Daily Rant
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Daily Rant
after reading a few articles, I thought they were funny, to the point, and well written. If you have a daily rant, post it.
Dig in: America is one big fat piggy
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C. Brooks Kurtz
Columnist
A recent study by a firm that does studies like this says that one-third of all U.S. adults are obese. This, of course, will come as a complete shock to absolutely nobody who does not live in Los Angeles.
Personally, as a man whose girth has grown considerably since high school but has somehow avoided the obesity trap, this does not surprise me either.
Although I have bouts of doing nothing other than going to the dump and shooting rats, I’m an extremely active person (never mind the fact that I am one of few people who use the term “summit” when having to climb more than three flights of stairs).
If you will recall, Wednesday I wrote about the two bimbos who wouldn’t haul themselves out of their yacht to avoid walking more than 15 feet. For me, they represent why America has an obesity problem.
The Greeks treasured moderation in all its forms. As a rule, they drank, but not too much; they worshiped, but not too much; they slept around, but not too much. As Lloyd Bentsen would say if Dan Quayle were standing in front of him: “I know the Greeks, Senator, and you’re no Greek.”
The amount of tubbies, chubbies and disgusting fat-bodies in this nation is alarming, something that grows only more alarming when varied women’s group throw out numbers like “every girl in the free world has an eating disorder.” I guess the disorder is they don’t know when to pass on the third tub of buttered ice cream of the evening after Johnny has broken her heart.
However, men are worse than women in my book. I see tons – pun intended — of fat guys. The difference, of course, is that although the health problems are about equal, fat guys are funny while fat girls are sort of wall-flowerish and depressing (over-generalizing in the worst possible way, of course; for me to talk about another’s weight is the fat calling the kettle fat).
American eating disorders and general obesity began with, you guessed it, women’s lib (follow me here, I’m not as big a pig as that just made me sound).
When armies of women began joining the workplace, eating out and carrying out were no longer reserved for Saturday night.
As two parents began going to work, there was nobody to cook a well-balanced, scrumptious meal when it was time to come home.
This also coincided with the revolution known as “television having more than three channels.” Now, instead of kids going out to play basketball or skip rope, they plopped down in front of the Zenith to either A: fantasize about Farrah Fawcett or B: sit down with a good ol’ game of Pong.
So, what you have is mom busting 40 hours a week, dad doing the same, picking up a bucket of deep-fried chicken with some soda pop and throwing it into the middle of the den, yelling “dig in little piggies!”
Add to that the escalating divorce rate and you have a nation of children who have been fed under arches, who have eaten with the colonel, who have headed for the border and have been sold out by their selfish parents and escorted into what is known as the hell of weighing more than 150 pounds in the fourth grade, not to mention the hell that is Type II Diabetes.
But how can the parents worry about the kids when their asses are getting bigger than the Suburban upon which they sit them each day to go out and make a living while the kids eat the stuffing out of the couches because the only food left in the house is the color green, namely celery, broccoli and beans. What kid’s gonna eat that?
Doomsday-ers of the women’s movement, those who came up with crackpot theories of why women earning a living was a bad idea, missed the boat; they should have appealed to our national vanity and forecasted the legions of followers of Zach the 90-pound baby.
But don’t get too excited, fatty. The women’s movement can be thanked and blamed for a lot of stuff, but the fact is nothing is going to drive down weight like healthy diets and exercise. Ask your doctor, she’ll tell you the same thing. And for God’s sake, quit super-sizing!
God, my belly’s big!
Ciao.
Dig in: America is one big fat piggy
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
C. Brooks Kurtz
Columnist
A recent study by a firm that does studies like this says that one-third of all U.S. adults are obese. This, of course, will come as a complete shock to absolutely nobody who does not live in Los Angeles.
Personally, as a man whose girth has grown considerably since high school but has somehow avoided the obesity trap, this does not surprise me either.
Although I have bouts of doing nothing other than going to the dump and shooting rats, I’m an extremely active person (never mind the fact that I am one of few people who use the term “summit” when having to climb more than three flights of stairs).
If you will recall, Wednesday I wrote about the two bimbos who wouldn’t haul themselves out of their yacht to avoid walking more than 15 feet. For me, they represent why America has an obesity problem.
The Greeks treasured moderation in all its forms. As a rule, they drank, but not too much; they worshiped, but not too much; they slept around, but not too much. As Lloyd Bentsen would say if Dan Quayle were standing in front of him: “I know the Greeks, Senator, and you’re no Greek.”
The amount of tubbies, chubbies and disgusting fat-bodies in this nation is alarming, something that grows only more alarming when varied women’s group throw out numbers like “every girl in the free world has an eating disorder.” I guess the disorder is they don’t know when to pass on the third tub of buttered ice cream of the evening after Johnny has broken her heart.
