Attack of the 50-foot chocolate sundae, coming to a digestive system near you
I love ice cream.
come hither - back off
Ice cream rocks my world. There is nothing quite so refreshing to the human spirit as sitting down in front of the television set to watch a silly movie with a pint of Baileys Irish Cream Häagen-Dazs to help it all go down smooth.
But wait! What's this? No, you don't say! It turns out that ice cream is - *gasp* - bad for you! Who knew?
Why is it considered newsworthy to report on the blatantly obvious? What's more, why do readers of said news act so surprised? Let's examine this more closely, shall we?
The product is called "ice cream". Note the second word, "cream". Cream is a substance milked from the dugs of a dairy cow, a substance known to be, surprisingly enough, creamy. What makes it creamy? Why, fat. No! Really? Why yes. It's all fat. Fat is what generally makes any foodstuff creamy.
At least, it was until we human beings recently started coming up with new-and-improved cream-inducing fat-faking pseudo foodstuffs, foodstuffs that make you think what you eat is creamy, but in fact there's nothing creamy about it. Be warned about pseudo foodstuffs: always eat them in the vicinity of a toilet. Said man-made fat-faking foodstuffs are completely ignored by the human digestive system, and so sliiiiiiiide out the ol' rectal canal untouched. Mmm, all the taste with twice the loose bowel movements.
It's rather silly, really. When I see public service announcements or news bits itemizing the hazards of something like smoking, for example, I find it both funny and annoying, both for the same reason. Those who create these ads or write this news must, in fact, think that the rest of the human race is completely moronic. I don't know, call me crazy, but I just thought that 30 years of constant media bombardment informing people that smoking is bad for them, along with emblazoning onto Canadian cigarette packs pictures of diseased lungs with ominous black labels that read "if you smoke a cigarette, your head will implode immediately" has likely clued all of us in to the fact that smoking is bad for us. Do these people think that when a smoker lights a cigarette and takes a puff, that person honestly doesn't know it's bad for their health? They spent the morning coughing up half a lung; trust me, they know.
I'm a former smoker. I quit cold turkey just under 2 years ago. I have not, however, quit Häagen-Dazs. In both cases, appealing to one's logic will never have much effect, because the acts of smoking a cigarette, scooping out the last of the icy fat goodness, gobbling half a pizza, drinking that bottle of cheap gin, popping that peyote button, or shooting up that heroin do not have their appeal in logic. All that yummy goodness in the world that is so very bad for all of us has a deathgrip on our gonads. That is, it targets instinct.
Instinct is called instinct because it's instinctual. This may seem obvious, but that doesn't seem to stop individuals from jumping onto their soapbox to speak of all the ills that yummy goodnesses contain. We know. Trust me, we know. We just don't care. If it feels good, do it. That's what our cerebrum is screaming at us. Do it! DOOOOO IT! NOWNOWNOWNOWNOW!
Logic doesn't stand a chance.
We're doomed to be a world of wobbly fat people, until we eat ourselves into starvation, of course. In the battle between hormones and rational thought, instinct and logic, hormones and instinct have gone almost undefeated for millennia. So I suggest this: whenever you see one of those commercials on television or read one of those public service billboards, whenever some self-righteous self-appointed national hallway monitor comes up to you, snatches your cigarette / twinkie / spliff / sandwich / syringe from your hand, and orates about shunning temptation, you go right ahead and have that extra slice of pizza! Inhale those Oreos! Jump in the public fountain yelling "OOOGAOOGAOOGAWUMP!", pull out your Anti-Stress Boob while asking the boss for a raise and start kneading frantically, masturbate on street corners, order the extra large buttered popcorn, and finally look the sermonizer right in the eye and say, "Oh my goodness, you mean that's bad for me?"
Sure, it's bad for us. We know that. That's part of what makes it so good.
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