Saturday, May 07, 2005

Cuckoo for Empty Calories

There has been convincing research conducted lately by scientists with the British Medical Journal that seems to indicate that being fat in your 40’s might raise your risk of developing dementia in life.


Put down your drumsticks people – these world scientists are flip-flopping their stories quicker than John Kerry at a Murder Mystery dinner. They just announced that modestly overweight people were found to have a lower risk of death than those of normal weight, didn’t they? So, even though we may be the healthiest bastards on the planet, we’re also going to be about as nutty as a bag of walnuts.

Just fucking perfect – and just when you thought it was safe to go back to Ben & Jerry’s!

After four decades of having all walks of popular media hammer home the notion that flab is not either fabulous or fashionable into the deepest recesses of my brain, not to mention that my excess bodily bulk continuously has me percotiously perched at the very brink of a total health meltdown at any moment unless I should start taking 5:30AM jogs and spend millions of dollars on vitamin suppliments, dietary aids, special low-carb meals, and protein shakes, that I’m going straight to Hell in a KFC bucket, my personal sanity is the least of my worries!

Dementia? Pfft!

In a study that followed more than 10,000 Californians for almost 30 years researchers found that the fatter people were at a greater risk of developing Alzheimers disease or other forms of dementia.

That makes sense – what other kind of person would Jazzercize in a leopard print leotard or forgo yummy breakfast donuts for Richard Simmons ‘Sweatin’ to the Oldies’ videos? Sane people just don’t participate in these kinds of activities willingly.

Maybe it’s a lifetime of intense subliminal brainwashing us by big business market trends to be rake-thin and uber-health conscious that’s causing us to go all cuckoo for Coco-Puffs?


Besides, fuck it, if a little dementia due to a little extra baggage around the middle is the worst that I have to worry about in life, then I’ll truly be living on Easy Street at last!

I’d say that as long as I can still maintain an erection, haven’t ben reduced to a pile of ash in some preemptive strike, or haven’t grown a second head out of my neck thanks to prolonged exposure to toxic waste, radiation or intense ultra-violet rays, then I couldn’t give two shits if my brain finally goes to Crazytown for the rest of my days and forgets to bring the sunblock altogether!.



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