We do like fact checking. It helps us get the facts straight, you see. That's a good thing. We like facts, but only when they are true facts, and not false facts. False facts are bad. Get it? Which brings us again to mikael moore and his spongy but persistent tumescence for all things non-American, the most recent exemplar of which is socialized medicine. We've already glanced at Cuba's gulag-like clinics, and we peeked at the NHS of Great Britain. Let us now consider health care in Canada.
In Sicko, moore uses a brief clip of an appearance by one Sally Pipes on "The O'Reilly Factor" as an example of the ignorance of an ignorant American, who is ignorant. Alas, Pipes is not American. Poor Pipes. Everybody should get to be American. Damn these borders! Damn them to Hell!!! But I digress. In fact, I'm wrong. Pipes is now American, formerly Canadian. This might perhaps undermine moore's point -- or at least his evidence.
What then is the opinion of this knowledgeable Canadian (whose ignorance appertains only to her Americist tendencies)? "There's a good reason why my former countrymen with the money to do so either use the services of a booming industry of illegal private clinics, or come to America to take advantage of the health care that Moore [sic] denounces."
"Government-run health care in Canada inevitably resolves into a dehumanizing system of triage, where the weak and the elderly are hastened to their fates by actuarial calculation." Both her mother and her uncle died as a result of this sort of 'dehumanizing triage.' It's so bad, says Pipes, that she "can honestly say that Moore's [sic] preferred health care system is something I wouldn't wish on him."
According to Pipes, The Toronto Star -- left-wing even by Canadian standards -- characterizes moore's film as "overwrought and factually challenged." They should know. When a Star reporter challenged moore's positions at Cannes, he petulantly exclaimed, "You Canadians! You used to be so funny! You gave us all our best comedians. When did you turn so dark?" Who could counter that most trenchant riposte? But just who is this "us" and "our" he talks about? Socialists? Propagandists? Islamists? Do any of these have comedians? A mystery for another day.
moore claims that long waiting lists are a result of care that is so excellent that Canadians are just living too dang long. Ruined by success, he'd say. The fact is, there are too few doctors. Costs, don't you know. "Today, according to the OECD, Canada ranks 24th out of 28 major industrialized countries in doctors per thousand people." That, in case you're not a math genius, sucks. Says moore, "the only way [US corporations] can turn the big profit is to not pay out the money, to not provide the care!" This may or may not be true, but it truly is what Canada is doing. And if profit is the deciding factor, by moore's reasoning our system must be excellent, since "85% of hospital beds in the U.S. are in nonprofit hospitals, and almost half of us with private plans get our insurance from nonprofit providers." But perhaps it's best not to inconvenience ourselves with troublesome facts.
Is a government monopoly on health care the way to go? In June of 2005, the Canadian Supreme Court ruled that such a system was a "violation of basic human rights."
Numbers, however, and comparisons and court rulings and facts are all pretty, um, linear -- awfully Western and consequently bad. Isn't there some more emotional way we can prove our case? Oh my yes, I've got proof all right. More than you can handle. Super proof. In fact, somebody call the DuVaNCi Cod guy, cuz I've found a secret Nostradamus-like prophecy in the sacred writ of Lewis Carroll -- not a quatrain, however, but, uh, a sextrain. (Oh grow up -- sexrain is just as bad.) So here's your proof, Mr. Skeptical Logic Guy. Get ready. Here it is:
"The time has come," the Walrus said,
"To talk of many things:
Of shoes -- and ships -- and sealing-wax --
Of cabbages -- and kings --
And why the sea is boiling hot --
And whether pigs have wings."
Don't you see it? The proof? It's so obvious! The cabbage is clearly Cuba, and what kings could it be but those of Great Britain! Canada then is surely to be found in the broad-sailed ships at its surf-beaten shores, and in the sealing-wax of the great sap-dripping forests that skirt its wide plains. As for the shoes, we'll have to wait for moore to pull them out of his ass, the way he does with his facts. Al Gore's the man to see about the boiling seas, and we'll look to the Learjet liberals to find the flying pigs.
I love it when things work out so perfectly. What? My premise is flawed? No, your premise is flawed. Haven't I just put a bunch of words together? -- shaped them with the consummate artistry of the master craftsman? That proves I'm right.
mikael and me, the walrus and the carpenter -- what a team.
J
Showing posts with label health. Show all posts
Showing posts with label health. Show all posts
Tuesday, July 17, 2007
Saturday, April 21, 2007
From My Mountaintop
What, you thought I was kidding? I'm fasting. My flesh seems to be thinking it's awfully important, and I figure I need to put it in its place. We get caught up in our appetites, don't we. Calls for a little reminder about priorities.
It was a positive act of will this morning not to go roll. Madness, it would have been. There I was, up and teetering at the doorstep, quivering like a magnificent thoroughbred at the gates, and only by a colossal wrenching of my prodigious self-control and wisdom and uh smartitude and stuff was I able to pull back from that perilous brink! There's diminishing returns, then there's flogging a dead horse. As it were. Here I am always blathering on about sensible exercise, and I won't take any time off. But that's what all that noise was about addiction. I, however, unlike the rest of mere humanity, am above my addictions. They can be addicted to me. I will never be a recovering addict. Recovered. Recovered addict. No, it's not hubris. Of course one might fall into old negative patterns. But if words have power, then choose them carefully. I am not a victim. I am a victor. Thus, swinging the ponderous weight of my mighty intellect to confront the issue, and heaving my indomitable will to the fore, I resolved to give my wavering flesh a respite from both the rigors of exertion and the chore of digestion.
Maybe I'll eat tomorrow. I don't want to go all anchorite right now. Just simple fare though. Leave out the oils and proteins. Did you know that broccoli has more proteins than sugars? The numbers always vary depending on sources, but I just looked it up and this time it's 1.7g sugars and 2.82g protein per 100g. And spinach! It has 0.4 for sugars, and 2.9 for protein! Atkins was a retard.
I'm thinking that a little fast might do some good for the aches. A little good, cuz it's a little fast. Can't do anything longer since I'm planning -- still planning -- on competing next Sunday. I've been really rundown these past few weeks, but just wouldn't slow down. As I say, not so wise, since the quality of my efforts is not at all high. If I didn't ache so much I could do much more convincing standup. But as I've said, my rolling isn't about getting a skill. So a small fast, and two whole days in a row of rest, and maybe I'll feel a little more human. Well, let's be honest. It's me we're talking about after all. As usual. Maybe I'll feel a little more superhuman. Ahhh.
So? That's it then. What else is there to say? Move along, there's nothing else to see here. Move along.
J
It was a positive act of will this morning not to go roll. Madness, it would have been. There I was, up and teetering at the doorstep, quivering like a magnificent thoroughbred at the gates, and only by a colossal wrenching of my prodigious self-control and wisdom and uh smartitude and stuff was I able to pull back from that perilous brink! There's diminishing returns, then there's flogging a dead horse. As it were. Here I am always blathering on about sensible exercise, and I won't take any time off. But that's what all that noise was about addiction. I, however, unlike the rest of mere humanity, am above my addictions. They can be addicted to me. I will never be a recovering addict. Recovered. Recovered addict. No, it's not hubris. Of course one might fall into old negative patterns. But if words have power, then choose them carefully. I am not a victim. I am a victor. Thus, swinging the ponderous weight of my mighty intellect to confront the issue, and heaving my indomitable will to the fore, I resolved to give my wavering flesh a respite from both the rigors of exertion and the chore of digestion.
