Our internet connection went down early yesterday and we just got it back this morning, after the Comcast technician decided we needed a new cable modem.  Our phones also go through the modem, so it was a day of a silence … no internet, no phone calls.  Just as well, since I’m in the middle of a software project and need to focus on it for a few days.

So if you’re wondering why there was no post last night and why I’ve been slow to approve comments, that’s why.

I finally read The Vegetarian Myth over my winter break.  I know I’m more than a little late joining the party — the book has been out for some time and received quite a few reviews — but I’m going to add my review to the mix anyway, for one simple reason:  It’s one of the best books I’ve ever read, and I want you to read it too, if you haven’t already.

Lierre Keith is an extraordinarily talented writer.  I enjoy some authors because they’re diligent researchers and fill their pages with facts I didn’t already know — Gary Taubes immediately comes to mind.  I enjoy other authors for the logical, persuasive arguments they make on controversial issues — Thomas Sowell is one of my favorites in that arena.  Still others, like Tom Robbins, are simply a pleasure to read, thanks to the grace and beauty of their prose.

As I read this book, I soon realized that Keith is all three:  a tenacious researcher who can dig up the facts, arrange them into coherent arguments, and fold them into sentences that are pure brain-candy for anyone who loves words.  (Okay, she wouldn’t eat candy and neither do I, but you get the idea.)

If you’ve spent any time debating vegetarians, you know the supposed superiority of a meat-free existence boils down to three main beliefs:  it’s immoral to kill in order to eat, we must all give up meat to save the planet, and giving up animal products will improve your health.  Keith refers to these as the Vegetarian Myths, and during her decades as a dedicated vegan, she believed them.  But in this book, she destroys them one by one — by offering what she calls adult knowledge.  Knowledge, after all, is the reason adults don’t believe in the Easter Bunny.  As Keith puts it: “What separates me from vegetarians isn’t ethics or commitment.  It’s information.”

And the information is rich indeed.  In part one, Moral Vegetarians, she dispenses with the “killing animals is immoral” myth.  I found this section particularly enlightening, because I long ago conceded the point that vegetarians don’t kill to eat.  Okay, Mr. Granola, my food involves killing animals and yours doesn’t.  Good for you.  It so happens I don’t believe it’s immoral to kill an animal for food, especially since I’m healthier now, but if you feel morally superior ordering a soy burger, be my guest.

Turns out I was wrong to concede even that much.  As Keith writes:

The moral argument is the clarion call that rallies most vegetarians to the cause.  It’s what kept me unable to examine or even question my vegan diet, despite all the evidence that my health was failing.  I wanted to believe that my life – my physical existence – was possible without killing.  It’s not.  No life is.

She then explains why living without killing is impossible, beginning with a fascinating, detailed description of the cycle of life … and “cycle” is the crucial concept.  There is no food chain, with humans sitting at the top.  We are members of a food cycle, with all of us eating each other.  As Keith explains, even the soil is alive, with literally millions of organisms in each tablespoon.  Take the animals out of the equation — along with the urine, feces, blood and bone that the soil “eats” — and the soil will die.

Keith discovered this for herself when she decided to grow her own food.  She soon learned that her soil required nitrogen, and discovered to her horror that she had two choices:  natural nitrogen — mostly blood meal and bone meal — or synthetic nitrogen made from fossil fuels …  another form of dead animals.  As she reluctantly concluded, “My garden wanted to eat animals, even if I didn’t.”

Her garden gave her further fits when she realized she had to stop the bugs from eating the plants she planned to eat herself.  Chemical pesticides were obviously out, so she looked into “natural” pesticides — which she learned rip the guts out of the bugs.  She finally elected to keep some chickens that would eat the bugs instead.  Yes, she knew was simply outsourcing the killing to the chickens, and yes, she struggled with the double-standard.  Her personal odyssey, sprinkled throughout the pages, is at times equally funny and sad.

Much of the Moral Vegetarians section describes the killing fields of mono-crop agriculture.  Never mind the countless critters shredded by farm machinery.  That’s just the tip of the iceberg.  The real damage occurs earlier in the process.  To create those sprawling acres of wheat, corn, and soybeans, prairies and forests that were home to millions of animals are destroyed, taking the animals down with them.  Rivers are dammed, killing all the animals who depended on them.  That soy burger Mr. Granola chews so smugly requires at least as many deaths as my steak, if not more.