However, men are worse than women in my book. I see tons – pun intended — of fat guys. The difference, of course, is that although the health problems are about equal, fat guys are funny while fat girls are sort of wall-flowerish and depressing (over-generalizing in the worst possible way, of course; for me to talk about another’s weight is the fat calling the kettle fat).
American eating disorders and general obesity began with, you guessed it, women’s lib (follow me here, I’m not as big a pig as that just made me sound).
When armies of women began joining the workplace, eating out and carrying out were no longer reserved for Saturday night.
As two parents began going to work, there was nobody to cook a well-balanced, scrumptious meal when it was time to come home.
This also coincided with the revolution known as “television having more than three channels.” Now, instead of kids going out to play basketball or skip rope, they plopped down in front of the Zenith to either A: fantasize about Farrah Fawcett or B: sit down with a good ol’ game of Pong.
So, what you have is mom busting 40 hours a week, dad doing the same, picking up a bucket of deep-fried chicken with some soda pop and throwing it into the middle of the den, yelling “dig in little piggies!”
Add to that the escalating divorce rate and you have a nation of children who have been fed under arches, who have eaten with the colonel, who have headed for the border and have been sold out by their selfish parents and escorted into what is known as the hell of weighing more than 150 pounds in the fourth grade, not to mention the hell that is Type II Diabetes.
But how can the parents worry about the kids when their asses are getting bigger than the Suburban upon which they sit them each day to go out and make a living while the kids eat the stuffing out of the couches because the only food left in the house is the color green, namely celery, broccoli and beans. What kid’s gonna eat that?
Doomsday-ers of the women’s movement, those who came up with crackpot theories of why women earning a living was a bad idea, missed the boat; they should have appealed to our national vanity and forecasted the legions of followers of Zach the 90-pound baby.
But don’t get too excited, fatty. The women’s movement can be thanked and blamed for a lot of stuff, but the fact is nothing is going to drive down weight like healthy diets and exercise. Ask your doctor, she’ll tell you the same thing. And for God’s sake, quit super-sizing!
God, my belly’s big!
Ciao.
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Senior Member
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C. Brooks Kurtz
Columnist
On occasion, I like to write about stupid people.
There are various kinds of stupid people and no doubt, many of you would put me in one of these categories.
There are people who are stupid simply because they don’t know any better — we call these people Democrats. Then there are people who are stupid because they know better but they just can’t help it — these people are called Republicans.
Then there are the people who aren’t stupid but they do stupid things — these care called college students. Finally, there are the people who are stupid because they are so friggin’ lazy.
Laziness is today’s topic. Laziness, like religious fanaticism and people who drink directly out of the familial milk carton, is pure evil.
This came about on Sunday. I had to go to Wal-Mart to get a new phone because the one I bought last month ceased to ring or to take messages, two vital functions for the ugly hunk of plastic which nested on my already over-cluttered desk.
I’m a pro at man-shopping. I park in the back, keep my sunglasses on to avoid eye contact with anyone who might know me, I speed-walk, I get my stuff, get in, get out, get home. It’s like robbing a bank, except I don’t carry a gun, I pay for my goods and services and I’m not in jail.
Basically, I hate everyone who breaks any of these rules (I suppose in my perfect Wal-Mart, it would be full of Ray-Ban-and-Presto-clad speed freaks making synchronized turns while filling their baskets — no, they’d carry everything in their hands, for there would be no baskets in the perfect world — with no more than 20 items, thus eliminating the need for non-express lanes).
So I’ve parked in the very back as I always do, and I’m speed-walking up to the store.
Well, sitting there in a Ford Valdez is a girl who looked about 22 years old, her friend riding shotgun. I pass a woman who is pushing a cart to the cart corral and is obviously parked in one of the coveted Front Three Spots, the Ark of the Covenant for lazy people.
So two perfectly healthy looking girls — both of whom are on their phones, of course, and surrounded by the cozy confines of their $89,000 truck, which they no doubt earned and deserved — are blocking traffic waiting for a woman to push her cart to the other end of the lot and then come back, get in her car, start it and leave, so these two cretins won’t have to walk an extra 20 feet (girls who are no doubt on the phone talking to their boyfriends about how fat they feel, to drive the Nail of Irony into the Wall of the Obvious with the Hammer of Stupidity).
What is wrong with you people? Why, oh why, must you sit for five minutes waiting for a spot that is literally a 10-second walk from the next-closest spot?
On my way out, I actually timed it because I was so peeved about the observation. Walking from the front spot they were waiting for to the very back spot — and there were several available that were much closer — took 14 seconds.
Fourteen seconds.