Maybe I'll eat tomorrow. I don't want to go all anchorite right now. Just simple fare though. Leave out the oils and proteins. Did you know that broccoli has more proteins than sugars? The numbers always vary depending on sources, but I just looked it up and this time it's 1.7g sugars and 2.82g protein per 100g. And spinach! It has 0.4 for sugars, and 2.9 for protein! Atkins was a retard.
I'm thinking that a little fast might do some good for the aches. A little good, cuz it's a little fast. Can't do anything longer since I'm planning -- still planning -- on competing next Sunday. I've been really rundown these past few weeks, but just wouldn't slow down. As I say, not so wise, since the quality of my efforts is not at all high. If I didn't ache so much I could do much more convincing standup. But as I've said, my rolling isn't about getting a skill. So a small fast, and two whole days in a row of rest, and maybe I'll feel a little more human. Well, let's be honest. It's me we're talking about after all. As usual. Maybe I'll feel a little more superhuman. Ahhh.
So? That's it then. What else is there to say? Move along, there's nothing else to see here. Move along.
J
Wednesday, March 28, 2007
Sick
Someone, in some context -- I couldn't be bothered to remember ... because I'm not your bloody stenographer, is why -- mentioned those exotic super berries from the dripping bowels of the Amazonian Rain Jungle. Açaí. Has even more antioxidants than blueberries. Oh! Let's all race out and buy a couple of gallons worth, at ten bucks a gram. Cuz it has all them antioxidants and such.
How many people don't even bother with the easy stuff, yet get all tumescent over the idea of the exotic? Yes, açaí has ... have? ... more antioxidants than blueberries. Which is fascinating, but not all that useful, if you don't even eat blueberries. The point is about being practical. True, you can bankrupt yourself on Baikal caviar, but why not eat fisheggs? If you're into that sort of thing, I mean. They taste the same, and do the same job. That's my theory, and for purposes of this example, it is correct. Save your petty caviling for someone who wants to hear it.
I used the example before: populations that eat potatoes have less of a certain type of cancer. Not of all cancers -- just a certain type. This tells us that at least some cancers are a deficiency disease. Like scurvy. Like rickets. Like, um, beriberi. The obvious lesson is that we want to include as wide a variety of nutrients in our diet as is reasonable. Give your body what it needs to heal itself, and to keep itself healthy.
No medicine, no drug ever cured a disease. Diseases do get cured, but it isn't toxic chemicals that do it. Well, maybe they kill tapeworms -- but that's more a condition than a disease. What drugs do is suppress aggravating factors, so that your body can heal itself. It only takes a bit of thought to see the truth in this. Drugs can only stimulate your own body to do a job, or attack something that's causing a problem. Neither stimulation nor suppression is a cure. I won't labor the obvious. The really good doctors know this. It makes them humble. The foolish doctors are all about symptoms. I won't belabor this obviousness either.
So, yes, add a spoonful of açaí berries to your diet. Why not? But don't imagine that it will make even a noticeable difference. What will make a noticeable difference is having a wide spectrum of nutrients in your diet. Some your body will need, some not -- but it will have the choice. Maybe you're not susceptible to such and such a cancer. But since you don't have your genome memorized, it's better to graze than to binge -- roam the wide savanna, don't hunch over the carcass and glut yourself on zebra guts. Cuz your body does have its genome memorized -- it knows what it needs, even if you don't.
Eating complex meals, in which there are many nutrients, does have its risks. As I've been known to observe, the enteric system -- the whole digestive system -- has as many neurons, as many "brain" cells as the brain does. The obvious conclusion is that digestion is a fantastically complex process. The greater the variety of foods you eat in a single meal, the more complex the process of digestion will be. It's not just a blender, your gut, where everything is dumped into an acid bath and dissolved into a featureless paste -- like something from McDnlds (I cannot pollute the purity of my lips with even the name). Carbs aren't even digested in the stomach. Meat. Proteins. Not carbs. Carbs get digested farther along. The thirty feet of small intestines you've got coiled up under all that fat aren't just a long hose to the toilet. Specific nutrients get absorbed at only certain spots along the way. It's very complex. So sometimes it makes sense to give your body a break, and eat simply.
My digestion is perfect. Never had any problems. But I eat simple foods, simply prepared. Lots of nutrients, but all plant-origin. My point is that I have a smart body. It can easily handle the few and simple problems I throw at it. Some people have stupid bodies. Through years of abuse, their digestive system has become befuddled and confused, and just can't do a lot of complex thinking any more. It's like calculus. If you know it, and are thinking straight, you can solve the problem. If you never learned it, or have become stultified over the years through sloth and auto-intoxication, then forget about it. Get it? There's a brain in your gut. It has an IQ. You can make it retarded. If you do, it will take its unsubtle revenge.
Antioxidants are like Stonehenge. One sarsen stone may be much taller and more impressive than all the others. But it's not Stonehenge unless it describes a circle. Get it? Açaí may indeed be the tallest pillar. You can't live on a pillar. Get it? Built a wall. Build four of them, and add a roof. Get it? Some specific species of berry provides a rich supply of beneficent plant chemicals, although along a narrow band of the vast spectrum of nutrients. That's so wonderful, but how about you flood yourself in brilliant light? How about you ensconce yourself in the noble bastion of mighty security, so that when the chill hand of the boreal wind comes clutching after your throat, you'll have some shield to fend off the blah blah blah. God. What do I have to do to make myself heard? Write in blank verse? Have Frank Miller illustrate it? Dance naked at your bar mitzvah? You'd just love that, wouldn't you. Oh look at Jack up there, all naked! Wow, that's hot. You're sick. Thinking about me all naked like that, sweat dripping down my muscular thighs. Sicko.
The upshot is, get started. Go ahead and continue eating dead things. But eat something that will help you live, too. For my part, I'm not happy. I'm not entirely healthy. But I'm healthy physically. And that's a lot better than being not happy and not entirely healthy and physically unhealthy. So, should we make a deal? You test what I've said, and see if it works, and find yourself stronger and feeling better. And I'll try to get happy. Deal? But I'm not going to start until you do. I've told you my secrets. I'll be waiting to hear from you, about how you're so bloody happy and all that crap. Okay? You tell me your amazing super secrets of ultimate unlimited and eternal mega happiness. I just can't wait. Cuz I'm clocking in at about four hundred emotional pounds, with spiritual diabetes and social high blood pressure. And I've done so much for you. You can't give me a little something, some tiny little nothing, a grot, a moiety, some smidge in return out of the boundless cosmos of your godlike wisdom? Share all those crafty secrets of your slobbering happiness that you've been storing up so prudently? Let your poor pathetic pal Jack in on some of your hard-won and sure-fire uberwisdom? So I can change my name from Jack Hell to Jack Happenis? You're a regular frickin Nietzsche, so won't you toot it at me, O Thou Mage of All Contentment? No. I didn't think so. People are such pigs. As if I'd believe anything you said anyway. Forget it then. Nobody cares. Why do I even bother. What's the point of any of it. Sick. You make me sick, is all. How do I delete this stinking thing. You can just go to hell.
J
How many people don't even bother with the easy stuff, yet get all tumescent over the idea of the exotic? Yes, açaí has ... have? ... more antioxidants than blueberries. Which is fascinating, but not all that useful, if you don't even eat blueberries. The point is about being practical. True, you can bankrupt yourself on Baikal caviar, but why not eat fisheggs? If you're into that sort of thing, I mean. They taste the same, and do the same job. That's my theory, and for purposes of this example, it is correct. Save your petty caviling for someone who wants to hear it.
I used the example before: populations that eat potatoes have less of a certain type of cancer. Not of all cancers -- just a certain type. This tells us that at least some cancers are a deficiency disease. Like scurvy. Like rickets. Like, um, beriberi. The obvious lesson is that we want to include as wide a variety of nutrients in our diet as is reasonable. Give your body what it needs to heal itself, and to keep itself healthy.