And as Keith explains in section two, Political Vegetarians, eating soy burgers won’t save the planet, either.  All those goofy vegetarian arguments about how many more people we could feed per acre if we all ate the crops instead of the animals who eat the crops are based on a flawed idea: that the animals who provide our meat are supposed to eat corn.  They’re not.  They’re supposed to eat grass.  Keith recalculates the calories-per-acare figures assuming we were smart enough to raise our animals on their natural food, and not surprisingly, the disparity shrinks to nearly zero.

And feeding the masses is only part of the equation.  When you raise animals in a pasture, you create topsoil — you literally can’t create topsoil without animals.  But when you raise corn, you destroy topsoil.  It’s mono-crop agriculture that uses extraordinary amounts of water and creates soil runoff.  Then, of course, there’s all that fossil fuel required to keep the crops growing as the topsoil disappears.  (Imagine the fun of explaining to your wild-eyed vegan friends that their “sustainable lifestyle” is enriching the oil industry.)

To make matters worse, our federal farm subsidies have created huge grain cartels and made our crops irresistibly cheap, destroying local farming around the globe.  Keith recounts this in detail.  But because of where she lays the blame, I’m going to pause and raise the couple of minor quibbles I have with an otherwise outstanding piece of work.

She is apparently hostile towards capitalism.  As a libertarian whose definition of capitalism is “keep the @#$%ing government out of it,” I agree that farm subsidies are an outrage.  But that’s not capitalism; it’s socialism.  The huge farm subsidies that spawned mono-crop agriculture and the grain cartels were the work of FDR, the hero of the “Progressive” movement.  As the old farmer told the filmmakers in King Corn, “You couldn’t make any money growing corn without the government payments.”  Duh.  Take the socialist federal handouts away, and much of the mono-crop agriculture will go with it.  So will the cheap corn we feed to cattle.

My other minor quibble is Keith’s interjections of feminism (some have called it male-bashing) into the narrative. I don’t see any reason for it, other than the fact that she considers herself a radical feminist and felt a need to express some feminist ideas. As she points out herself, brutality and patriarchy existed in plenty of hunter-gather societies.  And most of the radical, “meat is murder!” granola-chomping vegetarians I’ve met have been women who consider themselves feminists.  Maybe I’m missing something here.  But again, these are minor quibbles.

In part three, Nutritional Vegetarians, Keith recounts how her vegan diet destroyed her health.  I’m sorry to say much of the damage is permanent.  Her spine has degenerated, and it won’t come back.  She spends much of her life in pain.  I’m also sorry to say I know some vegetarians with ailments similar to hers, but unlike Keith, they refuse to connect the dots.

Now, 20 years too late, Keith has done the research.  Some of the information in this section will be familiar to readers of this blog, but it’s presented in great detail and, of course, beautifully written.  She describes how our digestive systems work … which would be pretty much like the digestive system of a meat-eating animal, not an herbivore.  She explains the biochemistry of the physical damage caused by eating grains and soy.  She knows this topic well, since she lives with the damage every day.

And of course, she now recognizes the many benefits of eating animal fat, as well as the shoddiness of the “research” that concluded animal fats will clog our arteries and kill us.  She craved animal fat during her vegan days, but rarely allowed herself to eat it.  When she did, she felt simultaneously renewed physically and tortured with guilt for giving in.  She describes the depression, the fatigue, the “vegan rage,” and the chronic forgetfulness that plagued her and her vegan friends.  And of course, none of them could admit that perhaps their diets had something to do with it.

At least she’s admitting it now, in a book sincerely I hope becomes a best-seller.  I could post literally hundreds of delightful quotes from this book, but it’s getting late, and like I said, I hope you’ll read the whole thing.  So I’ll close with this one:

Listen to your body, reader, a listening that must make your body known to you, less mysterious and more beloved.  The listening is hard.  You will have to hear past the propaganda of the agriculturalists, both the corrupt and the righteous.  You will also have to listen past the cravings those foods produce:  the addiction to opioids and intense sweeteners, the biological emergencies of blood sugar swings.  And you will have to accept “the soft animal of your body,” as poet Mary Oliver so sweetly says, not punish it.

