spEak You're bRanes

Would you eat cloned meat? Hmmm? This is a tricksy question. Very tricksy. Right up there with “I wonder what happened on Holby City last week?” and “What colour rosettes would you like us to wear while we get rich fucking you all over?”.

Fortunately, CKIGAB appears to have not only formulated a coherent question for the “Hard Problem” of meatiness (“What does the meat think?”) but also answered it.

16. At 09:40am on 26 Nov 2010, CKIGAB wrote:

yea i would eat it, its not like its been radiated or anything.

cloned meat it just 100% the same brain / it thinks the same way, & they; not like the meat has changed or any think.

that is 100% OK. as long as they get fed the same thing, its fine.

If you were to clone your self, you mussel would not change, it would be 100% the same, unless you pump weights, then it would; you would think the same way, and thats it.

Absoshittinglutely. If I cloned you and all your mussels, mixed you into some haddock, covered you in nice buttery mashed potato and then baked you for 20 minutes or so, not only would you think the same way, you’d also be very tasty indeed. Unless you pump sewage.

The RSC has a new stage

I saw many shows on the old proscenium stage at Stratford and have also seen many on thrust stages, even in the round, inc. a brilliant Lear and equally fine Winters Tale at the temporary theatre just down the road. I much prefer the new configuration because, without elaborate front-only illusory sets and 2D actors, the plays revert for their effect to the essence of Shakespeare – the spoken words, the words, the words, acted by people whose physical presence can be felt. I would avoid seats that were too far round the sides of the horseshoe – but then the old theatre had loads of even worse seats crammed into it.
Llandscape

Ah, the theatre, the theatre, theatre! The smell of the greasepaint, the greasepaint, the greasepaint! By the way, you sound a bit like you’re falling down a mineshaft. Or maybe loitering around the end of an echoey dream sequence and muttering about how something or other “will haunt you forever… forever.. forever”. But anyway, thanks for the tip about the seats halfway round the horseshoe, the horseshoe, the horseshoe. I’m off for a sandwich… a sandwich… a sandwich. Ham and pickle… ham and pickle… ham and pickle.