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Don't Eat That Rodney Ohebsion I really don't understand who watches some of the shows that are on TV today. Have you seen the Food Network show where some health food snob from San Francisco just brags about what he eats? "Hi everyone. Welcome to another episode of Ethan Eats. Guess what I had for lunch today? A sandwich of kundalini kale, tomatoeless tuh--MOH-toes, goatless dairy free goat cheese from non-goats who do organic yoga, Louis C.K.'s goatee, Ralph Nader's tshirt lint, and two non-slices of slice-free quinoa bread--all on a non-plated plate-free bottle of Herbal Essences shampoo, which was on an upside down tree-free bamboo table, in an adobe building built on land owned by 100% organic, soy-free, gluten-free Nativeless Native Americans. And before I ate my scrumptious sandwich using my 100% vegan tongue, I stared at my sandwich, sniffed it, sang to it, took it on a raw, vegan walk around the table, and told it how Fox News is not news--it's a bunch of lies. Bill O'Reilly is full of baloney and gluten." Then he goes to McDonald's, and orders "a reusable rainbow fanny pack containing chickenless McNuggets, with a side of couscous fries, and a grande acai juice." And then an hour later, he makes his wife give birth in a Whole Foods Market, right between the kale and quinoa, while he recites Obama's inaugural address to her. And they name their son Barakale Oquinoa. Nowadays, Ethan's claiming the Whole Foods Market was in Honolulu--but I have proof that it was in Kenya. That's why we need to cancel Ethan's show, and impeach Obama! Have you ever eaten a nutritional weight loss bar while reading the ingredients on its wrapper? "Peanuts, sugar, milk, oil, chocolate flavoring." That's weight loss magic. You pay $2, you get 2 cents worth of ingredients, and abra cadabra--you weigh $1.98 less. It's the Harry Houdini Teeny Bikini Diet. All you gotta do is eat a case of those magic bars. And instead of checking your scale, check your bank balance. "I'm down $198. These bars are working. If I keep buying them, it's only a matter of time before I'm homeless with a 22" waist." Some people prefer paying $2 a bar to reading a 300 page, $30 diet book. Most of those books say something like, " OK. Here's how to become really thin. First take your height in inches, divide it by your weight in pounds, and

divide that by your birthday in centimeters. If you like Charlie Sheen more than Emilio Estevez, then eat two pounds of duck liver two times a day on weekdays, unlimited calling on weekends. But if you like Emilio Estevez more than Charlie Sheen, then go to Netflix and watch The Mighty Ducks 2." What about that bestselling diet book that tells you to eat right for your blood type? When you hear about that, you picture a team of genius scientists, carefully studying a mountain of data, mixing milliliters of calcium carbonate with hydrogen shockafate, de-oxyfying ribonucleic acid--and then, after years and years of hard work, Eureka!: they make a breakthrough, and a few months later, a book is out, detailing their scientifically proven way to eat the foods that are best for your specific blood type. Now here's what really happened. Some guy slapped himself in the face, soaked in a bathtub full of Hawaiian Punch, smoked some crack, and said, "OK. The blood type diet. Apples, type A, oranges, type B, mangos, type O." If you followed his book's scientifically idiotic advice and you didn't lose weight, you should sue him. For everything he's got. His bathtub, his ten gallons of Hawaiian Punch, and his twelve pints of blood. Just make sure you use a lawyer that's right for his blood type. Call up a law firm and say, "I need a type A lawyer to file a type A lawsuit against a son of A bitch." The good thing about diet books is that each one sticks with one dumb diet. For all 300 pages, it's the low carb diet, or the blood type diet, or the duck duck diet. That way, the book only kind of insults your intelligence when it tells you, "This is the best diet." Woman's World magazine takes things to the next level. Because every week the main headline is, "We finally found the one and only diet that really makes you lose weight. It's this one." They tell you that every week--as if you're supposed to just pretend their last issue didn't say the same thing. That would be like a Church telling you on Sunday, "OK. The Apocalypse is coming this Wednesday." Then you come back seven unapocalyptic days later, and the preacher walks up to the pulpit and says, "I have some very big news. The Apocalypse is coming this Wednesday. Oh--and don't forget to subscribe to our newsletter. You'll get 52 issues--and all 52 weeks, we'll tell you how we're three days away from the Apocalypse. It just so happens that this year, we're gonna be three days from the Apocalypse on 52 separate occasions." Woman's World is a just a revolving door of diet Apocalypses. None of their covers say, "Last week, we found the one and only diet that really makes you lose weight. So this week, we have no legitimate reason to even mention dieting. This issue is all about Brad Pitt, bedspreads,