No medicine, no drug ever cured a disease. Diseases do get cured, but it isn't toxic chemicals that do it. Well, maybe they kill tapeworms -- but that's more a condition than a disease. What drugs do is suppress aggravating factors, so that your body can heal itself. It only takes a bit of thought to see the truth in this. Drugs can only stimulate your own body to do a job, or attack something that's causing a problem. Neither stimulation nor suppression is a cure. I won't labor the obvious. The really good doctors know this. It makes them humble. The foolish doctors are all about symptoms. I won't belabor this obviousness either.
So, yes, add a spoonful of açaí berries to your diet. Why not? But don't imagine that it will make even a noticeable difference. What will make a noticeable difference is having a wide spectrum of nutrients in your diet. Some your body will need, some not -- but it will have the choice. Maybe you're not susceptible to such and such a cancer. But since you don't have your genome memorized, it's better to graze than to binge -- roam the wide savanna, don't hunch over the carcass and glut yourself on zebra guts. Cuz your body does have its genome memorized -- it knows what it needs, even if you don't.
Eating complex meals, in which there are many nutrients, does have its risks. As I've been known to observe, the enteric system -- the whole digestive system -- has as many neurons, as many "brain" cells as the brain does. The obvious conclusion is that digestion is a fantastically complex process. The greater the variety of foods you eat in a single meal, the more complex the process of digestion will be. It's not just a blender, your gut, where everything is dumped into an acid bath and dissolved into a featureless paste -- like something from McDnlds (I cannot pollute the purity of my lips with even the name). Carbs aren't even digested in the stomach. Meat. Proteins. Not carbs. Carbs get digested farther along. The thirty feet of small intestines you've got coiled up under all that fat aren't just a long hose to the toilet. Specific nutrients get absorbed at only certain spots along the way. It's very complex. So sometimes it makes sense to give your body a break, and eat simply.
My digestion is perfect. Never had any problems. But I eat simple foods, simply prepared. Lots of nutrients, but all plant-origin. My point is that I have a smart body. It can easily handle the few and simple problems I throw at it. Some people have stupid bodies. Through years of abuse, their digestive system has become befuddled and confused, and just can't do a lot of complex thinking any more. It's like calculus. If you know it, and are thinking straight, you can solve the problem. If you never learned it, or have become stultified over the years through sloth and auto-intoxication, then forget about it. Get it? There's a brain in your gut. It has an IQ. You can make it retarded. If you do, it will take its unsubtle revenge.
Antioxidants are like Stonehenge. One sarsen stone may be much taller and more impressive than all the others. But it's not Stonehenge unless it describes a circle. Get it? Açaí may indeed be the tallest pillar. You can't live on a pillar. Get it? Built a wall. Build four of them, and add a roof. Get it? Some specific species of berry provides a rich supply of beneficent plant chemicals, although along a narrow band of the vast spectrum of nutrients. That's so wonderful, but how about you flood yourself in brilliant light? How about you ensconce yourself in the noble bastion of mighty security, so that when the chill hand of the boreal wind comes clutching after your throat, you'll have some shield to fend off the blah blah blah. God. What do I have to do to make myself heard? Write in blank verse? Have Frank Miller illustrate it? Dance naked at your bar mitzvah? You'd just love that, wouldn't you. Oh look at Jack up there, all naked! Wow, that's hot. You're sick. Thinking about me all naked like that, sweat dripping down my muscular thighs. Sicko.
The upshot is, get started. Go ahead and continue eating dead things. But eat something that will help you live, too. For my part, I'm not happy. I'm not entirely healthy. But I'm healthy physically. And that's a lot better than being not happy and not entirely healthy and physically unhealthy. So, should we make a deal? You test what I've said, and see if it works, and find yourself stronger and feeling better. And I'll try to get happy. Deal? But I'm not going to start until you do. I've told you my secrets. I'll be waiting to hear from you, about how you're so bloody happy and all that crap. Okay? You tell me your amazing super secrets of ultimate unlimited and eternal mega happiness. I just can't wait. Cuz I'm clocking in at about four hundred emotional pounds, with spiritual diabetes and social high blood pressure. And I've done so much for you. You can't give me a little something, some tiny little nothing, a grot, a moiety, some smidge in return out of the boundless cosmos of your godlike wisdom? Share all those crafty secrets of your slobbering happiness that you've been storing up so prudently? Let your poor pathetic pal Jack in on some of your hard-won and sure-fire uberwisdom? So I can change my name from Jack Hell to Jack Happenis? You're a regular frickin Nietzsche, so won't you toot it at me, O Thou Mage of All Contentment? No. I didn't think so. People are such pigs. As if I'd believe anything you said anyway. Forget it then. Nobody cares. Why do I even bother. What's the point of any of it. Sick. You make me sick, is all. How do I delete this stinking thing. You can just go to hell.
J
Friday, February 2, 2007
Strength
Excercise. I spelled it right. I'm sure I did. Wait. Exercise? Yes. Exercise. So I added a c. That's not a bad thing. It's always been exersize before. No c at all. No size. Which isn't entirely logical, when you think about it. Or entirely illogical. But what does logic have to do with spelling.
Let's start with basics. There's activity. Activity is not exercise. Walking around -- I'm on my feet all day long! It's just movement. Golf. Bowling. Washing dishes. Activity. No embarrassment in this fact. All manner of biological organisms demonstrate a capacity for activity. It's a sign of life. This is a good thing. We are not, after all, inert matter. Most of us aren't. And our activity is of a much higher order than, say, that of mere crystals. We are much more active than crystals. Why, the comparison is ludicrous. But crystals, and some number of humans, do demonstrate a low level of activity. Certainly not exercise. Exercise requires an accelerated heartrate. Crystals don't even have a heart. Didn't you know that?
Exercising once in a while. It's a good thing, I suppose. It's like putting money in the bank, once in a while. In a while, in five or ten years, you might be able to take a vacation. That's a good thing. Same with exercise. I'm sure there must be some good thing about making yourself tired once in a while. I can't really see what the advantage would be. I don't quite see how randomly stressing your unconditioned body every three or four months is safe or reasonable. But I'm sure there must be benefits. Lots of benefits. I'm sure hardly any of the bloodclots and chunks of cholesterol that are pried loose from your veins won't lodge in your brain. Won't lodge -- or do I mean will lodge. Hardly any will lodge. Yes, I'm sure that's what I mean. Hardly any won't lodge -- why, that would mean such rare and erratic exercise might be irresponsible and even dangerous. Absurd. I'm sure your flabby muscles won't spasm and your brittle tendons won't tear. Hardly ever. Yes, overall, I'm sure exercising violently once in a while is a really good and smart and prudent thing to do.
And then there's training. The gradual and progressive stressing of your body according to an intelligently designed plan. So that it has time to adapt, to grow and strengthen not in some haphazard way, not as if you were fleeing wildfires or in a war or something. You know, rational. Warm up. Start slow and easy. Gradually increase intensity, both per session and over weeks and months. Don't overtrain. Work toward specific, measurable goals. Schedule down-time, then set new goals.
Everybody in the world has said to themselves, I'm gonna git in shape! Hardly anyone is in shape. Hmm. It's not about inspiration. It's about motivation, by which I do not mean wanting to do something. Motivation has in it the idea of, um, motility. Motion. Yeah, that's what I mean. It's not about emotion. Emotion is great, and if that will cut it for you, go for it. But that rather makes the issue of working out one of mood. Shall we be subject to our moods? Oh, I don't feel like working out today. To which there is hardly any response. Yes, you do to feel like working out today? That's just a lie. You'll work out or I'll beat your head in with this rock? That's just uncivilized.
