What Is Pudding?

I believe it’s a combination of sugar and some sort of starch, to create a sweet dessert that goes down easy. It is neither hot nor cold - but often room temperature, so you have little impetus to eat it slowly. The very word pudding has a humorous tone to it. This can be demonstrated with a simple thought experiment: imagine someone you know, perhaps someone of dignified stature. Now, imagine them pounding on your door, all in a huff! You open the door…there’s the person, decidely important and urgent in comportment, tone and manner. What is it they seek? Why, pudding, of course.

This thought experiment should bring chuckles to the most stalwart of philosophers. Note: the example would lack humor were “pudding” substituted with “ice cream.” And incidentally, have you known anyone (or known OF anyone) to call it “iced-cream” instead of “ice cream?” How gay is that?

And by they way…WHERE THE FUCK DID MY iloveopinions.com go?

What a quaint post…

I have never been called quaint. I sort of like the way it makes my BALLS feel!

Anyway, I have a hard time eating pudding, there’s something obscene about consuming a FOOD that requires no CHEWING. The pudding is in a pre-digestive state, and all you’re doing is mixing your saliva with it. You’re not really eating pudding, you’re eating saliva-pudding. And if it gets on the corners of your mouth you look downright vulgar, don’t you. Not to mention the sound of the word “pudding.” It’s a noun with ‘ing’ at the end. Fak, friend, it’s a VERB innit! How exactly does one PUD, I ask you. I am nothing if not disciplined, so I will tie in philosophy. Thales thought the world was ultimately derived from water. From there it is no large step to maintaining the world is ultimately derived from pudding. What a slothful food, it’s like “hey Mildred, why not just mix up a bunch of sugar with a bunch of slop and shovel it in, glub, glub, blub. I fancy we should call it ‘pudding,’ you?”

as bill cosby would tell you, pudding is little more than gelatinized milk products…

but no… the predigestive state is the ultimate state of pudding…

after digestion pudding becomes something else…

-Imp

I love pudding, but I’ve been dominating yogurt lately. What’s up with yogurt?

I hate it when people put an “r” into wash. Like they’re going to warsh thier clothes. Now that’s some seriously gay shit.

…and who the hell says hell[s] no? Sure, it’s correct, I guess, but it’s also gay.

I’m not arguing that the word “compote,” as in a fruit reduction, is commonly pronounced wrong; nonetheless I feel that anyone who hazards to use the word “compote” for any reason should be hit with a spline shank rotary hammer and fed to Gambian rats.

And what of those who insist on pronouncing licorice like some weird blond-haired kid in a homemade dress that moved in from down state? One who pronounces it “lickerish” is normal and deserves fair praise; whereas the pronunciation as “licoriss” should be answered by Uzbekistanian ass-torture.

I rather like hells no, as it clearly satirizes “hells yeah” by taking it to its logical and disastrous conclusion.

Yes, Impenitent, my friend, after digestion, pudding does become something else…

Transcendental Pudding.

Mmm, embrace the wafting aroma.

Now, Gamer, why would you subject the poor Gambian rats to such undesirable tastes? What have these poor rodents done to deserve such harsh treatment? Compared to this questionable menu, Uzbekistanian ass-torture would be a welcome relief, I imagine. Let them have pudding.

I am reminded why, as a horny pimple-faced preteen, (as opposed to a horny non-pimple-faced pre-middle-ager), I was so enamored with D&D and its philosophies. Much like a fat rube and her chocolate snack-pack pudding, I couldn’t resist slurping down this piece (see below) of earnest description from memory lane and posting it in its entirety for your philosophical contemplation. Particularly enjoy sentences that start with the unlikely trope: “Like most oozes,” and of course the earnest and voluminously simple header: “Elder Puddings,” makes my anemic attempt at absurd humor look like a deficient halfling.

[i]In the Dungeons & Dragons fantasy role-playing game, the black pudding is a fictional creature of the ooze family. It resembles a bubbling, heaped pile of thick, black, pudding-like goo, roughly fifteen feet across and two feet thick.

Like most Oozes, the black pudding is a mindless, underground-dwelling scavenger which drags itself around caves and sewers and absorbs and digests whatever it finds. It attacks by grabbing, grappling and constricting prey, and then inserting it directly into its liquid mass. It also secretes a deadly acidic substance which quickly dissolves weapons, clothing and organic tissue alike.
When struck by a slashing or piercing weapon, instead of taking damage, the black pudding splits into two smaller puddings. These also split into smaller black puddings when struck, and this continues until they are too small and weak to do so further.
Like most oozes, puddings are mindless and thus neutral in alignment.

Elder black puddings

Black puddings get bigger as they eat and age. The oldest black puddings can become hundreds of feet in diameter, and have several times the attack strength and hit points of a regular black pudding, with greater spitting and acid secretion abilities.
[edit]Other puddings

Other types of deadly pudding creatures in Dungeons and Dragons include the white, dun, and brown puddings. The only significant variation between black puddings and these other types is the terrain they usually inhabit: black puddings live underground, white puddings live on Arctic plains, dun puddings live in arid deserts, and brown puddings live in marshes.[/i]

So there you have it. We must eat the pudding, lest the pudding eat us. Is this not what philosophy is all about? Read it again, for a buffet of philosofique metaphor. I submit to you that philosophy is Elder Black Pudding, and philosophers are fighting it.

Ok guys I think this has gone about far enough.

Mr. Smears, my gratitude. We welcome brief folly in these hallowed halls - as long as it’s brief. Your reminder is well played. Your pen name tells me you are a man of jocular leanings, so there’s no need to qualify your position - your aim is clear and respected. I have taken arcane dalliance too far, too often, and I need to take a hard look at myself and vow to change. I will meditate this weekend – thanks. I wonder if you’d forgive my persistence just a bit longer; thinking maybe, perhaps, if I pose the topic differently, you will discover that the topic may warrant further discussion after all. So, in consideration of your wise critique, I submit a new and altogether more pointed query: Who is pudding?

What is jocular? The only sport I play is pinball.

And “Who is pudding?” can be answered simply. The little guy who dresses up the models on America’s Next Top Model is pudding. Oh, and Dick Cheney.

“Who keeps puddin dur wet tawels on da flur!?”

I contend that Zoot took it with him.

Poor soul, he just couldn’t be without it on his trip and, well, you know him. Fuck us.

huh? zoot took it where? tell me everything you know, water closet.

Gamer,

There is no connection between pudding and philosophy whatsoever. Pudding is religion. Nice and smooth going down and you don’t have to think about it.

Philosophy is oatmeal. Thisck and sticky and just when you are swallowing that thick paste… AACK! There’s a lump in here! Philosophy is the lumps in the oatmeal…

The metaphor was that Black Pudding - the D&D blob monster, is sort of like philosophy.

When struck by a slashing or piercing weapon, instead of taking damage, the black pudding splits into two smaller puddings. These also split into smaller black puddings when struck, and this continues until they are too small and weak to do so further.

Aha, Wittgenstein.

Actual pudding you eat (gack) is not philosophy, I agree. It’s American Idol. The lumps in the oatmeal - a nice metaphor.

And by the way…

hi JT.

Ah yes, black pudding… Still, all blobs of goo are pretty much the same aren’t they? We have yet to find THE pudding, and so we make smaller and smaller blobs until meaning becomes meaningless.

Strike out! Slash! Divide and conquer! Stand alone and declare ME! And through the tiniest of peepholes, it’s possible. But the pudding and all their lumps lie waiting…

Hi Gamer, Where the hell is Marge? We miss her now and then.

the wombats have decreed that gelatanious cubes rule…

-Imp