“… things we were never meant to comprehend. The Ark of the Covenant. The Crystal Skull. Alien spacecraft . . . and aliens. Documentation of conspiracies and cover-ups. And more.” All in the Warehouse 23 Basement. (via Metafilter)

I packed my lunch this morning: a lovely vegetarian turkey sandwich on whole wheat bread with soy cheese and Nayonnaise, a bag of baby carrots, some fresh green grapes, some cherries, a nectarine, a banana and a Clif bar. I poured a cup of coffee and went down to the first floor to check my email, getting a couple of minutes’ relaxation before I started my day. I heard Jenn come down to the second floor from blow-drying her hair.

She fussed in the kitchen for a second, then I heard her say, “Oh, no! You better come here…” “Me?” I yelled, unsure whether she was talking to one of the animals. “Yes, you,” she said, and I came bounding up the stairs to see her holding a half-eaten nectarine and a partially-chewed bag of grapes. The dog was sitting at her feet, ears down, tail wagging furiously, head swiveling nervously from Jenn to me and back again. “Bad dog!” I said, and he laid down on the floor and rolled over on his back, all four feet up in the air. Jenn was trying hard to keep from smiling or laughing. I looked in my bookbag, and everything else was still there — except the sandwich.

“Did you find the sandwich?” I asked Jenn. “No,” she said, and I could tell she was struggling not to burst into hysterical laughter. I walked into the living room, looking for some bread remnants or something, but all I found was an empty plastic bag with a little smear of Nayonaise. When I walked back to Jenn, holding up the bag, the dog slunk behind her, trying not to look at me.

I’d say that this is proof that even a dog can’t tell the difference between good vegetarian food and the real thing, but this dog has no taste — he thinks cat shit tastes good, too.