Skip to comments.Lunch lady slammed for food that is 'too good'
Posted on 10/07/2012 10:56:42 AM PDT by Daffynition
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This is satire, right?
One of my fave pictures.
Hmmm. I would have guessed that the cafeteria workers in Sweden were all unionized and they would have put a stop to Eriksson making the rest of them look bad long before it got to this point.
Socialism in action - an equal sharing of misery.
When I was in elementary school it was in a small steel mill town in Pennsylvania. Most of the folks who lived there were descendants of immigrants from the late 1900s and early 20th centuries. As such the town was loosely divided accordingly. You had your German section, Italian, Jewish, Greek etc..No one seemed to mind and there weren’t
The best part was school lunch. One day German, the next Greek, then Polish and so on. All cooked by these little old gray haired grandmothers of the kids in school.
When the bell rang for lunch you had to be fast on you feet or you might not make it to the cafeteria. Those lunches are perhaps my best school memory of the time.
My son goes to a very nice private college and if you are in a hurry you can grab something prepackaged. The label is stamped fit for human consumption.
There is the story of the salt grinder:
Far away, long ago, the sea was a giant lake full of clear, fresh water. Two brothers lived by the sea on a cliff, each in his own home, one on top of the hill and the other below. Each brother began life with the same inheritance. One brother grew wealthy while the other grew poor. In those faraway times, salt was the measure of wealth. Salt was rare because it was transported from distant lands. Salt was necessary to preserve food because refrigerators hadn’t been invented. Salt made food tasty. The richer someone was, the more salt he used.
Each morning, the poor brother walked along the beach searching. One day, his toe scraped a hard edge in a big sand-hill. He dug away the sand and uncovered a large salt grinder. A tiny rock of salt remained in the chamber. He raced home and plonked the mill onto the kitchen table and began to turn the grinding wheel. The wheel refused to budge.
“Broken!” he grunted. He leaned on the handle to twist the wheel. “Come on, grind!” The grinding wheel turned on its own. Salt poured from the mill and streamed onto the table. His hands scooped up the precious salt, salt he could trade at market. The poor man laughed at thoughts of a full cupboard and a crackling fireplace. He scooped the salt into a bag. “Salt enough for everything I need. “ He tried to halt the turning salt grinder, but the wheel kept turning and the salt pile grew larger and larger. He shook the grinder. “Oh, please stop.” The wheel stopped.
So it was. Each market day, the grateful man held the salt grinder over a basket. “Come on, grind.” Salt gushed filling the basket until the man repeated, “Oh, please stop.”
Each week, the rich brother opened his shutters and saw changes at his poor brother’s house. First a goat appeared, next a cow, finally a pig grazed in the yard next door. Curiosity pulled the rich brother downhill.
The rich brother asked. “I’m pleased as punch that you’re doing well! What’s your secret?”
The humble brother removed the mysterious salt mill from the shelf.
“Watch this! When I say “Come on, grind!” the mill pours salt. And to stop you must say “Oh, please stop!””
The rich brother begged “May I please borrow it for one night?”
“Of course you can!” came the reply.
In two shakes of a lamb’s tail, the rich man was out the door grasping the salt grinder. He scurried uphill and plunked the salt grinder on his table. “Come on, grind!” He shouted as he dragged a bucket under the salt grinder. He raced through house and barn gathering buckets, bushels, baskets and cans. Brimming containers soon filled the rich man’s market wagon.
The hall clock chimed twelve. The wagon was full. “I’ll get gold for that lot tomorrow.” He smiled. “Brilliant! Now stop.” But the salt kept flowing. “Good enough! Stop!” But the grinder kept turning. “Stop!” he yelled.
Salt poured onto the table and spilled onto the floor. The man rushed for a container, but his greed had left nothing in reserve. Salt continued to flow. Salt streamed into the parlour and covered the couch, the piano, and the pictures on the wall. Salt flooded every room. The foundations strained to hold the house and finally broke.
The house rolled downhill into the ocean and salt still gushed from the mill. Salt burst the front door and poured into the sea. White clouds of salt billowed underwater. The sea passed it from one wave to the next. When the salt reached the rivers, the rivers pushed back. The marsh grasses of the deltas fenced in the salt, protecting the fruit and flowers blossoming inland. Fish couldn’t swim upriver and died or changed unrecognizably. Nests were burned by the harsh crystals.
Even today, the rivers push the salt water back to sea in the marshland and river deltas, protecting the upper river and the inland lakes from the salt and keeping them clean, clear and fit for life.
Which just proves that if you keep taking from someone who has nothing you will end up with nothing yourself.
This is in Sweden... coming here soon.
God bless her!
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