…what was the whacko medicine man smoking when he came up with this idea? (And can I get some from the medical marijuana dispensary down the street?) Can you imagine the frenzy the first time it was suggested? “Hey guys, stop the chanting and drums for a second. How about we build a collapsible Burning Man-size lean-to and grab a couple virgins…?”
How did they decide who would be the last poor stiff, and how stoned was that final dude when he agreed to climb aboard the BBQ pit and take the sloppy second plunge? Good Lord.
I mean the way I see it the girl is screwed any way you look at it, but do the guys draw straws? Or play musical chairs for pole positions in the conga line-up?
When the drum stops, is that the coitus interruptus signal to get off the well-deflowered chick pronto because the pick-up sticks are going down?
No question, the last guy is totally fucked too…but what a way to go! He has to watch his childhood buddies get it on with the well-pollinated Queen Bee, and then is left to make one feeble stab at achieving an orgasm before succumbing to a flaccid weenie roast below.
Damn we’ve come a long way…These thoughts crash landed in my head at our annual backyard family Labor Day barbecue as Grandpa Ned passed out in the hammock. In an act of civilized evolutionary progress he was spared a fire pit roasting…in favor of burgers, dogs, and s’mores!