When the weather is awful, I can understand it. But it was a perfectly beautiful day, with a slight breeze, temperature in the 60’s, clear as a bell. Hell, there was a freakin’ bluebird on my shoulder.
These girls — and they’re not alone, as most of you reading this would rather do 10 laps around the lot than park in the back half of the lot — did not look like the type of people who were into saving 14 seconds, and they instead wasted two minutes or so of their time and God knows how much for the people behind them.
If you are anything like these two girls, I hate you the way Palestinians and Israelis hate each other.
If you are no over the age of 50, if you don’t have a handicap permit dangling from your mirror or if you just haven’t suffered a career-ending knee injury, you should be ashamed of yourself for parking in the front, much less holding up traffic because the dream of someone else leaving the front has overtaken you.
I wish the Stillwater PD would go out to Wal-Mart and hand out subpoenas and citations that must be cashed in at the Court of Stupidity, a heaven on Earth at which I am the judge, jury and smiling executioner. I hate you people.
Ciao.
Columnist
On occasion, I like to write about stupid people.
There are various kinds of stupid people and no doubt, many of you would put me in one of these categories.
There are people who are stupid simply because they don’t know any better — we call these people Democrats. Then there are people who are stupid because they know better but they just can’t help it — these people are called Republicans.
Then there are the people who aren’t stupid but they do stupid things — these care called college students. Finally, there are the people who are stupid because they are so friggin’ lazy.
Laziness is today’s topic. Laziness, like religious fanaticism and people who drink directly out of the familial milk carton, is pure evil.
This came about on Sunday. I had to go to Wal-Mart to get a new phone because the one I bought last month ceased to ring or to take messages, two vital functions for the ugly hunk of plastic which nested on my already over-cluttered desk.
I’m a pro at man-shopping. I park in the back, keep my sunglasses on to avoid eye contact with anyone who might know me, I speed-walk, I get my stuff, get in, get out, get home. It’s like robbing a bank, except I don’t carry a gun, I pay for my goods and services and I’m not in jail.
Basically, I hate everyone who breaks any of these rules (I suppose in my perfect Wal-Mart, it would be full of Ray-Ban-and-Presto-clad speed freaks making synchronized turns while filling their baskets — no, they’d carry everything in their hands, for there would be no baskets in the perfect world — with no more than 20 items, thus eliminating the need for non-express lanes).
So I’ve parked in the very back as I always do, and I’m speed-walking up to the store.
Well, sitting there in a Ford Valdez is a girl who looked about 22 years old, her friend riding shotgun. I pass a woman who is pushing a cart to the cart corral and is obviously parked in one of the coveted Front Three Spots, the Ark of the Covenant for lazy people.
So two perfectly healthy looking girls — both of whom are on their phones, of course, and surrounded by the cozy confines of their $89,000 truck, which they no doubt earned and deserved — are blocking traffic waiting for a woman to push her cart to the other end of the lot and then come back, get in her car, start it and leave, so these two cretins won’t have to walk an extra 20 feet (girls who are no doubt on the phone talking to their boyfriends about how fat they feel, to drive the Nail of Irony into the Wall of the Obvious with the Hammer of Stupidity).
What is wrong with you people? Why, oh why, must you sit for five minutes waiting for a spot that is literally a 10-second walk from the next-closest spot?
On my way out, I actually timed it because I was so peeved about the observation. Walking from the front spot they were waiting for to the very back spot — and there were several available that were much closer — took 14 seconds.
Fourteen seconds.
When the weather is awful, I can understand it. But it was a perfectly beautiful day, with a slight breeze, temperature in the 60’s, clear as a bell. Hell, there was a freakin’ bluebird on my shoulder.
These girls — and they’re not alone, as most of you reading this would rather do 10 laps around the lot than park in the back half of the lot — did not look like the type of people who were into saving 14 seconds, and they instead wasted two minutes or so of their time and God knows how much for the people behind them.
If you are anything like these two girls, I hate you the way Palestinians and Israelis hate each other.
If you are no over the age of 50, if you don’t have a handicap permit dangling from your mirror or if you just haven’t suffered a career-ending knee injury, you should be ashamed of yourself for parking in the front, much less holding up traffic because the dream of someone else leaving the front has overtaken you.
I wish the Stillwater PD would go out to Wal-Mart and hand out subpoenas and citations that must be cashed in at the Court of Stupidity, a heaven on Earth at which I am the judge, jury and smiling executioner. I hate you people.
Ciao.
Senior Member
Joined: Oct 2001
Posts: 221
Likes: 0
From: MN
That columnist is an A$$. I have rarely read anything that he has written that does not somehow rub me the wrong way. I like some of the things that he has to say in the second column posted but the first one has no redeeming value.
