Monday, February 23, 2009

Peas in a Pod

I've often heard the expression, "They are as alike as two peas in a pod." The analogy is a fair one, because if, as I myself have done on many an occasion, you open up a pea pod and peek inside, you usually find that there's little, if anything, to differentiate one pea from its neighbour. Indeed, peas in general, not just in the one pod, have a boring uniformity, even unto their frozen brethren. This means that people who are employed to shell them probably experience little, if any job satisfaction.

Then again, I suppose, very occasionally, a worm or grub will pop out, too. While, in the grand scheme of things, this isn't really on a par with, say, planting the first flag on Everest's summit of discovering the source of the Nile, a professional pea-sheller can maybe dine out on the experience for a few weeks. But only if he mixes with fellow pea-shellers when he does so. If he bursts into a room full of, for example, CERN physicists on the brink of perfecting nuclear fusion, and blurts out excitedly news of his find, it could well put them off, such that they'll forget what they were talking about. One can only speculate on how many cures for cancer, inexpensive fossil fuel alternatives, and genuinely effective penis extension creams have been lost to the world because of the rash actions of a professional pea-sheller interrupting the proceedings by brandishing a newly discovered maggot.

In my opinion, to make sure this never happens again, pea shellers should be allowed to inscribe their names and the date of shelling on each pea. This would boost their job satisfaction rating markedly, and they then wouldn't go putting the nuclear scientists off their stride. In fact, their lives in general could be enhanced. For instance, they could be eating egg, chips, and peas in a restaurant with their families, when suddenly, amongst all the others, they might catch sight of their own personal pea. With pride, they'd cry out "Look! That's one of mine! Oh joy!"

In fact, over time, some peas would attract a certain cachet. Those shelled by, say, Arnold Griffiths on such and such a date might become prized over others - the Mouton Cadets of the pea world, if you will. People would lay down a packet of Arnold Griffith 2008 frozen peas, for consumption only on special occasions. Thus would the humble pea be ennobled, together with those producing it.

The only disadvantage to all this is that some scientists could be sitting down to dinner, the solution to the problem of world hunger just about to pop into his head, when suddenly he discovers an Arnold Griffith 2008 amongst the other peas on his plate. I'd hope he'd be able to contain his excitement and concentrate on the research in hand but, realistically, I fear that all such thoughts would be doused by the exhilaration provoked by his find.

But it's still a small price to pay for making pea-shelling more interesting.

A typical pea


Anonymous said...

Gregor Mendel made peasc very interesting!In Brno,in 1867!

Joe Slavko said...

Don't talk to me about Gregor Mendel. You know what that arsehole did? He bred a strain of bees that were so fucking vicious that they had to be destroyed. Doubtless his pea hybrids were carnivorous, too.

Anonymous said...

He also bred a strain of killer monkeys that shot bees out of their mouths.

Joe Slavko said...

That was Hugo de Vries. And it was out of their arses, not their mouths. That's what made them killer monkeys in the first place.