Today sees the emergence of another report about which foods are bad for you and in the spotlight this time are ‘Ultra-processed foods’.
‘What the fuck are ultra-processed foods?!’ you might ask. I did. ‘Are they chicken nuggets, thrown into a blender and then reformed into chicken nuggets again?’ Actually, chicken nuggets are on the list (I should research before starting to write these rants not during) but it also includes crisps, chocolate, cake, fizzy drinks, ready-made meals and anything that is mostly made of sugar, oil or fats…basically, it’s as if they’ve looked at my diet and decided to use that as the template.
The short of it is if you eat anything on the list, which also includes bread, which I forgot to mention, you’re 100% going to get the big ‘C’. Constipation. Sorry, that was a shit joke, I obviously mean cancer; you are 100% going to get cancer.
Except you’re not.
This is another one of those reports that are leaked out of a shed or laboratory or lavatory somewhere and been leapt upon by the media. Here’s a quote from the BBC website appertaining to this report: ‘A lot of caution is being expressed about the study but experts said a healthy diet is best’. Get the fuck out of here, really? A healthy diet is best? Christ, I’m going to have to stop eating raw chicken and marbles. A healthy diet is best, hey; who knew?
I’m not going to jump on the speeding train of ‘false news’ too many are starting to scream that about anything they disagree with but can’t we at least get some finished news instead of some half-baked opinion of toe-rags with a card stuffed in the brim of their hat emblazoned with the word ‘PRESS’? (A 1940’s film reference to newspaper hacks for those too young to understand that…or probably because they’ve eaten too many chicken nuggets sprinkled with sugar and washed down with a Coke – other poisons sold as soft drinks are available – gumming up their brains to make the connection.)
A fact of life is…brace yourselves and put on your big girl/boy pants…you are going to die. There, it’s out there. I feel so much better. Whatever you do, at some point in the next 500 years (I’ve gone big just in case Elon Musk comes up with something out of left field; Martian DNA or something) you are going to die. But get this, it might not be cancer. I know it’s a popular one and few of us can say we haven’t been devastated by that prime bastard of all maladies but there are many ways to shuffle off this mortal coil as there are people who can recite ‘The Parrot Sketch’…possibly more.
Maybe Paul Simon could write a song about it. ‘50 ways to leave your blubber’…I struggled for a long time with that and I’m pretty sure it wasn’t worth it. That’s half-an-hour of my life I’m not getting back, add that to all the crisps and chocolate I eat and I should be dead by Wednesday week.
Where was I? Oh yeah, you’re going to die…have I stressed that enough yet in a comedy rant? Hit by a bus. Heart attack. Heart attack during sex…just to put the image of a grinning corpse in your head. Disease. Fire. Drowning. Blood poisoning because you picked your nose with a dirty fingernail. Genetic disposition. The list is endless, which is a bit cheeky for a list about the ultimate end. (I understand it might not be the ultimate end but I’m not venturing into an afterlife scenario in this rant, maybe another time. The big question raised by that is are crisps bad for you if you eat them on a cloud whilst playing the harp?)
I come from a male line that has a habit of not making it to pension age (which is scaring the bejesus out of me more and more on my birthdays but on the other hand I haven’t got a pension so 1-0 to me I reckon) and I’m sure most of them didn’t live on crisps and French Fancies on toast. Whatever we do, we’re all going to die…sorry, said it again.
It’s always sad when someone dies, to someone. Some deaths even affect more than those in their immediate circle and there are those deaths that just seem bloody unfair to everyone with an even mental keel. Unlike taxes, despite the famous saying, you can’t avoid it. Having said that, I wonder if Starbucks is going to live forever? So it’s going to happen and there’s nothing you can do about it.
What can be done around it is a cessation of these half-baked scare stories that are shoved down our throats at regular intervals. Isn’t stress one of the big killers? How the fuck can stressing people out about their diet or whatever new health theory is being banged on about be good for the longevity of people?
Here’s my half-ass thought through tuppence worth to the debate of how to live a pleasant life. You are going to die, whatever you do. (Last time, promise.) Eat what you like, drink what you like, do what you like. Be happy and strive to stay happy. Don’t dick about like a…dick and be considerate of other people. And don’t… don’t take everything that is presented to you at face value because behind the veil of horror is some bloke with feck all better to do than stopping you getting back to Kansas and happiness. Anger can be good too, keeps you on your toes and maybe you’ll live longer out of sheer bloody-mindedness. (That’s anger at situations, not individuals, the latter can lead to an abrupt shortening of life.)
Now that’s off my chest, I’m going for a pint and a family pack of Doritos all to myself. If I’m not here in the morning, due to additive overdose, I’ll take all of this back. (Offer void if I’m hit by a bus.)
Point of irony. How much ‘lifetime’ did you waste reading this half-baked theory? Best sue me quickly, I’ll be gone soon.