Part of the problem is that folks don't have a clear idea of what being in shape means. It really isn't about shape. It's about improved function. There are, after all, the mirror muscles -- the prettyboy muscles that the teenagers see in the mirror and think that's all that matters. So you see these dudes with the big manly pecs and the soft curvy womanish backs. Quite sexy, if you're into that sort of thing. Androgynous. These boys do indeed have the shape they think they want. But they're not really in shape. There are muscles that you can't even see, that are simply super-dooper important. Like your heart, junior. It's all part of that plan I was talking about earlier. Remember?
Ah well. When I'm doing a strength training cycle, I keep it very simple. I am not a body builder. Not about how pretty I am. How could I get prettier? I'm too pretty as it is. I'm looking to increase usable strength -- you know, to improve the quality of my life? So I do a few simple movements.
Whatever you push, you should pull. Muscles work in opposition to each other. If you don't work both functions, you'll get imbalanced, which means you will get injured. Trust me. I'm a genius. If you do crunches, do back extensions. If you do pull ups, do overhead presses. If you do bench presses, do rows. The upper body does only two things: it pushes and it pulls. So push and pull. Easy.
But two-thirds of your muscle mass is below your waist. Oh grow up. So work your legs. Squats, leg-press, -extensions, -curls. You've seen the machines. Oh, by the way, Einstein, use enough weight. When you walk up stairs, you're carrying all your weight on one leg. So why are you doing leg presses with 40 pounds? Think! The point is that the weight room (which I seem to be focusing on) isn't about moving weight. It's about hormones. The clearest way to send the message to your brain to get the hormones working, is to use a lot of weight. Hey brain, I'm really working here, better make me stronger. This is the reason that lifting a pencil a thousand times doesn't give you big sexy muscles. Got it? No matter how big your hot sexy biceps are, they're still relatively small muscles. By engaging major muscle mass, like glutes and quads, the signal to the brain is clear enough to be overwhelming. Your neck will get stronger, just from the extra hormones in your blood.
What do I recommend? Simplicity, as I've said. Squats, deadlifts, chinups and overhead press, dips and rows. Curls? Please. Don't. What do you suppose chinups do? Wrist to shoulder ... why, that's just like curls!!! But you're also hitting the delts and the back and the abs and the shoulders and all the little stabilizer muscles in the forearms. It's a smart and natural movement. Curls are for idiots. Or for prettyboys. I want really big arms. People will be so impressed with my massive muscular manly macho guns. Grr. And just overlook the fact that I have deltoids like a twelve year old girl's.
I can think of no natural movement that curls mimic. Muscles do not function in isolation. It's a nice theory, and if you really want to work out according to the Frankenstein theory, one bodypart at a time, by all means do so. Who am I, your humble servant, to heap scorn and ridicule upon your ill-conceived and gullible hypothesis? And it does indeed work, if you have the genetics for it, and the steroids. But for normal people it's not such a great idea. Don't believe me? Look at the average guys in the gym. They've read the magazines and are doing the prettyboy workouts, and not making any real progress.
Do as few movements as possible, give yourself time between workouts to recover and build, and stick with it. Do more every workout -- either a little more weight, or another rep up to your goal. When you hit your goal reps, of say ten, time to add weight. If you can only do eight reps, keep that same weight and do nine or ten the next workout. Then add weight. Simple.
Strength training makes your bones denser and your skin thicker. It ups your HGH and testosterone levels. It makes you measurably more youthful. It regulates insulin and increases your metabolic rate. You use a hundred calories per day, for every pound of muscle you add. Works out to 8 pounds of fat each year, burned just keeping that tissue warm. That's just off the top of my head.
So what have we learned, today? Well first, and as usual, we have seen how smart I am. I'm wonderful. And I'm hot and sexy, and very masculine. I think that about covers it. Anyone who would like pictures of me, just leave a note in the comments. No, on second thought, email me privately. Yeah.
No, it doesn't have anything to do with the fact that I'd be embarrassed if no one leaves a comment. Stupid of you to have even thought such a thing.
What? I'm not insecure. You are.
J
Let's start with basics. There's activity. Activity is not exercise. Walking around -- I'm on my feet all day long! It's just movement. Golf. Bowling. Washing dishes. Activity. No embarrassment in this fact. All manner of biological organisms demonstrate a capacity for activity. It's a sign of life. This is a good thing. We are not, after all, inert matter. Most of us aren't. And our activity is of a much higher order than, say, that of mere crystals. We are much more active than crystals. Why, the comparison is ludicrous. But crystals, and some number of humans, do demonstrate a low level of activity. Certainly not exercise. Exercise requires an accelerated heartrate. Crystals don't even have a heart. Didn't you know that?
Exercising once in a while. It's a good thing, I suppose. It's like putting money in the bank, once in a while. In a while, in five or ten years, you might be able to take a vacation. That's a good thing. Same with exercise. I'm sure there must be some good thing about making yourself tired once in a while. I can't really see what the advantage would be. I don't quite see how randomly stressing your unconditioned body every three or four months is safe or reasonable. But I'm sure there must be benefits. Lots of benefits. I'm sure hardly any of the bloodclots and chunks of cholesterol that are pried loose from your veins won't lodge in your brain. Won't lodge -- or do I mean will lodge. Hardly any will lodge. Yes, I'm sure that's what I mean. Hardly any won't lodge -- why, that would mean such rare and erratic exercise might be irresponsible and even dangerous. Absurd. I'm sure your flabby muscles won't spasm and your brittle tendons won't tear. Hardly ever. Yes, overall, I'm sure exercising violently once in a while is a really good and smart and prudent thing to do.
And then there's training. The gradual and progressive stressing of your body according to an intelligently designed plan. So that it has time to adapt, to grow and strengthen not in some haphazard way, not as if you were fleeing wildfires or in a war or something. You know, rational. Warm up. Start slow and easy. Gradually increase intensity, both per session and over weeks and months. Don't overtrain. Work toward specific, measurable goals. Schedule down-time, then set new goals.
Everybody in the world has said to themselves, I'm gonna git in shape! Hardly anyone is in shape. Hmm. It's not about inspiration. It's about motivation, by which I do not mean wanting to do something. Motivation has in it the idea of, um, motility. Motion. Yeah, that's what I mean. It's not about emotion. Emotion is great, and if that will cut it for you, go for it. But that rather makes the issue of working out one of mood. Shall we be subject to our moods? Oh, I don't feel like working out today. To which there is hardly any response. Yes, you do to feel like working out today? That's just a lie. You'll work out or I'll beat your head in with this rock? That's just uncivilized.
Part of the problem is that folks don't have a clear idea of what being in shape means. It really isn't about shape. It's about improved function. There are, after all, the mirror muscles -- the prettyboy muscles that the teenagers see in the mirror and think that's all that matters. So you see these dudes with the big manly pecs and the soft curvy womanish backs. Quite sexy, if you're into that sort of thing. Androgynous. These boys do indeed have the shape they think they want. But they're not really in shape. There are muscles that you can't even see, that are simply super-dooper important. Like your heart, junior. It's all part of that plan I was talking about earlier. Remember?
Ah well. When I'm doing a strength training cycle, I keep it very simple. I am not a body builder. Not about how pretty I am. How could I get prettier? I'm too pretty as it is. I'm looking to increase usable strength -- you know, to improve the quality of my life? So I do a few simple movements.
