hel·low (ˈhelō/) exclamation. A salutation embodying the vibrant energy found in the color yellow.

31 August 2012

Sporks & Foons

The trinity of utensils has long existed within the confines of kitchen drawers. Forks, knives, and spoons have been grouped together for many years. A staple of civilized society, these tools, these instruments of eatery, have defined us in more ways than we would first imagine.
Primarily, it has fed into a subtle form of stereotyping and prejudice. We have always viewed forks as keen poking tools. They stab chunks of meat or vegetables and properly relocate them to our stomachs via the portal that is our mouth. Knives are used to segment larger pieces of food into smaller and more manageable sizes. In coordination with its coworker--the previously discussed fork--the knife micromanages the division of otherwise in-consumable goods. Lastly, the spoon is employed to scoop more liquified foods. Essentially, it is a micro-bowl sized to appropriately contain and transfer eatable portions of soft food. These are the stereotypes of the utensil world. Be it what it may, it is a prejudice; a predetermined notion of what is right and proper for a specified utensil. Like most of society, this parallels the stereotypes of sexual norms. Males are supposed to be stronger and more authoritative, stereotypically, while females are supposed be dainty and detail-orientated. While men 'bring home the bacon,' women stay in the kitchen to cook the bacon. These so-called 'gender roles' are correlated to the natural sex of a person, not their internal tendencies. Men hunt, forks stab. Women cook, spoons scoop. But what happens when the internal gender of a person (or purpose of a utensil) deviate from the stereotypical nature of its sex (or construction)? This is where the spork comes into play.
The spork is a mutated contraption spawning the spoon and the fork. Yet it is neither. It cannot be included in the trinity of everyday eating utensils. It is an awkward in-between. Like a spoon, it has an inward dip, allowing the operator (i.e. the eater) to scoop soft foods into his/her mouth. However, having the stubby prongs on the end, in mimicry of a fork, the spork is incapable of moving more liquid foods, like soup. Considering the prongs are not as developed as a fork, the spork is not able to properly stab into denser foods, like meaty steak. Naturally, the spork cannot do the job of either a spoon or a fork very well. That being said, it is best suited for the consumption of mashed potatoes. In fact, it is perfect at that job. You see, the spork is akin to a lesbian. It is physically more inclined toward its spoon (female) construction, but its natural tendency is that of a fork. It's a spoon dreaming of being a fork. Therefore, it is not naturally suited to either role and must therefore adapt to its skill as a utensil so it can give back to the greater kitchen drawer community.
Likewise, the foon is also a mutated contraption of a fork and spoon. However, it favors an initial construction of a fork more than a spoon. It has long prongs but they are bent into the shape of a spoon. In this sense, the stabbing nature of a fork cannot be employed effectively considering the angle of pressure applied is insufficient to truly make it a useful tool for said task. Like a homosexual man, the fork was born to stab (hunt) but has betrayed that natural physicality to pursue its internal desires--the role of scooping, like a spoon. Therefore, the stereotypical gender role given to a fork cannot be applied to a foon.
Sporks and foons are as different as spoons and forks. None of them are knives and it is our job to acknowledge that. One's natural construction does not always correlate to his or her inner tendencies. We must be cognizant.

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