Why is it, that while I understand perfectly how bad fried food is, I will ALWAYS find a reason to get at that lukewarm batch of fried chicken from the gas station? After devouring the coma inducing “snack” I sit back and wonder why the hell I would do this to myself. I should know better.
It turns out that I do know better, it’s just that the primitive parts of my mind are much, much stronger than the reasoning parts of my mind. We might think of reason as the errand boy for our urges. With enough pressure from