and dinner parties. By the way--if you like Brad Pitt more than George Clooney, you should serve roasted duck at your dinner party." How come any time you think about dieting or nutrition, the world sends a hundred experts your way--and each of those experts points you in a different direction? "I'm the world renowned Dr. Smith, chief dietary researcher at Harvard University. And according to my 100% legitimate and conclusive research, you should eat a pound of fruit and a pint of tomato juice for breakfast. Otherwise, you'll gain a hundred pounds in two months, and then drop dead on Christmas Eve. And then on December 25th, your family will see your corpse lying there under the Christmas tree, right on top of a Tickle Me Elmo. I know what I'm talking about. Look at my diploma and my studies, and try to tell me that I'm wrong." And you think, "Well--he does have a diploma and studies." And then while you're eating a pear and drinking a V8, someone else tells you, "I'm Dr. Jones--head of nutrition at Yale University. And I have a thousand pages worth of gold standard studies proving one thing: you need to eat no fruit, a wagonful of tomato paste, and a spoonful of chia seeds, in the most delightful way. Otherwise, you'll end up in a supercalifragilistic diabetic coma, and you'll die on Groundhog's Day. Your family will see your corpse and its shadow--and they'll say, 'John's dead, and winter's over.'" And at that point you think to yourself, "OK. I can listen to Dr. Jones of Harvard, or Dr. Smith of Yale. Do I want to die in February or December?" And then as you're staring at your pear and wondering if you should eat it, someone else has to join in and say, "I lost 100 pounds, and I'm endorsed by Oprah, Angelina Jolie, and Mahatma Gandhi. That's the real gold standard. And I've proven that you should not eat fruit in a house, you should not eat gluten with a mouse, you should eat the mouse, but not with bread, eat rice instead, or you'll be fat and dead." And then later, while you're eating your bowl of rice, some other asshole comes along and says, "You need go low carb. Don't eat rice. Just eat mice. You had 67 grams of rice carbs for lunch, and 52 grams of Corn Flake carbs for breakfast. That means for dinner, you should have 400 grams of water for desert, and a main course consisting of one finger down your throat." Some people listen to expert after expert, and they become like baseball card collectors trying to complete a set. "I've been on 753 of 792 diets in existence. I have 39 more to go." After hearing so much stuff about dieting, you're able to come up with reason after reason why you shouldn't eat the food that's on your plate. Any food you see looks like a reservation for an extra extra extra large hospital room. You say, "I can't eat that. It has too much fat, carbs, and salt. Its flour is white. It's

