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But, ultimately, it's just a piece of bread and a sip of wine. So I don't think it counts a real cannibalism.
It's actually surprising, considering how widespread cannibalism has been, in so many different societies, that it doesn't show up more in literature. I guess authors just found it distasteful (no pun intended).
William Albert Robinson, Deep water and shoal, would go with the pun, having inadverently eaten human flesh on Malakula in Vanuatu (then the New Hebrides) in 1930:
> What did it taste like? you ask. Like veal, as one of our well-known African explorers
> has stated? Or even like pork, which another has had the temerity to claim?
> If you'd like me to be absolutely truthful - which I know you don't, for it is awfully
> prosaic - I'd have to answer that the darn meat was so burnt and covered in ashes
> that it could have been almost anything. So if you must know what it tastes like to
> be a cannibal you will have to go there yourself.
In the Introduction to the Cremaster Cycle, Wakefield calls Barney's 5-film cycle "autophagous," self-eating, since it creates a new biosexual mythos and then continually references itself.
Which leads to one of my favorite punch lines: "Peter, EAT MY ASS!"
Her notorious FHM photoshoot. How fitting that a discussion thread focusing on cannibalism would end up on pin-up shots of Rachel Ray
Somewhere the ghost of Ben Hecht is smiling.
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