Today's shake: Blackberries
Total Score: 3.75
General Comments: Today's shake experience caused another round of disagreement regarding the exact manner by which the "Scorn" score is calculated. During previous experiments, a shake is made and presented to me, and I ponder for a few moments its quintessential nature. What does this shake do? What is it for? In the alternate universe where this flavour of shake has never been conceived, what has been the knock-on effect upon human existence.
On this occasion, that latter question was all to easy to answer. Had the blackberry milkshake remained outside the boundaries of mortal imagination, we'd have gotten at least a few things done a damn sight fucking faster.
It took two people at least seven minutes to make my shake this lunchtime. I would question that amount of preparatory person-time if I'd ordered a particularly stuffed Spanish omelette. Every so often one of them would pull the mixing jug out of the blender, open it, shake their head in disbelief, and then add another cup of milk. By the time they were finished, they had to hand me my medium milkshake in a large cup, because no medium cup could handle milkshake of that magnitude (the man on the till helpfully explained that this is because "cold things expand with warmth", which I thought was very nice of him)!!!
So, I had much more time to consider my scorn than normal. This is what led to the argument. Scorn must be determined before taste; this much is obvious. But must it be determined before preparation, also? Can one's scorn really be time-dependent? Is a milkshake that takes too long to make worthy of more scorn? If not, where should it lose marks for what is, after all, a fairly major flaw when considering a drink I buy on my way to my favourite lunching spot (a stone bridge over the Wear that is often unbearably cold these days, but tradition is tradition)?
In the end it was concluded that I could raise scorn post-prep, in this case at least, since it seemed reasonable that watching people spend so much time creating a beverage which most closely resembled purple cement was suggestive that the final product might not have the smoothness one desires in a milkshake.
And so it proved. I was concerned the shake would a) be too tart and b) solidify inside me. The first proved entirely true; the second I'm still waiting on. Even if I don't end up with a blocked intestine, though, I dread to think what damage the seemingly endless influx of seeds have done. At this point I could probably sand-blast (seed-blast?) my stomach lining clean if I just span around fast enough. Certainly, shake me and I'd rattle.
In conclusion, then, this is not only a poor shake, but a potential health hazard, though with sufficient cunning one could theoretically use it to replace a colonic irrigation.