against gay rights. It'll elevate my triglycerides, it'll modulate my rhinocerides, it'll make my gut get supersized, it'll give me double thunder thighs. It's not right for my blood type, it doesn't connect to my iPhone, it doesn't match my doorknob, it doesn't get along with my mother. It smells like teen spirit, it looks like Gene Shalit, it sounds like Vladimir Putin, it contains soy and gluten. It's hiding a voice recorder, it's toilet is out of order, it isn't certified organic, and it really doesn't trust Hispanics. I can give you 127 more reasons why I shouldn't eat this slice of pizza. But I'm eager to marry my fiancee, even though he's addicted to drugs, unwilling to hug, materialistic, imperialistic, unenergetic, anti-Semitic, and he's whiny, and has a fat heiny. I'll marry that racist fat ass Russell--but I don't want to get near Papa John or Little Caesar." A lot of diets tell you to focus on one rule. Like "All you need to do is eat raw foods," or "All you need to do is avoid carbs." You listen to that, and end up eating bunches of bananas or boatloads of bacon--because those foods fit a diet's one rule. That would be like choosing a wife based on how well she dances on a pole. And of course, then a year later, you're broke, you have an iron deficiency, and you're in divorce court, fighting over your ex-wife's collection of clear heels. Some companies make junk food that fits one of those one-rule diets. The package tell you something like "100% raw" or "low carb." Here's what happens. A food manufacturer says to its team of chefs, flavor experts, and chemists, "How can we make this product taste like it's of full of carbs, if we don't put any carbs in it?" And they're told, "What you need to do take a bunch of ingredients that have no carbs, and then soak everything for two and a half weeks in horse urine." [Company:] "Horse urine?" [Flavor experts:] "Yeah. That's the only way. We tested everything. Only two things have a carb flavor: actual carbs, and horse urine. If you want to make your food low in carbs and taste like carbs. you gotta fill if up with gallons of horsey pee-pee." [Company:] "OK. Sounds good. Johnson--order 10,000 horses and 10,000 buckets. And make sure you get horses with healthy prostates. Pretty soon, we're gonna be swimming in piss and profits." Now you know why when you're reading the list of ingredients, the fourth item is always really mysterious. "Soy protein, canola oil, coconut flakes, dibathroom horsiferous monoyellowus pissinate." Any time you come across an ingredient like that, just call up the company and ask them about it. "I was just wondering about this ingredient in your low carb toaster strudels. Dibathroom horsiferous monoyellowus pissinate. Is that horse urine?" The person will tell you, "Well, I don't know the details about that ingredient--but I know it's low in carbs." And then you'll hear a horse

neighing in the background. "Was that a horse?" [Company:] "Uh. No. That was just the sound of our clydesdalian lowcarbination machine. Um. I gotta go now. I have to feed the machine some hay." There are thousands of diets out there--and people have lost weight on all of them. And almost all of that weight has been regained by those people pretty quickly. Sometimes a few people try a diet, some of those people lose weight, they recommend the diet to others, some of those new people go on the diet, some of them lose weight, the cycle continues--and five years later, ten million people have bought the book, read about Charlie Sheen and Emilio Estevez, and tried the blood type duck liver grapefruit cabbage soup horse urine diet-but almost nobody has actually lost weight and then kept it off for long by actually following that diet. It's a Ponzi scheme. All diet gurus should be in a jail cell next to Bernie Madoff. How come when someone's not overweight, he thinks that all an overweight person needs to do is flick a switch to eat less, lose weight, and keep it off. He never even bothers considering how an overweight person has an overactive appetite. He says, "Bobby. I was just thinking. You know how you're really fat and I'm really smart? Well now I'm gonna do you a favor and use my smartness to deal with your fatness. Here's what it comes down to. You know how you eat food and then eat more food? Well, my brilliant advice is for you to eat food and then not eat more food. Yeah. Here's my brilliant formula. 'E equals MC eat-less-food squared.' OK? Now your switch is flipped. You're welcome." Sometimes a fat person gives you weight loss advice. The best thing to do is tell him, "Well, thank you for that. That sounds pretty good. But just to run a little double check, I'm also gonna get a second opinion from someone who's under 300 pounds and two chins. Yeah. Before I go with your ideas on carbs and coconut oil, I want to hear what Mr. One Chin has to say. And I'm not talking about a fat Asian guy named Wun Chin. I'm talking about someone who actually has one chin." Did you know that when a woman fills out a form to renew her drivers license, the people working at the DMV make an in-her-dreams adjustment? "She weighs 120 pounds? In her dreams! Let's switch the first two digits, and put down 210." In the old days, people didn't even want to be thin. Most of them wanted to put on a little extra weight. Women actually got mad at their husbands for not saying, "It looks like you've gained a few pounds, honey. Now you have a fat gut to go with your pretty face--you freakin' cow. I'm a very lucky man."