Whatever you push, you should pull. Muscles work in opposition to each other. If you don't work both functions, you'll get imbalanced, which means you will get injured. Trust me. I'm a genius. If you do crunches, do back extensions. If you do pull ups, do overhead presses. If you do bench presses, do rows. The upper body does only two things: it pushes and it pulls. So push and pull. Easy.
But two-thirds of your muscle mass is below your waist. Oh grow up. So work your legs. Squats, leg-press, -extensions, -curls. You've seen the machines. Oh, by the way, Einstein, use enough weight. When you walk up stairs, you're carrying all your weight on one leg. So why are you doing leg presses with 40 pounds? Think! The point is that the weight room (which I seem to be focusing on) isn't about moving weight. It's about hormones. The clearest way to send the message to your brain to get the hormones working, is to use a lot of weight. Hey brain, I'm really working here, better make me stronger. This is the reason that lifting a pencil a thousand times doesn't give you big sexy muscles. Got it? No matter how big your hot sexy biceps are, they're still relatively small muscles. By engaging major muscle mass, like glutes and quads, the signal to the brain is clear enough to be overwhelming. Your neck will get stronger, just from the extra hormones in your blood.
What do I recommend? Simplicity, as I've said. Squats, deadlifts, chinups and overhead press, dips and rows. Curls? Please. Don't. What do you suppose chinups do? Wrist to shoulder ... why, that's just like curls!!! But you're also hitting the delts and the back and the abs and the shoulders and all the little stabilizer muscles in the forearms. It's a smart and natural movement. Curls are for idiots. Or for prettyboys. I want really big arms. People will be so impressed with my massive muscular manly macho guns. Grr. And just overlook the fact that I have deltoids like a twelve year old girl's.
I can think of no natural movement that curls mimic. Muscles do not function in isolation. It's a nice theory, and if you really want to work out according to the Frankenstein theory, one bodypart at a time, by all means do so. Who am I, your humble servant, to heap scorn and ridicule upon your ill-conceived and gullible hypothesis? And it does indeed work, if you have the genetics for it, and the steroids. But for normal people it's not such a great idea. Don't believe me? Look at the average guys in the gym. They've read the magazines and are doing the prettyboy workouts, and not making any real progress.
Do as few movements as possible, give yourself time between workouts to recover and build, and stick with it. Do more every workout -- either a little more weight, or another rep up to your goal. When you hit your goal reps, of say ten, time to add weight. If you can only do eight reps, keep that same weight and do nine or ten the next workout. Then add weight. Simple.
Strength training makes your bones denser and your skin thicker. It ups your HGH and testosterone levels. It makes you measurably more youthful. It regulates insulin and increases your metabolic rate. You use a hundred calories per day, for every pound of muscle you add. Works out to 8 pounds of fat each year, burned just keeping that tissue warm. That's just off the top of my head.
So what have we learned, today? Well first, and as usual, we have seen how smart I am. I'm wonderful. And I'm hot and sexy, and very masculine. I think that about covers it. Anyone who would like pictures of me, just leave a note in the comments. No, on second thought, email me privately. Yeah.
No, it doesn't have anything to do with the fact that I'd be embarrassed if no one leaves a comment. Stupid of you to have even thought such a thing.
What? I'm not insecure. You are.
J
Monday, January 29, 2007
Recipes --
by which I mean things you should do to increase the rationality, quality and/or hygiene of your life:
1. Never pet a cat that has a wet tail.
2. If you shave your head, be sure to shave your back too.
3. Eat properly.
Okay, maybe those first two aren't all that universally practical. But eating properly is always a good idea. So I'll elaborate. I eat two meal a day. By meals, I mean meals of excellent nutrition. Not just food. Nutrition. Anything you can eat -- that is, anything you can fit into your mouth might be called food. Yuck. By meals, I also mean meals of an appropriate quantity. Never eat more than you can carry. Never swallow anything bigger than your head.
So. I have a berry-fruit smoothie for breakfast & lunch. Very easy, and superb nutrition. I take a handful (as it were) each of frozen blueberries, mixed raspberries, blackberries and strawberries, etc, cherries, mixed mango, pineapple and kiwi, etc, and blend it with an appropriate amount of water. Add a tablespoon of protein powder, some coconut oil, some flax seed oil, some aloe vera juice. It's all to taste.
The ORAC value is off the charts (google "orac antioxidant" and give yourself an education). Amazingly low in calories -- the oils bring it up, but they are essential too. Flax seed oil is a precursor to the omega 3 EFAs (google "efa epa dha", or just look at Wikipedia). Coconut oil is indeed a saturated fat, but it's a medium chain fatty acid, which metabolizes more like a carb -- it has seven rather than the usual nine calories per gram, and it's thermogenic (makes you burn more calories than it contributes), and, weirdly, it's highly antiviral (I won't go into the reasons). There are satiation receptors in the brain that monitor for fats, and by adding a small amount you'll help yourself figure out that you're not hungry. I use a veggie based protein powder, just a tablespoon or so -- because I exercise so much. The aloe vera is just an anti-inflammatory perk.
A blender-full makes four or five glasses. One every two or three hours is ideal. What, it's not solid? Well, yes and no. But so what? Do you chew soup? You just go argue with yourself. Or you could bother to inform yourself of the facts. I'm just giving recipes, here.
The other meal is a sort of vegetable stew. Frozen broccoli, cauliflower, mixed peppers, corn and peas and green beans and string beans and carrots, and whatever else catches your eye at the store. Bring it to a boil, chop in a tomato and some extra-firm tofu (oh grow up). Pretty boring and not all that flavorful. So add seasonings. I add lots of apple cider vinegar (google it), a splash of extra virgin olive oil, turmeric (anti-inflammatory), cayenne pepper (trust me, it's good for you ... but watch out), cinnamon (weirdly, it increases your insulin receptivity -- a very good thing), basil, oregano, parsley, any other spices that catch my eye, and something called Bragg Liquid Aminos -- very savory and makes all the difference ... really tasty.
There's the hunger of an empty belly, which isn't hunger at all. Then there's the hunger from not getting enough nutrients -- biochems that your body needs to build and repair itself. The standard American diet -- SAD -- is really good at causing high-calorie malnutrition. Empty calories. Calories, from my perspective, are not the defining characteristic of food. Nutrients are. It's the difference between eating, say, just sugar (ALL carbs break down into glucose), or (complex) veggies and fruits and berries. One will, eventually, make you sick and kill you. Literally. The other will bring optimal health. Empty calories, opposed to nutrient-dense calories.
There are plenty of easy-to-read books on intelligent nutrition. SuperFoods Rx, for example. Not moonbeam, not vegetarian. You don't have to fast -- although it's a phenomenal way to rebuild health. Don't argue with me. Educate yourself. I fasted for ten days once. Just water. It was easy. No lie. You don't have to be vegetarian, although it eludes me as to why you think you need to devour the rotting albeit refrigerated carcass of some factory-bred vertebrate. It starts to rot as soon as you kill it. Then it rots inside your guts. Why do you think dead things stink? Didn't you know that? But no, really, somehow eating meat is really gonna make you big and strong. Protein, you know. Meat is a complete protein! Complete! That's so much better than incomplete! Incomplete is so bad! And protein, complete (!) protein is like the only really important nutrient. That and carbs. But carbs are also bad. That Atkins is the bomb! And all them phytochemicals is all just too confusing. And fruits is for fruits. Real men eat meat. Vegetarians is all fags. Yeah.
