The Appliance of Liberation

The can opener is a majestic device. The can opener is pure blade, leverage and muscle. Every turn of the crank reeks of Truth and Power.

I love the feeling of dominance over the alloy. I relish the ability to rip open a metal cylinder with no strength at all

Nothing matches the exhilaration of cutting through a can's steel cell walls and freeing nature's captive bounty within.
"Be free, Green Beans! Seize the Day, Fruit Cocktail!!!"

I sometimes imagine myself as that sharpened little disk. Slowly cutting through the smooth tin…like a sailboat through a glassy lake.

The can opener makes the can surrender to you.
"Take my blade, you frigid metallic bitch! Give up your gooey, cherry-pie filling! Spread your sealed tin lips for me."

And that last quarter inch is exquisite. When the can finally gives in and lifts it's lid up --almost completely severed -- and offers its contents in defeat.
The beaten can lifts it's lid in submission and asks mercy,
"Here are my secret innards. Take them and spare my lid. Please, leave my lid intact. You have beaten me, oh you of flesh. Take my heart and let me be."

It makes me queasy with rage when I think of all the fruits and vegetables suspended in those tiny metal cells. I sit awake at night thinking of corn kernels and pear halves...
of skinned tomatoes and water chestnuts...
of mandarin oranges and cranberry sauce...
of countless foodstuffs robbed of the natural cycle that is their birthright!

Beware you who support the Can's oppressive means. We will stand for it NO MORE!

Can Banner!

want more ranting? try The Cassarole Revolution or Quest for Fire

Prehensile Tales prefers it fresh.

This week's tale is dedicated to Adam and Summer: hug someone you love

Copyright © 1998 Prehensile Tales.

d e s i g n by h a l c y o n