And if you told your wife, "It looks like you've lost a few pounds," she'd say, "Yeah! That's 'cause we don't have enough food--you broke, lazy son of a bitch. If you had a good job, my ass would be the size of the Grand Canyon." But these days, thinness is glamorous. Too glamorous. A few days ago, I was outside of a bar with a friend of mine who's lost 100 pounds over the last year and a half. She got into some sort of heated argument with another woman-and at one point, the other woman got so mad, that she told my friend, "Go fuck yourself, you skinny bitch!" Then my friend's face lit up. And she said, "Do you mean it? Do you really think I'm a skinnybitch?" The other woman was like, "Uh--what the hell are you talking about, you freaking lunatic?" And my friend replied, "I'm a skinny lunatic. Don't forget the skinny part." Then later, my friend told me, "This is the best day of my life." I was like, "You got married nine months ago." And she said, "This is the best day of my life! At my wedding, John said 'I love you' and 'I do'--but he never called me a skinny bitch. And the minister didn't say, 'Do you, John, take this skinny bitch to be your lawfully wedded wife?'" Women have really weird rituals in response to other women who've become skinny. On one hand, they pretty much throw a parade for a woman like that, where they sing about how she has a 22 inch waist and no fat on her face. But of course, there's also a second event for a woman who's lost weight. A secret event she's not invited to. A hundred women get together, and they all say, "I hate that skinny bitch! We should take her 22 inch belt, and wrap it around her anorexic neck." When women are talking and they mention how they're hungry, they don't eat. Eating is the old custom. In the oldentimes of like the 1970s, when women were hungry, they had this bizarre habit of eating. But the new custom is for them to say, "You're hungry? High five. Good. You're getting there. You're on your way to being a skinny bitch. Listen to your body. That feeling of hunger is your body telling you that you should continue being hungry and eating ice cubes." They even say that to their five year old daughters. And they tell them, "You're hungry? I'm so proud of you. Drink some more water juice. If you drink water juice, you'll be thin like Elmo; but if you drink apple juice, you'll be fat like Big Bird and Snuffleupagus. Now get down on the floor and do some Sesame Street yoga." This is the first era in human history where women want to hear "Have you lost weight?" way more than they want to hear "I love you." Maybe it's even better to tell them, "I love how you've lost weight. I love your weight loss.

You're OK too, I guess. But the fact that you've lost 30 pounds is the love of my life. Negative 30 pounds, will you marry me?" I think Justin Bieber should put out a song telling the listener how thin she is. "Baby you're so thin / I can see your ribs / Sticking out your dress / All women want your skinniness / I can hear your stomach growl / Love all hundred seven pounds / Of you baby, head to toe / When you eat--nobody knows." By the way, I have a good treatment for anorexia. Roommates. Yeah. We should make every anorexic woman live with a 300 pound roommate. Now hear me out. Anorexia simply cannot survive within a ten yard radius of plus sized woman. Because no matter how anorexic a 100 pound girl is, she won't have what it takes to say to her 300 pound roommate, "Let me ask you something. This is really important. How fat do I look in these size negative four jeans? I ate so much yesterday. Remember when you were sitting on that sofa eating an entire pack of cheese, and I had a half a slice after doing two hours of yoga? I am a total pig. Oink oink oink. Look at my waist. It's almost as wide as your thigh. My thigh to your waist ratio is way too high." Yeah--that'll lead to a 300 pound punch in the face. When it comes to weight loss, most women have lost their damn minds, The other day, I heard one woman telling another one, "If you want to lose weight, here's the important thing: winning the psychological game. What you nned to do is use two mantras. When you're hungry, just think to yourself, 'Nothing tastes as good as being thin feels.' And then when you're half-starved and you pass out, just think to yourself, 'Being thin feels way better than being conscious.'" How come men aren't allowed to discuss dieting tips the way women do? Imagine two guys talking about dieting at their college fraternity. Then some other frat guy comes in the room and says, "Are you guys sharing dieting tips?" And one of them replies, "No--we were just talking about... hookers. And beer. Beer and hookers." "I thought I heard you say something about dieting." "No. Just hookers and beer. As usual."

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