There. That wasn't too preachy, was it? I disguise my preachiness through sarcasm. Clever, eh? Do what you want, but do what you can. If I have any regular readers, I would hope that it's not just because you find some amusing lines here and there. I would hope that even where you disagree with me, you respect the integrity that I strive to bring to these efforts. If I have earned any trust at all, let my lean on it now, and urge you, with every measure of sincerity that I possess, to inform yourself in these matters. Health is not magic. We build it, out of food.
This blog is the dark template of my ego. I indulge myself here in socially inappropriate ways. The anonymity of the format encourages me to revelations, however veiled, that I have not courage to share more directly. But it is not ego, it is not artfulness, it is not me blathering on about my abs, when I assert that I am very surprising, physically -- for any age, let alone late-40s. There is a reason for this, and it has little to do with heritage or native intelligence or special standing before God. It has to do with nearly 30 years of prudence. Food can kill you, and it can, really it can, make you well. It's not too late. It's not about being me. Be moderate, which means be responsible. When you notice results, it gets easier. Then it becomes the only way to be. But oh, for the leeks of Egypt!
4. Never reply to an email purporting to be from Suha Arafat.
J
1. Never pet a cat that has a wet tail.
2. If you shave your head, be sure to shave your back too.
3. Eat properly.
Okay, maybe those first two aren't all that universally practical. But eating properly is always a good idea. So I'll elaborate. I eat two meal a day. By meals, I mean meals of excellent nutrition. Not just food. Nutrition. Anything you can eat -- that is, anything you can fit into your mouth might be called food. Yuck. By meals, I also mean meals of an appropriate quantity. Never eat more than you can carry. Never swallow anything bigger than your head.
So. I have a berry-fruit smoothie for breakfast & lunch. Very easy, and superb nutrition. I take a handful (as it were) each of frozen blueberries, mixed raspberries, blackberries and strawberries, etc, cherries, mixed mango, pineapple and kiwi, etc, and blend it with an appropriate amount of water. Add a tablespoon of protein powder, some coconut oil, some flax seed oil, some aloe vera juice. It's all to taste.
The ORAC value is off the charts (google "orac antioxidant" and give yourself an education). Amazingly low in calories -- the oils bring it up, but they are essential too. Flax seed oil is a precursor to the omega 3 EFAs (google "efa epa dha", or just look at Wikipedia). Coconut oil is indeed a saturated fat, but it's a medium chain fatty acid, which metabolizes more like a carb -- it has seven rather than the usual nine calories per gram, and it's thermogenic (makes you burn more calories than it contributes), and, weirdly, it's highly antiviral (I won't go into the reasons). There are satiation receptors in the brain that monitor for fats, and by adding a small amount you'll help yourself figure out that you're not hungry. I use a veggie based protein powder, just a tablespoon or so -- because I exercise so much. The aloe vera is just an anti-inflammatory perk.
A blender-full makes four or five glasses. One every two or three hours is ideal. What, it's not solid? Well, yes and no. But so what? Do you chew soup? You just go argue with yourself. Or you could bother to inform yourself of the facts. I'm just giving recipes, here.
The other meal is a sort of vegetable stew. Frozen broccoli, cauliflower, mixed peppers, corn and peas and green beans and string beans and carrots, and whatever else catches your eye at the store. Bring it to a boil, chop in a tomato and some extra-firm tofu (oh grow up). Pretty boring and not all that flavorful. So add seasonings. I add lots of apple cider vinegar (google it), a splash of extra virgin olive oil, turmeric (anti-inflammatory), cayenne pepper (trust me, it's good for you ... but watch out), cinnamon (weirdly, it increases your insulin receptivity -- a very good thing), basil, oregano, parsley, any other spices that catch my eye, and something called Bragg Liquid Aminos -- very savory and makes all the difference ... really tasty.
There's the hunger of an empty belly, which isn't hunger at all. Then there's the hunger from not getting enough nutrients -- biochems that your body needs to build and repair itself. The standard American diet -- SAD -- is really good at causing high-calorie malnutrition. Empty calories. Calories, from my perspective, are not the defining characteristic of food. Nutrients are. It's the difference between eating, say, just sugar (ALL carbs break down into glucose), or (complex) veggies and fruits and berries. One will, eventually, make you sick and kill you. Literally. The other will bring optimal health. Empty calories, opposed to nutrient-dense calories.
There are plenty of easy-to-read books on intelligent nutrition. SuperFoods Rx, for example. Not moonbeam, not vegetarian. You don't have to fast -- although it's a phenomenal way to rebuild health. Don't argue with me. Educate yourself. I fasted for ten days once. Just water. It was easy. No lie. You don't have to be vegetarian, although it eludes me as to why you think you need to devour the rotting albeit refrigerated carcass of some factory-bred vertebrate. It starts to rot as soon as you kill it. Then it rots inside your guts. Why do you think dead things stink? Didn't you know that? But no, really, somehow eating meat is really gonna make you big and strong. Protein, you know. Meat is a complete protein! Complete! That's so much better than incomplete! Incomplete is so bad! And protein, complete (!) protein is like the only really important nutrient. That and carbs. But carbs are also bad. That Atkins is the bomb! And all them phytochemicals is all just too confusing. And fruits is for fruits. Real men eat meat. Vegetarians is all fags. Yeah.
There. That wasn't too preachy, was it? I disguise my preachiness through sarcasm. Clever, eh? Do what you want, but do what you can. If I have any regular readers, I would hope that it's not just because you find some amusing lines here and there. I would hope that even where you disagree with me, you respect the integrity that I strive to bring to these efforts. If I have earned any trust at all, let my lean on it now, and urge you, with every measure of sincerity that I possess, to inform yourself in these matters. Health is not magic. We build it, out of food.
This blog is the dark template of my ego. I indulge myself here in socially inappropriate ways. The anonymity of the format encourages me to revelations, however veiled, that I have not courage to share more directly. But it is not ego, it is not artfulness, it is not me blathering on about my abs, when I assert that I am very surprising, physically -- for any age, let alone late-40s. There is a reason for this, and it has little to do with heritage or native intelligence or special standing before God. It has to do with nearly 30 years of prudence. Food can kill you, and it can, really it can, make you well. It's not too late. It's not about being me. Be moderate, which means be responsible. When you notice results, it gets easier. Then it becomes the only way to be. But oh, for the leeks of Egypt!
4. Never reply to an email purporting to be from Suha Arafat.
J
Saturday, January 27, 2007
Why You Should Be More Like Me
Read an extremely annoying and illogical piece on vegetarianism. Vegetarianism, as if it were a philosophy. Vegetarianists. Meatism? Carnivoristas? That is the approach, in fact, of this Lazare character, in his review of a book entitled The Bloodless Revolution. If I were to review Lazare's review, I'd have to read it again, and I don't want to do that. The upshot is that he spends a few paragraphs on history, which was, um, old news but moderately interesting, and too many on sophomoric speculations about ethics and Hitler and speciesism -- what a word -- without ever coming round to a valid conclusion. It's all about theories and opinions. I prefer to deal with reality.
The degree of sentience in an animal is utterly unimportant, when it comes to whether or not eating its flesh is healthful to a human being. Questions as to whether or not we have the right to eat flesh because we breed animals for that purpose, which otherwise would never have been born -- or which if in the wild would be subject to a harsher life -- such questions are foolishness. Whether we hunt or whether we husband an animal is irrelevant to the question of whether or not it should be eaten.
The deciding factor, the only relevant factor, is whether or not devouring its flesh will sustain us in optimal health. If eating meat is good for us, then God or nature designed us that way, and to do otherwise would be unnatural. If eating meat is preponderantly unhealthful, then no other ethical question need be considered.
