Food for Thought

I read about a guy the other day who gave up food for Lent. Sounds extreme I know,when most people give up digestive biscuits or sugar in their tea. So how did he do it? He replaced food with Belgian Trappist beers, and was also allowed soup and fruit juice. It got me thinking, (oh boy did it, and am I in the optimum neck of the woods to try such a thing!), as to how much eating food is an automatic act; how little thought goes into it.
What if "they" discovered it was bad for you? Trends are moving towards super-nutrient foods like 'Soylent' (yes, named after the film Soylent Green, and it's grisly subtext, and much as I hate marketing men, Don Draper aside, that was a stroke of genius), and the instant knee-jerk reaction is, "Oh No! Your teeth would go blunt, your stomach would shrink to the size of a peanut and your jaw would hang slack like an interbred hillbilly squeal-like-a-pig retard.
But bizarrely, in this culture of fearmongering no-one ever worries about the strain eating might be putting on the body. With jogging addicts, their knees eventually pack in, manual workers have back problems in their later years, but with the digestive system we can hammer it non-stop, gastric juices bubbling away, chewing, swallowing, squeezing it out through the colon like an organic scatalogical toothpaste tube, and not expect a jot of wear and tear.
Seems to me the odd day of liquid diet could be a good thing (and before you start I don't mean down The Turk's Head Tavern). All proteins, nutrients and vitamins easily absorbed into the organism, nothing solid to break down.
Wind, indigestion, constipation, heartburn, nausea, lethargy - all symptoms of solid fuel. With liquid fuel you might float along, super efficient with boundless energy. I don't know, I'm just putting it out there.
And no-one says you have to give up the pleasure of eating, maybe a combination of the two. Maybe eating's got a bit high-fallutin full of itself. Imagine going to a petrol station where a series of overdressed preening flunkeys poured small amounts of diesel into your car at protracted intervals, from silver jugs, whilst cheesy music played under soft lighting, and the whole thing took three hours and cost three times as much.
Plus we're all guilty of eating only because we have to, absently cramming a piece of toast in while simultaneously stuffing clothes into a hold-all with one eye on the breakfast news.
Just some food for thought.