Thanks to mad scientists, I am presently eating a seaweed rice cake. It looks like a regular rice cake upon which a machine has dumped a finely-shredded LP. The company that makes these things doesn't even tell you what kind of seaweed you're eating, or where it comes from. But I do suppose it's all one ocean, when you get right down to it. Last summer I bought some seaweed off a young woman who personally dives into the ocean and grabs the stuff. This was not a mermaid-type-situation; rather, it was an earnest situation. The old hedonistic entrepreneurship from below thing. She claimed that fried seaweed could supplant bacon in sandwiches. I considered this a specious claim, but went home and fried some like a good empiricist, and it turns out she was onto something. Perhaps this rice cake is unto something, too. I couldn't tell you what exactly, but I keep eating them. Have I ever mentioned the startling rice-puffing cannon I once witnessed in Vietnam? No, I have not. Some shit you just have to live for yourself.