I've been vegetarian for coming on to 30 years. I have long since stopped expecting anyone to choose evidence over desire. Appetite decides behavior. Because there is nothing more emotional than food -- as I've been known to observe -- we cannot even expect rational judgments in this issue. You'd think we'd at least be able to agree on the facts. It's too much to expect.
So, Lazare concludes with several egregious misstatements. Health, he supposes, "no longer serves as an argument for vegetarianism ... since we know from studies of Okinawan centenarians and others that small amounts of meat and dark-fleshed fish are good for you; that moderate amounts of alcohol (which vegetarians for some reason appear to avoid) is good for you as well..."
Alas, Lazare comes forth but he does not rise. It is not the meat that promotes health, but the essential fatty acids within some few meats -- specifically game meat and cold water fish; these EFAs are amply available from plant sources, most notably flax seed oil. A quibble? In a sense, yes. If either is fine, then either is fine. But the Okinawan centenarians do not eat "small amounts" because of some great philosophical precept. They do it because of limited availability. Poverty enforces moderation. Given a more materially prosperous culture, the healthful diet not only disappears, but become a vice. How do we know? Because -- as I've just been reading, again -- when ethnic Japanese come to America and adopt its idiotic diet, they get exactly the same diseases, in exactly the same proportions, that fat stupid home-grown Americans get. There is no genetic component. It's diet. Diet is dictated by culture, and culture is shaped by resources.
As for alcohol, these always mis-stated studies do show a benefit to vascular health from one or two glasses of red wine sipped over the course of a day. They never mention that part, do they. It must have slipped their minds, somehow, for some reason. It couldn't be that they have an emotional vested interest in making their behavior seem intelligent. And they do not mention that there is an equal and oddly proportional increase in cerebral ischemia (stroke) with alcohol use. If your family is subject to heart attacks, drink a glass of wine. If it's subject to strokes, don't. And heaven forefend that you should exercise to achieve the same benefit. Just sit on your fat pimply ass with a beer and some pork rinds, mate. She'll be right. The beer will cancel out the fat. And ain't them GIRLS GONE WILD chicks hot? Full discloser: I've never taken a drink of alcohol in my life. And I ain't never seen them GIRLS neither.
Here's the point. Do what you want, and deal with the consequences. You don't have to do anything you don't want to do. You don't have to believe in cause and effect. You don't have to breathe. Most people claim they want to be happy, and most people suppose they'd like to be healthy. But most people also seem to think that DingDongs and Zima and the charred flesh of dead animal bodies are necessary ingredients in their recipe of happiness. Maybe they're right. Maybe they're special. I am, so other people could be too. But I'm special not because I have a magical body that extracts health from slow poisons. I'm special because I eat a diet pretty close to what humans were designed to eat.
I'm stronger than people expect not because I'm genetically gifted. I'm pretty average genetically, except for my height. I'm stronger because I've used an intelligent strength training program. I'm healthier because I've taken care of myself since I was a teenager. I don't look my age because I've kept my body-fat low and haven't gone out of my way to toxify myself in any of the usual ways. Simple. You'd think people would see what someone is doing that works, and want to do it themselves.
But it's not about rationality. It's about emotion. I'm the same way. There are areas of my life that are controlled by emotion. They're not likely to shorten my life. They're not likely to make me sick. They just don't increase my happiness.
Who needs happiness. I'd rather look good.
J
The degree of sentience in an animal is utterly unimportant, when it comes to whether or not eating its flesh is healthful to a human being. Questions as to whether or not we have the right to eat flesh because we breed animals for that purpose, which otherwise would never have been born -- or which if in the wild would be subject to a harsher life -- such questions are foolishness. Whether we hunt or whether we husband an animal is irrelevant to the question of whether or not it should be eaten.
The deciding factor, the only relevant factor, is whether or not devouring its flesh will sustain us in optimal health. If eating meat is good for us, then God or nature designed us that way, and to do otherwise would be unnatural. If eating meat is preponderantly unhealthful, then no other ethical question need be considered.
I've been vegetarian for coming on to 30 years. I have long since stopped expecting anyone to choose evidence over desire. Appetite decides behavior. Because there is nothing more emotional than food -- as I've been known to observe -- we cannot even expect rational judgments in this issue. You'd think we'd at least be able to agree on the facts. It's too much to expect.
So, Lazare concludes with several egregious misstatements. Health, he supposes, "no longer serves as an argument for vegetarianism ... since we know from studies of Okinawan centenarians and others that small amounts of meat and dark-fleshed fish are good for you; that moderate amounts of alcohol (which vegetarians for some reason appear to avoid) is good for you as well..."
Alas, Lazare comes forth but he does not rise. It is not the meat that promotes health, but the essential fatty acids within some few meats -- specifically game meat and cold water fish; these EFAs are amply available from plant sources, most notably flax seed oil. A quibble? In a sense, yes. If either is fine, then either is fine. But the Okinawan centenarians do not eat "small amounts" because of some great philosophical precept. They do it because of limited availability. Poverty enforces moderation. Given a more materially prosperous culture, the healthful diet not only disappears, but become a vice. How do we know? Because -- as I've just been reading, again -- when ethnic Japanese come to America and adopt its idiotic diet, they get exactly the same diseases, in exactly the same proportions, that fat stupid home-grown Americans get. There is no genetic component. It's diet. Diet is dictated by culture, and culture is shaped by resources.
As for alcohol, these always mis-stated studies do show a benefit to vascular health from one or two glasses of red wine sipped over the course of a day. They never mention that part, do they. It must have slipped their minds, somehow, for some reason. It couldn't be that they have an emotional vested interest in making their behavior seem intelligent. And they do not mention that there is an equal and oddly proportional increase in cerebral ischemia (stroke) with alcohol use. If your family is subject to heart attacks, drink a glass of wine. If it's subject to strokes, don't. And heaven forefend that you should exercise to achieve the same benefit. Just sit on your fat pimply ass with a beer and some pork rinds, mate. She'll be right. The beer will cancel out the fat. And ain't them GIRLS GONE WILD chicks hot? Full discloser: I've never taken a drink of alcohol in my life. And I ain't never seen them GIRLS neither.
Here's the point. Do what you want, and deal with the consequences. You don't have to do anything you don't want to do. You don't have to believe in cause and effect. You don't have to breathe. Most people claim they want to be happy, and most people suppose they'd like to be healthy. But most people also seem to think that DingDongs and Zima and the charred flesh of dead animal bodies are necessary ingredients in their recipe of happiness. Maybe they're right. Maybe they're special. I am, so other people could be too. But I'm special not because I have a magical body that extracts health from slow poisons. I'm special because I eat a diet pretty close to what humans were designed to eat.
I'm stronger than people expect not because I'm genetically gifted. I'm pretty average genetically, except for my height. I'm stronger because I've used an intelligent strength training program. I'm healthier because I've taken care of myself since I was a teenager. I don't look my age because I've kept my body-fat low and haven't gone out of my way to toxify myself in any of the usual ways. Simple. You'd think people would see what someone is doing that works, and want to do it themselves.
But it's not about rationality. It's about emotion. I'm the same way. There are areas of my life that are controlled by emotion. They're not likely to shorten my life. They're not likely to make me sick. They just don't increase my happiness.
Who needs happiness. I'd rather look good.
J
Saturday, September 30, 2006
Cookies
I do know something about health. Grew up in a fitness-conscious family, and expanded the interest to diet. My innate penchant for the academic, combined with the manifest physical benefits that become increasingly apparent as the years pass, give me a high degree of confidence that my ideas on the subject are reality based, rather than the sterile requirements of mere theory. I've referred, in my witty and appealing manner, to my own statuesque beauty -- the Classical masculine ideal -- but I fear sometimes a reader might think such self-descriptions are tongue in cheek. But no! I am gorgeous. In this instance, such a statement is not in itself its own justification. I use it -- or the fact behind it -- as evidence of the validity of a lifestyle of sensible exercise and sensible diet.
