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Journey | Feb 15 2003

The flakes of oatmeal at the top of my oatmeal jar are like the people waiting for a plane at the airport. They’re all very excited because they know they’re about to board the plane and go on a fabulous journey. However what they don’t know is that they will soon be dropped from this plane into a boiling sea, where they will be cooked alive, their flesh expanding and congealing into a sticky mash which will be spooned into a bowl and subsequently eaten in huge gulps by a hungry giant as he reads his newspaper.