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The Evolutionary Failure of Eating Eggs

The root of disgust is a lack of familiarity - things are repugnant to our senses if their ingredients, origin, or effects are unknown, or if we don't associate them with our typical diet. Cuy, a Peruvian dish, requires the skinning and boiling of a guinea pig. Surströmming, a stenchy Swedish fermented herring, often elicits a technicolor yawn upon tourist consumption. Bull ding-a-lings (penises) are often consumed in Bolivia for their purported health benefits and low cholesterol. Is your appetite piqued? No, but that’s okay. These foods are most likely unappealing to us because we were never acquainted with them. Disgust is natural. Disgust is subjective, entirely reliant on perspective. Disgust, in its most innocent form, isn’t judgmental - it’s strategic. Being curbed from consuming unfamiliar or unsafe foods is a miraculous evolutionary tool. Ancient peoples that ate bad meat or fecal matter did not last long, and those who did paid their weight in spew and cold sweat. Also, one can’t forget how popular poisoning was during the Romantic period!


We have well established that disgust is valuable, so long as we overcome it when needed and don’t allow it to slip into xenophobia. But, what about the foods that aren’t considered disgusting, even though they should be?


Hen fruit. Ovals. Chicken droppings. Magic poultry poops. Butt plops. Bum buns. EGGS. Yes, eggs - the most objectively revolting yet casually consumed food on the planet. I am no vegan, although perhaps I should be, but tell me how it’s mentally sound to extract flourescent white orbs from the anal glands of genetically screwed over, flightless birds? You can’t. Eggs lose their appeal as soon as you lose the frills and describe them for what they are. Most of our diet required an unorthodox discovery by a creepy farmer - we have dairy products because someone, somewhere, somehow got the idea to squeeze a teat. Eggs, however, are one weird barn discovery that I can’t rationalize. To eat an egg is an obviously concerning choice, and I am astounded that more of my peers don’t share this perspective. I will admit that I tend to think in black and white, that my opinions are often senselessly strong, but this is the one hill I will die on - pridefully and publicly. I know this reads as sardonic, but I am dead serious.


Eggs are weird looking, like little aliens. They are untrustworthy, a terrifying uncanny valley imposter within the American diet. The intense contrast between the suspiciously perfect yellow orb and surrounding white ring, paired with the unnatural neon intensity of both colors, makes me feel as though I am looking at something that is only pretending to be real. They look like a sad imitation of Saturn. The whites of eggs blind me and feed me lies. I fear them - show me a horror movie called “Sunny Side Up” and I will react more intensely than I would to any Kubrick flick. Their texture is also repulsive, regardless of preparation: sickeningly slimy, confusingly elastic, and flatly chewy. I weep helplessly anytime a bread recipe requires interaction with those little pale goblins, the mere sight of them sends me into peril. Their taste, though, is the real kick to the groin. Everyone who says they like eggs is lying, denying it only demonstrates commitment to the act. Never before had I tasted something that was flavorless and retched at the same time, until I had it scrambled. They produce a flavor profile that is pungently sulfuric, grossly metallic, and ultimately memorable for the wrong reasons. Eggs represent a paradox of the laws of flavor and a failed embryo, and their name is stupid. So long as I’ve been sentient, every fleeting moment of enjoyment I have had eating eggs died the moment I remembered I was eating eggs. I would rather consume Cuy, Surströmming, or even bull schlongs. They are, in a word, abominational.


Humans eat spheric excrements from strange birds. I know. Disgust failed us! We were not grossed out by the one food we were supposed to be, and I see its evil consequences in hollandaise and omelets. I live in a personal hell, but maybe it doesn’t have to be that way. I have gifted you with the information to be able to say no to eggs. Let us avenge disgust’s honor! The presence of food items in our lives is contingent upon their demand, and eggs lose their hold on our diet when we stop wanting them. With the cards played right, I see the potential for an egg free future - but that’s up to you. Will you continue to be a loser hen poop consumer, or will you lose the egg the next time you order the bacon and cheese? I’ll be watching.


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