This entry is part 4 of 10 in the series Cooking With Oats

Posted by Mike aka Mightily Oats

Time is a great teacher, but unfortunately it kills all its pupils. ~Louis Hector Berlioz

The sun rises in the east, first kissing the soaring mountain peaks and slowly dripping into the glacier-ridden valleys. A frigid spring wind comes rushing from the north, insidiously disregarding my many layers of long underwear to fondle my dangly bits with its icy fingers. The frosty cloud of my exhalation mixes with that of my stalwart war-yak, shifting restively beneath me while he chews his cud. The sonorous tolling of a gong echoes through the valley, announcing the birth of another day.

This is monk country; where bald little men gather in their high-mountain factories to churn out philosophies, idioms and clever sayings that eventually end up in oddly shaped cardboard boxes that are called cookies by terminally optimistic restaurateurs. This is where the greater part of the R&D takes place for True Enlightenment. This is also the place where people come to learn how to break bricks with their face, pile drive a school bus and punch a castle to death.

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