I haven’t exactly been a posting machine these past few months, but nonetheless it’s time for me to call it a year. I need to make tracks on the film version of Fat Head Kids, plus I’ve got my annual end-of-the-year project (a DVD of family memories) to start soon. Jimmy and Christine Moore will be popping in for a few days as well. Weather permitting, we’ll get in a few rounds of disc golf. I haven’t had a disc in my hands since a couple of weeks before the surgery and I already feel a bit weaker from the lack of exercise, so this may be Jimmy’s chance to kick my butt out there.
Anyway, I’ll see you again in 2018. In the meantime, here’s a holiday post I wrote some years ago. Relative newcomers probably haven’t seen it. I wish you all a wonderful holiday season.
————————————-
Twas the night before statins, and all through the land
Our lipids were lethal, as we’d soon understand.
Our eggs were all stacked in the fridge with great care
In hopes they’d be scrambled, or fried if we dare.
The children were calm and well-fed in their beds,
While visions of sausages danced in their heads.
The dads, mostly lean, and wives often thinner
Had just settled down for a porterhouse dinner.
When out in the world there arose such a clatter,
They sprang from their plates to see what was the matter,
And what on the cover of TIME should appear,
But an arrogant scientist, peddling fear.
Cheers and belief from an ignorant press
Gave a luster of truth to the new, biased mess.
So away to the doctor we flew in a pack,
In hopes of a plan to end heart attacks.
He was dressed in all white from his neck to his butt
(which conveniently hid the size of his gut).
He sat us all down for a well-meaning chat:
“More carbohydrates — avoid all that fat!”
So sugars and starches we passed through our lips,
Only to wear them on bellies and hips.
Our hearts with their plaques continued to swell,
We grew diabetic and weren’t feeling well.
The doctor announced it was likely our fault —
We were, after all, still eating salt.
“But there’s no other option,” he said with shrug,
And pulled out his pad to prescribe some new drugs.
“Now Crestor! Now Zocor! Then Lipitor next!
Now Lipex! Now Lescol, and best take Plavix!
To the depths of the liver! To the artery wall!
Force it down, force it down, foul cholesterol!”
Our appetites crazed, we soon looked like blimps.
Our children lost focus, our manhood went limp.
The doctor examined joints now wracked with pain
And concluded the patients were old or insane.
He chose Celebrex for muscles that ache,
And added Cialis to the drugs we should take.
“Now stick to your diet, and be of good cheer,
If this doesn’t work, I’ll do lap-band next year!”
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This poem left me full of laughter and glee.
Now I shall have pickerel, fried in ghee.
Don’t forget the garlic. Happy holidays to you and yours.
Garlic to keep away the statins? They should be dead by now, but they keep coming back. To be sure drive a steak through their heart.
Many thanks for all your wise, instructive and entertaining posts, Tom! Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!
And to you as well.
This poem left me full of laughter and glee.
Now I shall have pickerel, fried in ghee.
Don’t forget the garlic. Happy holidays to you and yours.
Thanks, you as well!
Garlic to keep away the statins? They should be dead by now, but they keep coming back. To be sure drive a steak through their heart.
Many thanks for all your wise, instructive and entertaining posts, Tom! Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!
And to you as well.
Hi Tom,
I finally looked up your website after finishing your FatHead Kids book months ago, am a new fan of FH pizza, and reading your older posts. I am pleased to hear the movie is coming along and am anticipating sharing it with my kids. Glad to hear your shoulder is on the mend. Great poem, too! Merry Christmas to you and all your girls!
Thank you. Merry Christmas to you and yours.
All the best to you and your family! Don’t overdo it with the disc golf.
The poem is lovely.
Only two round of disc golf so far. I refuse to post scores this year.
Hi Tom,
I finally looked up your website after finishing your FatHead Kids book months ago, am a new fan of FH pizza, and reading your older posts. I am pleased to hear the movie is coming along and am anticipating sharing it with my kids. Glad to hear your shoulder is on the mend. Great poem, too! Merry Christmas to you and all your girls!
Thank you. Merry Christmas to you and yours.
All the best to you and your family! Don’t overdo it with the disc golf.
