shart 19

I eat dirt every day. I love eating dirt. I'm obviously what you think of as a dirt eater, but I also love KFC. And lettuce. And kale. And eggs. My boyfriend, Jim, is a certified dietitian, so he thinks I'm a pathological dirt eater. There's something inherently appealing about eating dirt. It makes you feel alive. There's something satisfying about wanting to munch on dirt. It has a richness that only dirt can bring. In part, it is about being dirty. Dirt is cheap and good. Dirt, especially in its raw form, is a metaphor for health and wealth. For some, dirt itself might represent power and success. I think a great dirt eaters' mantra might be, "I am a dirt eater. I have a power over it; I have a lot of power over it." It's like chocolate cheese ice cream to me. On ice. But when I put it in my mouth and get down with it, I just love it. I have love for all the flavors. I don't like most of the flavors that are created right now. I don't like the heavy ones. I don't like the bitter ones. But when it comes to those ones I still have love for them.

If I feel like having a snack, I'll chew grass. If I'm hungry, I'll eat it out of my fist. The trick is, my fist is not made out of glass, it's made out of oak. I'm just pretty sure that oaks are edible. You can add some vitamin C for good measure. The dirt eater comes in many varieties. From the corniest rednecks in the corn fields of South Dakota to the political end of the Republican Party, they're all different. Just as there are dirt eaters among the working class, the soil eaters are there among those who would like to live in a state where the laws and history say that you have to eat some dirt.