What Really Sandpapers My B@!1$

Contrary to what most of you likely believe, I can actually read and shit. No kidding. I won’t blow your mind by insisting that I typed this myself, and my lips didn’t even move. That would be digressing.

Do you know what really sandpapers my b@!1$? The endless series of news pieces that breathlessly announce precisely what sort of horrid crap we eat.

(Note: Howard – the ‘Manager’ – insisted on me spelling ‘balls’ that way. I asked him if he didn’t have a government somewhere to shut down.)

Back to my rant – WE ARE EATING CRAP. You know what’s really, really sad? Most of us can look at a food label and understand that we eat crap on a deep level. Not all of us are Walter White, and know precisely how Polysorbate-60 works chemically, or how to manufacture xanthan gum. You’ll likely recall my screed on Twinkies, and my utter wonderment at why anyone who can attempt to phonetically pronounce all 37 Twinkie ingredients from their soup coolers would keep ramming those spongy death pills into themselves orally between attempts.

But it can’t just stop there. No, I have to then be regaled by the latest, white-hot news flash of the decade: bacon leads to low sperm count. Now, I don’t know about you, but at 44 I’m done in the baby department. I’m all for grandkids, and I’m all for keeping up my practice and skills, but actual protohuman rearing and ripening is simply not on my list of interests. Delightfully, cramming bacon down my gullet by the handful is. So what you have here, people, is something analogous to a Reese’s: two great things that go together. I eat bacon, my sperm count plummets. I have no more kids, ergo I still retain funds for more bacon. Mazelfuckingtov (missed that one, Howard).

All my glee at this beautiful symmetry aside, I can’t help but wonder why anyone would waste print, paper or electrons on the subject. Does the author or website truly believe people will stop eating bacon? I rest my case. For evidence, I submit to you the jury: Bacon.

While the bacon-sperm count connection works to my favor, I picked up two more irritating pieces of ‘news.’ First, the revelation that chicken nuggets are not entirely chicken. As my Mama Rants would say, “Well, I’ll be dipped in shit and rolled in cracker crumbs.” Which, ironically, is exactly how chicken nuggets are made. In case you don’t know, Big Food has researched the precise list of chemicals that make us want to eat. Guess what nuggets are bound together conveniently with? Yep. That’s why kids, even when they watch a whole live chicken get La Machine-d and rendered into nuggets, still want nuggets.

Keep feeding your mini-me’s nuggets. You’ll get Honey Boo Boo in no time. If you dislike keeping tabs on active kids, this strategy will work in your favor because soon they’ll be unable to move under their own weight. Even better, you can graduate them to a new level of food addiction after the Nugget Phase: The Oreo Phase.

Yes, apparently Oreos – those delightful little racial equality analogies-made-real – are about as addictive as crack. I know, I know. This is NOT news to most of us. Point here is this: science just fuc… proved this theory we all hold. As a teenager, I once was forced to stop eating Oreos because of the bottom of the bag. Truth. I crapped black and white for two days, which was awesome, but still I think you take my point.

What’s my ranty point here? Simple. It is this: the food manufacturers in this country are addicting you and your kids to sugar, hypersugar, and a toxic blend of chemicals that appeals to the tongue and food-brain, but do nothing for your system. Every chicken nugget you watch fall down your offspring’s maw is making your kid’s problem later in life worse. I know, a jump in logic, but really it is true I believe.

In the meantime, I’ll sit here eating my carrots and apples, content in my near-60 pounds of weight loss simply by not eating this sort of crap. Word.