My Bag

I like peanuts pretty well. I've been eating a lot of them lately, under the assumption that they are tolerably good for me. At least they are not worse than the likes of chips and anything fried. I started off with unsalted peanuts, but I couldn't take that after the first bag of them. I've gone through a lot of bags of salted peanuts in the shell, and putting more thought into them than anyone has heretofore. Probably I've thought about it more than anyone ever will.

There is much inefficiency in peanuts. Each bag has a fair number of shells that do not contain anything. One can, of course, eat the shell. I don't do that. Thankfully, I eat slowly enough to cast aside the empty ones. When you get into a good rhythm, you can actually eat pretty quickly and toss the shells in a good, fluid motion. It's all about repetition. The shells that had peanuts and the one's that didn't amount to the same thing.

The peanut-less shells are balanced out by a handful of shell-less peanuts. These are about the best in the bunch, because they have been bombarded by the salt directly, instead of having it pass through the filter of the shell. I eager seek out these ones, and wish you could get a whole bag of them. Even shelled peanuts are not as good as them, which is really saying something. Shelled peanuts are unnatural anyway.

I have a certain affection even for the weird, defective peanuts. I don't know why that is. Maybe they just break up the monotony of otherwise consistent flavor and texture. It's important not to get into a peanut rut, sure enough. Maybe I lose those weird peanuts because I identify with them. I'm an odd peanut myself, really. Someone has to show some love for the ones that are not conventional, but which are pretty good in their own way if given a shot. It takes all sorts to make a bag of peanuts.