In the sport that I have recently come to love, there is a general interest, among the participants, in these issues. I strive to take care not to come off as Mr. Knowitall. As you will certainly understand by now, that is one of my secret identities. What can I say. It is my blessing -- it is my curse. Occasionally the question of dietary options does come up, and I have been known to volunteer my views on the subject.
There is nothing more emotional than food. It is the first comfort. We come crying from the womb, and whatever sensual pleasure there may be in the nipple, it is overwhelmed by the confounding pleasure of nourishment -- the sweet warm flow of milk, it soothes our natal tears. And when we cry as children, we are silenced with a cookie. And we have, with every Christmas memory, every Thanksgiving memory, or Halloween or Easter, the inseparable associations of food. Their smells make our mouths water. It is hospitality. It is celebration. No wedding, no birthday, without cake. Midnight ice cream, to comfort our broken hearts. Midnight pizza, when sleep won't come. Thus, a necessity is a compulsion. No wonder two thirds of Americans are overweight.
To change your diet is to change yourself. Not an easy thing to do. There's a fella I know, involved in the sport, who is really quite markedly overweight. But he has a game spirit, and deserves the encouragement that he gets. Obesity is a tough thing for a lot of reasons, but for my purposes it's tough because it speaks so publicly of a vice. We all have secret self-indulgences. They do not hang from our ribs in billowing folds, though. If we lust, or rage, or inject heroin into our veins, we can often keep it secret. You can't, however, hide 200 extra pounds. But to call yourself back from that extreme -- to face the problem and find the courage and integrity to fight it -- this is honorable. I think of it as a kind of redemption. He's let himself go, he's damaged his health, he's borne the judgment and mockery of those whose vices are not so obvious. But now he's started the long, the gruelling climb back to where he wants to be. Sensible diet, sensible exercise. Maybe he won't get all the way. But he's moving. Good on ya, mate. Godspeed.
So in that context, I don't feel overbearing, in saying a little on the subject of diet. By which I do not mean dieting, but nutriating. The idea is to look for nutrient-dense food. Some foods have lots of calories and hardly anything else. Grains, believe it or not. Mostly calories. A bit of nutrition in the bran, in the germ, but the body is just nothing but calories. Which is great, if you live in a Neolithic village. On the other hand, berries are just little nutrition troves. As I'm wont to say, I'd eat them even if they tasted like sawdust. They're that necessary. And we know, we know that some cancers are deficiency diseases. Berri berri, rickets, scurvy -- banished, because there is a vitamin to take. It's so easy. But the incidence of a certain cancer is greatly reduced among populations that eat ... potatoes. Hmm. I won't go into detail, in all this. Just hoping to get the wheels turning.
Upshot is, it is a wonderful thing, the way we turn food not just into energy, but health. Or sickness. Look up the "enteric system." [Okay, lazy bones, I'll do it for you. Here. Would you like me to cut the crust off your toast?] The whole complex digestive system. Your brain is made up of neurons. There are as many neurons associated with the enteric system as with the brain. A trillion, each. Ever wonder about butterflies in the stomach? It has to do with the neurotransmitter, serotinin. Your gut uses more serotinin than your brain. How odd. No, not just wonderful, this process. More than that.
I know all this.
Yesterday I ate a whole bag of cookies. All at once. One after the other. They were delicious. Large and moist, with chocolate chips. Delicious. So sweet and so tasty. Mmm. Vegan cookies. All natural. No sucrose. No harsh or caustic chemicals. Earth friendly, I'm sure. Today I woke up with a sore throat. A little shakey. A little snotty. Kind of weak. Took the day off. But the cookies. The cookies. They were so tasty. So sweet.
I do not regret it. I'd do it again.
Ach. Jack H. That guy. Gotta love him.
J
In the sport that I have recently come to love, there is a general interest, among the participants, in these issues. I strive to take care not to come off as Mr. Knowitall. As you will certainly understand by now, that is one of my secret identities. What can I say. It is my blessing -- it is my curse. Occasionally the question of dietary options does come up, and I have been known to volunteer my views on the subject.
There is nothing more emotional than food. It is the first comfort. We come crying from the womb, and whatever sensual pleasure there may be in the nipple, it is overwhelmed by the confounding pleasure of nourishment -- the sweet warm flow of milk, it soothes our natal tears. And when we cry as children, we are silenced with a cookie. And we have, with every Christmas memory, every Thanksgiving memory, or Halloween or Easter, the inseparable associations of food. Their smells make our mouths water. It is hospitality. It is celebration. No wedding, no birthday, without cake. Midnight ice cream, to comfort our broken hearts. Midnight pizza, when sleep won't come. Thus, a necessity is a compulsion. No wonder two thirds of Americans are overweight.
To change your diet is to change yourself. Not an easy thing to do. There's a fella I know, involved in the sport, who is really quite markedly overweight. But he has a game spirit, and deserves the encouragement that he gets. Obesity is a tough thing for a lot of reasons, but for my purposes it's tough because it speaks so publicly of a vice. We all have secret self-indulgences. They do not hang from our ribs in billowing folds, though. If we lust, or rage, or inject heroin into our veins, we can often keep it secret. You can't, however, hide 200 extra pounds. But to call yourself back from that extreme -- to face the problem and find the courage and integrity to fight it -- this is honorable. I think of it as a kind of redemption. He's let himself go, he's damaged his health, he's borne the judgment and mockery of those whose vices are not so obvious. But now he's started the long, the gruelling climb back to where he wants to be. Sensible diet, sensible exercise. Maybe he won't get all the way. But he's moving. Good on ya, mate. Godspeed.
So in that context, I don't feel overbearing, in saying a little on the subject of diet. By which I do not mean dieting, but nutriating. The idea is to look for nutrient-dense food. Some foods have lots of calories and hardly anything else. Grains, believe it or not. Mostly calories. A bit of nutrition in the bran, in the germ, but the body is just nothing but calories. Which is great, if you live in a Neolithic village. On the other hand, berries are just little nutrition troves. As I'm wont to say, I'd eat them even if they tasted like sawdust. They're that necessary. And we know, we know that some cancers are deficiency diseases. Berri berri, rickets, scurvy -- banished, because there is a vitamin to take. It's so easy. But the incidence of a certain cancer is greatly reduced among populations that eat ... potatoes. Hmm. I won't go into detail, in all this. Just hoping to get the wheels turning.
Upshot is, it is a wonderful thing, the way we turn food not just into energy, but health. Or sickness. Look up the "enteric system." [Okay, lazy bones, I'll do it for you. Here. Would you like me to cut the crust off your toast?] The whole complex digestive system. Your brain is made up of neurons. There are as many neurons associated with the enteric system as with the brain. A trillion, each. Ever wonder about butterflies in the stomach? It has to do with the neurotransmitter, serotinin. Your gut uses more serotinin than your brain. How odd. No, not just wonderful, this process. More than that.
I know all this.
Yesterday I ate a whole bag of cookies. All at once. One after the other. They were delicious. Large and moist, with chocolate chips. Delicious. So sweet and so tasty. Mmm. Vegan cookies. All natural. No sucrose. No harsh or caustic chemicals. Earth friendly, I'm sure. Today I woke up with a sore throat. A little shakey. A little snotty. Kind of weak. Took the day off. But the cookies. The cookies. They were so tasty. So sweet.
I do not regret it. I'd do it again.
Ach. Jack H. That guy. Gotta love him.
J
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