Told ya she could write.

January 1, 1995

It’s a new year, and by the end of it I’m going to have a new and improved body! I’ve decided I’m going to lose 25 pounds this year. That’s only a couple of pounds per month, so it’s not a tall order. I can do this. Just limit myself to maybe 1800 calories and no more than 30 grams of fat. To that end, I went to the store today and stocked up on Lean Cuisine meals. If I only have low-fat meals in the fridge, It’ll be easier to stay disciplined.

January 2, 1995

Okay, I want to know what idiot decided to label Lean Cuisines as “meals.” I ended up eating three of them for dinner. I tried to get by on one, but an hour later I was famished. Maybe these things are made for women … well, really small women. Anyway, I felt okay for awhile after the second one, but an hour later I was starting to get pretty light-headed, so I had a third. I also had a fourth one around midnight, but I’d kind of planned on including a snack in the diet plan, so I guess that’s okay. At least I kept the fat grams down for the day. I’m sure my appetite will adjust if I just grit it out for a couple of days. Glad it’s only the second day of the year.

January 9, 1995

I have GOT to stop being such an undisciplined slob! I forgot it was Mitch’s birthday this week, and course the skinny little bastard insisted we go to La Canasta. Easy for him; the guy eats more than I do and ever gains an ounce. (Plus I swear every time a hair disappears off my head, it ends up on his.) I was going to just order a salad and have maybe three or four chips with salsa, but once I started tasting the chips, you’d think I hadn’t eaten in weeks.

After the waiter brought us another basket of chips, I figured if I’m paying for a birthday dinner, I’m not going to sit there and watch Mitch stuff himself while I chew on lettuce, so I had the full burrito combo platter (only about a million grams of fat!) and a couple of beers. I also had a small jar of peanuts around midnight — yeah, like burritos don’t have enough calories in them. No more. I’m glad it’s still early in the year. If I lose just under three pounds per month, I can still make my goal.

January 20, 1995

I don’t @#$%ing believe this! Lean Cuisines and Budget Gourmets and Weight Watchers meals for a solid week, and I weigh exactly the same! I swear I didn’t go over 1800 calories all week. I’m hungry as hell, I didn’t cheat, and I’ve got exactly nothing to show for it.

Time for a new plan: 1700 calories per day, and longer sessions on the treadmill. Less fat, too. I picked up some Grape Nuts for breakfast. The turkey sausage is lower in fat than the porky stuff, but it’s still a little on the fatty side.

January 22, 1995

Okay, I want to know what idiot decided a “serving” of Grape Nuts is half a cup. Does anyone eat half a cup of this stuff? Two bites and I’m done. I could eat a doggie biscuit and feel more satisfied. I ended up licking the bowl this morning to get the last drops of milk. I don’t really like skim milk, but I sprinkled some Sweet N Low into the cereal, so at least it had a little flavor. Well, just have to stick with it. Like they say, nothing tastes as good as thin feels.

January 31, 1995

Exactly what kind of moron resolves to lose 25 pounds and then eats an entire pizza? And I did such a good job on the diet all day; all I had to do was go to bed without eating again! They had a big bowl of fruit at the commercial shoot, so I just had an apple and a banana for breakfast, with some soy milk in my coffee. A turkey sandwich from the craft services cart for lunch — mustard, no mayo, and I even threw away the cheese. A Healthy Choice Sweet ‘n’ Sour Chicken for dinner. That’s it. I was at maybe 1100 calories for the day, trying to make up for yesterday. Just don’t eat again, and you can call it a successful day.

But then as I was watching Forrest Gump (great flick!) on the VCR, it’s like this little demon appears on my shoulder and says, “Look, it was a long shoot, you were on your feet all day, you deserve a treat, one little pizza isn’t going to kill you.” So I pick up the phone to order a small pizza. Guy from Giordano’s asks what size, and the demon says, “You know, you get a lot more for your money if you order the large, so just eat maybe a third of it and then freeze the rest. You can do it.” Yeah, like hell I can. NO MORE PIZZA! I turn into a total pig when I’m around that stuff.

