I like food, but I would never in a million-billion years ever refer to myself as a "foodie"... unless of course it's the act of getting naked and sexy in a large vat of spaghetti and red sauce, in which case, oh yeah, fuck yeah. Otherwise, eh, I just don't get it. Especially all the close-up photos of food that populate the social network stratosphere like so many constellations of big white pustules on a fat man's sedentary ass. I know, I know, to each his own and god bless every goofy one of us in this condition called online life, and that's exactly why I champion the flipside of the digestive system. Sure it may look all pretty and prim going in, but what comes out the other side has always been the true crapple of my eye. Wonders abound at every bacterial turn of the large and small intestine as the body goes about breaking shit down, and the final output is never anything short of a daily surprise and marvel—not to mention the occasional horror show if you go in for steamed beets now and then. Still, even though I may not be able to see eye-to-eye with the foodist culture, I can be just as equal opportunity as the next gay marriage, so here, in my elasticated opinion, is the example of a perfect platter* that demands respect and admiration for its overall representational presentation. Bravo!
(Photo by Trip Taylor; 2012)