I Am Indiana Jones

I love Indiana Jones.

I don’t think there is a man in the world who would not love to become either Indiana Jones or Han Solo in their next life (well, maybe James Bond as well).  Now granted, our intrepid adventurer is brought to life so well by Harrison Ford’s impeccable performances, George Lucas’s and Steven Spielberg’s amazing storytelling, and some wonderful work by the folks at Industrial Light & Magic, but Indy is really an institution unto himself.  He is, in short, an everyman…in that every man would love to be Indy!

From what I can tell, the most universally panned Indiana Jones installment was Temple of Doom.  While I will agree that it lacked the “vibe” of the other three installments (not to mention some pretty obvious “transition” work by the folks at ILM), it was a welcome departure from the usual Indy template.  Aside from the removal of a live beating heart (and this was PG-13?), one of my favorite scenes was the “welcome” dinner at the Pankot Palace.

Slithering Snake Surprise, Eyeball Soup, and of course delicious Chilled Monkey Brains for dessert.  Needless to say, these are not common delicacies to the western palette, but are enjoyed in many other cultures and societies for less than obvious reasons.  All of these dishes contain perhaps the most nutrient dense (carnivore) selections available, perhaps outside of the liver, which would have likely been one the first organs consumed by our caveman ancestors…engorged with blood and “easy” calories after all.

I absolutely love to watch this particular movie scene with people for the first time.  While those instances are now fewer and farther between (it was 26 years ago after all), the reactions are always the same.  “I would never eat that!!”

I have news for you: yes you would, if you were hungry enough.  And in fact, if you spent 2-3 months of your life “on the ground” with these cultures, you would come to love all of the beetles, brains, and tongue that are part of their every day diet.  In short, your body would adjust as well as your tastebuds.  I know many of you will argue with me on this point, but until you actually spend 2-3 months in an Indian (Moroccan, Egyptian, Indonesian) village with NO POSSIBLE EXIT you really have no basis to challenge my assertion!  But I think human physiology is on my side (not to mention the necessity to not be banished by a foreign culture) when I say that if you were hungry enough, you would eat the stuff.

Now let’s be fair as we chug along this train of thought.  My personal diet was less than “healthy” in my prior bachelor life (ahhh, condo living at it’s best!).  Does anyone remember when you received a sturdy 32 oz plastic cup with every McDonald’s SuperSize meal?  I most vividly remember the lovely collection I gathered during the 1992 Barcelona Olympics Dream Team run (Bird, Magic, and Jordan on the same team…are you kidding me!).  Ummm, yeah….I had over 70 of these cups, and along with some cheap plates and cutlery obtained at a chain store (rhymes with “Marg-ret”), this was the extent of my serving faire.  It was easy to do dishes in those days.  I would stack the cups up next to the sink, and when there were no more cups in the cupboard, it was time to do dishes.  I had a broken dishwasher so cleaning plates was out of the question…but hey, that’s what the dogs are for, right?

This all changed shortly after I met the future Mrs. GF Dad.  She had this uncontrollable propensity to…to…CLEAN!  And not just to clean my sacred collection of chemically manufactured form-pressed “glasses,” but to actually THROW THEM AWAY!  Suddenly I would leave on a business trip only to return to a clean condo, spotless kitchen, and…and…GLASS glasses in my cupboard!  What a strange little twist upon this path of life!  I must admit, it was enticing to say the least, but an adjustment nonetheless.

And it is this adjustment of which I speak.  It seems remarkably humorous to me that us males seem to have no problem adjusting to many of the finer “refinements” that our better halves seem compelled to introduce into our lives over the long and arduous course known as courtship and matrimony, yet so many of you (us) seem compelled to fight DIETARY changes kicking and screaming.  I should point out that this is the exact same behavior that we expect our young children to outgrow in due time, that is of course until they become “grown” children and learn the fine and subtle art of passive-aggressiveness.

How many times have you (did you) hear yourself telling your kids that “It’s just {this} or just {that}…get over it!”  How many sleepless nights were lost in utter frustration pondering why your offspring couldn’t seem to “get it,” to bask in the glory of your accumulated wisdom and simply understand that perhaps you were just the slightest bit more enlightened than they?

And when you hear your gluten-free spouse (wife) convey this exact same sentiment under their (her) breath in a fit of exasperation (“It’s just {bread} or it’s just {fried chicken}”), you sound to them (her) as one of your children, and they (she) view you the same way.  They (she) won’t come right out and say this, but this is how it “sounds” and “feels” to them (her).

So I say, embrace the monkey brains.  Shovel me up some ox liver topped with bat guano.  Give me a heaping cup of chilled flamingo foot soup.  Gluten-free…are you kidding me?  Do you think Indy would turn his nose up at this?

Yours truly,

GF Dad