February 3, 1995

I don’t think the frozen pizzas from the store have as many calories as the ones they make at Giordano’s. The cheese looked a little thin on top so I added some extra slices of mozzarella before baking it, but it still wasn’t exactly thick. Same size around, but it’s the thickness that counts. Anyway, I think I can get away with having one of them on the weekend as long as I tighten up the diet the rest of the week. Tomorrow I’m going to just have a Slim-Fast for breakfast and lunch, maybe a skinless chicken breast for dinner.

February 4, 1995

Okay, I want to know what idiot decided a can of Slim-Fast qualifies as a “meal replacement.” Maybe if you poured it over a big bowl of Cheerios. I swear I was hungrier an hour after drinking the stupid thing than when I woke up. Lucille saw me through the window of the training center around 11:00 and came in to ask if I was okay. She said I looked kind of shaky. I ended up taking an early lunch and had some lo mein from Chan’s in the food court. That was stupid — there’s a ton of grease in their brown sauce.

February 14, 1995

I @#$%ing hate Valentine’s Day. Maybe if I lost a few pounds, I’d feel more like asking someone for a date. Fat and balding — hey, there’s a great combo for you. Maybe I should move in with my parents, too, just go for the whole package. Then I’d be a total chick magnet.

March 1, 1995

Okay, enough already. Two months gone, and I’m up two pounds. I should’ve been down at least five by now. At least it’s looking like a long winter, so I can keep covering up with the big sweaters for awhile. But summer is going to get here, like it or not, so it’s back to the diet and NO MORE CHEATING.

March 7, 1995

Pretty good week. It’s been a hassle getting to the gym, and I don’t like signing up for a treadmill and then waiting around while some goof pretends he didn’t see the “30 Minute Limit” sign, so I bought an electric treadmill! It kind of cramps the apartment, but what the heck, it’s not like I throw a lot of dinner parties in here.

Anyway, instead of sitting on the sofa and watching TV, I’ve been watching while walking, using a pretty steep incline. I also really stuck to the low-fat diet this week and limited my snacks to some microwave popcorn with non-fat butter spray. This is finally working. I feel GREAT.

March 27, 1995

I don’t how in the hell I could be depressed right now. I finally lost a pound and a half, so you’d think I’d have something to cheer about. Well, it’s been a long winter. Probably just a seasonal thing.

June 18, 1995

Next time I go to Wrigley field, I am NOT DRINKING ANY BEER, and I don’t care if everyone else is. All it does is kick my appetite (for beer and food) into overdrive. When those “nachos” they serve start to taste good, you know something’s wrong. Then of course Mitch decided we should go to La Canasta for dinner. At least their nachos are real. It was fun, but that’s enough. I’ve already gained back most of the six pounds, and the year is practically half over.

September 19, 1995

The new bits about gaining weight when you hit 35 went over pretty well, especially in the early show — more people my age. Maybe I should just give up, gain another 50 pounds, become another “funny fat guy” comedian. Naw, not worth it. I don’t want to be one of those guys people talk about in the past tense … “Yeah, he was funny. Too bad he died.” Okay, I’ll get back on the diet, and no cheating this time, at least until my birthday.

November 15, 1995

I should know better than to step on the scale the day after my birthday. I’m 37 years old and at least 25 pounds overweight, maybe 30 pounds. Some birthday present. If this keeps up, I’ll be a blob by the time I’m 50.

January 4, 2010

Chareva made big almond-crusted pork chops for dinner. Awesome. We couldn’t finish them, so looks like I’ve got lunch for tomorrow.

Sara, of course, trimmed the fat off the end and ate that first. She wanted to play chess after dinner, but I told her I have to write tonight. She squeezed a promise out of me to play tomorrow. She also informed me she doesn’t mind when I tell her if she’s making a good move or a bad move, but she doesn’t want me to tell her exactly which moves to make to beat me. Fair enough. The way her mind works, I’d better rack up a string of victories while I still can.

Fat Heads keeping themselves amused on New Year's Day.