Will this finally be my new fucking diet?

Will this finally be my new fucking diet?

http://www.mybreakthrough.com/clientuploads/unrestricted_pdfs/anibolic.pdf

Seriously, what will it take for me to eat food that my body actually LIKES?

And what is the process that has me eating and managing myself in such --- wait a minit. 

THAT is it! NOT myself, my BODY. If I can drive a mental wedge between the two, then the pleasure that I get from mainlining RBF solutions while fighting gravity by way of sofa in front of Big Fucking Television might look different. 

See, it should be easy. I make fun of vegans and people that are picky about their food because they are such easy narcissistic targets.

But I am such a stereotype. 

Burnout, divorced asshole slob. Putting on ten to twenty ounces per year until verticality is impossible for more than an hour or two a day. Overly impressed with self and skills of same. Detached and unimpressed, therefore, by advice from outside sources. 

Twenty marathons does not fit into the picture so easily, though, but it is true. When people express amazement, I always say something like, "Oh no. You could TOTALLY do one. It is just a decision that you make. The running is nothing. Once you believe you can, it is almost done." And it is true. 

When I was even fatter and drunk, no one saw me run except to catch the Korean liquor store before closing. But I got lured in by a chick, and now twenty years later and chickless, I have a running sort of life. By that I mean that I did two marathons in the last eight months (LA and Long Beach -- both seven hours plus). I am not winning or doing PBs, but I AM finishing. People close to me bet against me and express amazement that I finish. Not me. I KNOW I can. 

They keep hurting more, and pain is not quite beating out stupid for attention, 

Here is a streamlined version of Caveman Diet: http://www.mybreakthrough.com/clientuploads/unrestricted_pdfs/anibolic.pdf


(more later, hopefully)

DD



Will this finally be my new fucking diet?

Prop 37 lives -- notes

Prop 37 Lives On

You are an organic farmer in Wisconsin, working hard to bring in your crop after a hot. dry summer. Fall has been a little wetter, but still this, your third year organic has been rough. The bank has been amenable so far, but you are way behind. It is three months since the credit accounts have balanced and the mortgage paid up to current.  One tractor is badly in need of maintenance. The other is up on blocks. The harvest crew account is zero, so the bulk of the work the next three weeks of harvest will fall on you, your wife and family friends as you bring in your bounty of leaf crops and herbs. Years of commitment to purifying your land and meeting the criteria required by your state and county to put that big O label on your produce. It is a tense time. You are perched on the threshold of disaster.

You return from a morning in town meeting with your lawyer to find your entire 10 acre field destroyed. Ruined kale and collard greens are strewn like dachow corpses. Trucks and machinery are scattered across the small field. Already some are making their way past you back to the highway. You have only begun to take in the nightmare scene when a group engages you. A well-shod, burly man is flanked by two guards in coveralls and clean, expensive hiking boots. He draws near, approaching you on foot, his two reinforcers half a step behind on either side. Walking straight towards you on your own driveway, he puts one hand up, prison-guard-like, in the universal gesture of : "stay right where you fucking are." No smile. No hurry. Authority and entitlement embodied. You think briefly of gunning the car and running him down.

You glance at your wife, who is reaching to open her door, but doesn't, quite. "Wait. We will find out more very quickly," is the unstated message in the air. You watch the man stride up to your driver door, alone, but watched closely by the men in the bulky coveralls.

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For dozens of organic farmers not living and working in Oregon and Washington, this has become a nightmare and in some cases, a devastating reality.

Efforts to grow and sell organic, non-GMO produce have been met with harsh responses from powerful and in many cases, armed agents of the food industry.

Why do we feel powerless? If we just inform ourselves and then withhold purchase of contaminated products, all will be well, right?

Prop 37 was an effort to "force" food sellers to label products containing Genetically Modified Organisms
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Reading and Link list

Organic Consumers Org.
http://www.organicconsumers.org/articles/article_26620.cfm

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Genetically_modified_organism

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Genetically_modified_food

Korea in Cerritos

Oh, loyal readers can hear that other Adida drop here: I found the Korean restaurant to replace Soot Bull Jeep from Koreatown off Western.

The place I found is on Pioneer off of South street, just east of the 605, but I can't remember their name! Oh well, too bad for you. I am feasting there tonight and will update with contact drool information to follow.

Commander out