Crackpot Theory #Bob

OK, so I have this theory.  I’m not saying it’s right or anything, but it’s mine.  I stand by it. (In case you’re irony impaired, this is all meant in jest.  Don’t go all sensitive new-age Bob on me or anything.  Leave your political correctness at home.)

I think in the way-old Neanderthal days (give or take some period I never paid attention to), every tribe found their absolute most ass-backward moronic idiot and gave him the exalted position of official food taster.  In fact, it was so exalted that Bob (they were all named Bob, either before or after being exalted) was higher than the leader of the tribe.  His position was *that* important.

Yes, Bob was the official food taster of the tribe.  Obviously you see where this is going.  Tribe finds new food (or rotting carcass, depending on its abilities), takes it to Bob, who because he’s dumber than a box of hammers doesn’t have the instinct to pull away in disgust, would consume said food product.  If he lived, wonderful!  The tribe eats.  If he died…. Well, time for a new Bob.

It’s my warped world view, and I’m sticking with it.

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