Who farted?

During the day I am surrounded by a mish-mash of white liberals among whom is represented the full spectrum of food and environmental allergies known to man. I don't know what it is about being white and liberal that makes one a weakling, unable to eat peanuts, wheat, dairy, and sugar, but man... there must be something there.

As I write I am drinking a smoothie, usually one of my most favorite activities, in honor of a coworker who is finishing her 152nd year working for the company. The smoothie I grabbed is called "Mango Mania" which initially excited me until I took my first big mouthful and noticed something was wrong. It was grainy, without flavor, had an inconsistent texture... whatever could be the matter? Then I saw it, inked on the side: "Non-dairy: Soy"

SOY.

I felt violated, dirty even. Like I'd been cuffed by a Birkenstock wearing patchouli drinker and made to listen to a 2-hour lecture on globalization and corporate elitism. Why soy? The smoothie was called "Mango Mania" which I assumed meant mashed up mangos, sugar, and a little apple juice.

I was so shaken up by the whole affair that I went back to get a different one. The woman managing the smoothie table saw me eyeing the wares and spoke up, "We only have a couple non-dairy smoothies left, the rest have... milk products." The way she said "milk products" was the way a good white person says the 'N-word' amongst proper company, hushed and under her breath. How can a supposed food allergy that only affects a tiny percentage of people plague nearly 75% of these folks? What gives?

I think that we've reached a point in our social evolution where we don't really have anything to worry about anymore; the lions are kept at bay, dental problems no longer kill us in our 20s, and our wars occur in far-away lands. This leaves us free to invent all types of funny little problems to keep us busy.

Think about the next person you meet who has a collection of food allergies, really think about them. Smell the Purrell, look at their pale skin, stay away from their sick looking unvaccinated kids and know this: their world is one of mystery and danger, chemicals permeate their food and air, they have big ideas but little buy-in. They voted for Obama and their Volvo is low on gas. Know them, know them well, and then cut a wide swath around them.

Acupuncture: people will believe anything

Heres a tip for dealing with your liberal white friends: if you'd like to convince them of the efficacy of a practice tie it to the mystical land of Asia. Liberals will buy into ANY health practice as long as it comes from the orient, and can be represented with Chinese characters. Bonus points are awarded if the practice is thousands of years old because surely anything thats been around forever must be true!

A recent article posted in the "Archives of Internal Medicine" describes the results of a double-blind study comparing the effectiveness of 'expertly' applied acupuncture with proper needles to acupuncture with randomly applied toothpicks. I'm pleased to see that the media has picked up on the study even though the findings, that acupuncture is no more effective than randomly being poked with toothpicks, isn't surprising.

Though cynical by nature I am still endlessly surprised at the types of quackery people will throw their money at in the name of health, as if the human body was some kind of mysterious entity that must be assuaged by magic. If I was smart I would have gotten involved with the whole organic-wholistic-alternative health movement a longtime ago and would be raking in the big bucks now. But no, I had to work in science. TONS of money in that decision...

Not so bad really

I've got my suspension locked out and my weight out over the front bars; I'm riding hard making stop lights, skirting the morning zombies trudging into coffee shops and monstrous garbage collecting trucks attempting to block my way. Its raining hard, so hard that my mouth half ajar from physical exertion is acting as a kind of water catchment system. Soon I'm on the coastal road, greeted with views of the bay and its islands held captive within a voluminous grey blanket of cloud and rain. I've decided that the strong greens and greys of spring are not a bad mix; experience has changed my mind, or perhaps nostalgia did the trick. Some of my best rides have been colored in grey and green, my best memories.