I'm 6'1" and weigh 350. Alot is muscle but still I am a rather big boy and Im not ashamed to admit it. But what this guy implies is that it is completely my fault because I must be lazy and eat a ton of food. Neither of which are true. As a college student and farmer eating is the last thing on my mind.
Most days I dont even get breakfast, if I do its a banana or apple on my way out the door at 6:30 a.m. Lunch generally consists of a sandwich or two, lean lunch meat with a thin layer of mayo, no cheese, and some fruit or veggies. Dinner isnt too much different, especially since I am usually still out working. If I am home Im treated to a well balanced home cooked meal. Going out to eat is a once a week deal that I treat my fiancee' and myself to. Occasionally during the week I will snack on some chips or something sweet, but as I said it is occasionally, 1-3 times a week. The only other thing that goes into my body is diet pop (cant stand the regular sweet crap) or water.
As for my activity level, I usually put in 18+ hour days. Many of which are on my feet working. Yeah I spend time sitting in class, and lately I spend long days in the combine, but there are many other days throughout the year that I am fixing equipment, moving 100+ 50-60 lb seed bags per day, shoveling grain, and other labor intensive work. In the wintertime I work at the college, clearing snow, cleaning and maintaining buildings. I also work there during other slow times of the year for farming. I do all the mowing, 75% of which is on my feet with the push mower or weed whacker, pulling weeds, spraying weeds, trimming trees, edging sidewalks, and picking up trash on the grounds and in parking lots.
A few years back when I was in high school my dad had other help on the farm so I owned a lawn service. I had 25 customers that I handled by myself, only getting help from a friend when the weather didnt cooperate and I was backed up. Last winter I also had a job with the local school district cleaning the junior high. My area had 25 classrooms, an office area for 5 special ed teachers, plus 2 student and 1 staff bathroom. It was a 4 hour a day job but the school only had money for it to be a 3 hour a day position. I literally had to run to get the job done in time.
I cant explain why I weigh what I do, short of starving myself I dont know what I could do differently. As far as Im concerned this is my body type, Im in shape and have no problems working. But other people who look at me would think like this guy. So tell me...am I the stereotypical fat, lazy, Oreo popping slob that this columnist would assume that I am?
Bottom Line: Dont assume that just because someone is "overweight" that they are just a lazy over-eating slob. Thats not always the case.
Rant: Off
I'm 6'1" and weigh 350. Alot is muscle but still I am a rather big boy and Im not ashamed to admit it. But what this guy implies is that it is completely my fault because I must be lazy and eat a ton of food. Neither of which are true. As a college student and farmer eating is the last thing on my mind.
Most days I dont even get breakfast, if I do its a banana or apple on my way out the door at 6:30 a.m. Lunch generally consists of a sandwich or two, lean lunch meat with a thin layer of mayo, no cheese, and some fruit or veggies. Dinner isnt too much different, especially since I am usually still out working. If I am home Im treated to a well balanced home cooked meal. Going out to eat is a once a week deal that I treat my fiancee' and myself to. Occasionally during the week I will snack on some chips or something sweet, but as I said it is occasionally, 1-3 times a week. The only other thing that goes into my body is diet pop (cant stand the regular sweet crap) or water.
As for my activity level, I usually put in 18+ hour days. Many of which are on my feet working. Yeah I spend time sitting in class, and lately I spend long days in the combine, but there are many other days throughout the year that I am fixing equipment, moving 100+ 50-60 lb seed bags per day, shoveling grain, and other labor intensive work. In the wintertime I work at the college, clearing snow, cleaning and maintaining buildings. I also work there during other slow times of the year for farming. I do all the mowing, 75% of which is on my feet with the push mower or weed whacker, pulling weeds, spraying weeds, trimming trees, edging sidewalks, and picking up trash on the grounds and in parking lots.
A few years back when I was in high school my dad had other help on the farm so I owned a lawn service. I had 25 customers that I handled by myself, only getting help from a friend when the weather didnt cooperate and I was backed up. Last winter I also had a job with the local school district cleaning the junior high. My area had 25 classrooms, an office area for 5 special ed teachers, plus 2 student and 1 staff bathroom. It was a 4 hour a day job but the school only had money for it to be a 3 hour a day position. I literally had to run to get the job done in time.
I cant explain why I weigh what I do, short of starving myself I dont know what I could do differently. As far as Im concerned this is my body type, Im in shape and have no problems working. But other people who look at me would think like this guy. So tell me...am I the stereotypical fat, lazy, Oreo popping slob that this columnist would assume that I am?
Bottom Line: Dont assume that just because someone is "overweight" that they are just a lazy over-eating slob. Thats not always the case.
Rant: Off