Salt Shakespeare.

To feed, or not to feed.
That is the question.
For whether tis nobler in the gut
To suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous famine
Or to take forks against a sea of brussels
And by opposing, eat them?
To dine, to feed, no more
And by that feast to say we end
The gut-ache and the thousand natural pangs that flesh is heir to.
Tis a consumation devoutly to be wished.
To dine, to feed, to feed perhaps on greens!
Aye, there's the rub.
For in that feast of meat what greens may come.
When we have shuffled off these too tight belts.
Must give us pause.

*bows*
Thank you, thank you all,
Jens