When I tried (and failed) to become full on vegan, honey was one of the last things I realized was on the list of their commandments. Upon my excommunication, I came to learn it was ‘cause they do work to make it (the bees – not the vegans). So, as a card carrier of the dietary elite, you’re not allowed to eat honey: not with tea, not in your bread, and not with green eggs and ham (which – don’t be fooled – just because they’re green doesn’t put pig or chicken abortion on the list. Bummer, right?)

Alright. So, I can’t put it in my body. But can I put put it on me?

lippy

No, really… Did you know you can use honey to heal?

Because I definitely didn’t. First, there’s the whole anti-allergy thing. Much like taking a vaccine (or that dude who slowly injected himself with snake venom for years until he got immune. And, like, self induced Parkinsons pretty much), the idea is that the bees unintentionally drop off just enough of the allergy causing stuff into honey to slowly immunize your system. So, if I decide to remain lapsed from veganism – my sneezing jags can naturally become history.

And speaking of history, when the ancient Sumerians got a boo boo (after a long hard day of leaving misleading clues just to fuck with the star of a pseudo-history series about aliens thousands of years later), they’d put honey on their wounds. Not only does the shiz seal up abrasions, but it also sucks out the moisture so scabs can form before bacterial pus pool parties do.

(“Hey! That sounds kinda like what happens when I pour Hydrogen Peroxide on my wound!”)

correct

Funny you should mention… that’s exactly what’s in the sticky sweet goo. The bees first nom on some pollen. (Okay, that sounds harmless enough). Then, they use an enzyme in their tummies to break it into two sugars. After that, they vomit the mixture into their hive. (But wait, there’s more!) Then they spit on their fresh pollen vomit like some winged, striped Sigourney Weaver alien. An enzyme in their spit helps spur the wizardry that follows (alongside some furious wing flapping). After a few scientific reactions and some evaporative propeller windmilling, the stuff’s broken down into gluconic acid and… (dun-nuhnuh-NUH!)…hydrogen peroxide!

Yikes. I’m having one of those “I don’t wanna see the cow, I just want the burger” moments I’ve heard about. Aside from it seeming slightly icky now, I also feel kinda like a dick. I mean – imagine your paycheck was super shitty this go round. You got your gas, paid a few bills, and finally hit Whole Foods. As you emerge with a fully stocked cart, you’re telling yourself “this all has to last me until next month.”

Then, outta nowhere, fucking O’Doyle from Billy Madison comes over in a giant mask, sprays chloroform smoke into your face, and steals your food trolley. Then he does it again next month. And the next.

A. That’s like a step above getting “Taken” style trafficked and forced to whore and mainline smack in handcuffs.

B. That analogy might be slightly hyperbolic.

C. I must be soulless. ’cause all this talk of honey consumption being sorta douchey is only making me remember how amazing those straw-tubey things from when I was a kid tasted.

honeystrawflavors
(The only good thing about those antique shops mom dragged us to in Deliverance country that sold wind chimes made out tourists’ rib cages)

That’s all. Class dismissed. Eat honey if you like.

Unless you’ve just been born. Then you should wait at least a year.