The poem is lovely.
Only two round of disc golf so far. I refuse to post scores this year.
Dear Fat Head – They go well with Ketchup – here is my preferred recipe for “Ketchup Cake” http://allrecipes.com/recipe/217814/great-canadian-heinz-ketchup-cake/
Oh. My. Goodness.
Hello Tom,
Good news for you. You turned out to be right all along 🙂 Morgan Spurlock admitted to being a degenerate sexual harasser and an alcoholic. Important to note that in his apology, he says that he “hasn’t gone a week without drinking in 30 years”. This is huge. Even if he did quit during the 30 days of Super Size Me (which would make the previous quote a lie), then his liver most certainly looked like a shriveled raisen, completely throwing off any of the blood tests he got. His doctor in the documentary even says that his liver looks like that of an alcoholic. If he was drinking during the documentary, the amount of calories added alone destroys the whole McDonald’s experiment that he was doing. His entire documentary should be discounted as a fraud. McDonald’s should sue him out of existence. This prick is the reason that I can no longer get Super Sized French Fries. He drove his wife from a vegan to a meat eater, and she divorced him. He is a handle bar mustache piece of garbage with a weird butt/stance.
You win 🙂 Smile homie 🙂
Yup, first thing occurred to me was the scene where his doctor blamed his bad liver numbers on eating all that fatty food.
Their fries aren’t very good now anyway. They need to start frying in tallow again — then I’ll clamor for supersizing to come back.
All of Hollywood’s disgusting. I’m to the point of thinking that decent men can’t get a toehold because they’re not sexually exploitative scum. It’s like a gross frat where the hazing consists of sexually abusing women and/or children. Ronan Farrow’s been talking about this for a long time.
But did Spurlock drive his wife to becoming a meat eater? I gathered from her blog that she simply felt terrible, health-wise, and that her body was screaming for meat so badly that she couldn’t keep hurting it with a vegan diet. Nothing to do with Spurlock.
And the alcohol may have provided the gap between what he said he was eating and the number of calories he reported. Alcohol the fourth macro nutrient.
Dear Fat Head – They go well with Ketchup – here is my preferred recipe for “Ketchup Cake” http://allrecipes.com/recipe/217814/great-canadian-heinz-ketchup-cake/
Oh. My. Goodness.
Hello Tom,
Good news for you. You turned out to be right all along 🙂 Morgan Spurlock admitted to being a degenerate sexual harasser and an alcoholic. Important to note that in his apology, he says that he “hasn’t gone a week without drinking in 30 years”. This is huge. Even if he did quit during the 30 days of Super Size Me (which would make the previous quote a lie), then his liver most certainly looked like a shriveled raisen, completely throwing off any of the blood tests he got. His doctor in the documentary even says that his liver looks like that of an alcoholic. If he was drinking during the documentary, the amount of calories added alone destroys the whole McDonald’s experiment that he was doing. His entire documentary should be discounted as a fraud. McDonald’s should sue him out of existence. This prick is the reason that I can no longer get Super Sized French Fries. He drove his wife from a vegan to a meat eater, and she divorced him. He is a handle bar mustache piece of garbage with a weird butt/stance.
You win 🙂 Smile homie 🙂
Yup, first thing occurred to me was the scene where his doctor blamed his bad liver numbers on eating all that fatty food.
Their fries aren’t very good now anyway. They need to start frying in tallow again — then I’ll clamor for supersizing to come back.
All of Hollywood’s disgusting. I’m to the point of thinking that decent men can’t get a toehold because they’re not sexually exploitative scum. It’s like a gross frat where the hazing consists of sexually abusing women and/or children. Ronan Farrow’s been talking about this for a long time.
But did Spurlock drive his wife to becoming a meat eater? I gathered from her blog that she simply felt terrible, health-wise, and that her body was screaming for meat so badly that she couldn’t keep hurting it with a vegan diet. Nothing to do with Spurlock.
And the alcohol may have provided the gap between what he said he was eating and the number of calories he reported. Alcohol the fourth macro nutrient.
Hahahahaha
Season’s Greetings to y’all. I’m about to watch the migration of the pheasant out of the freezer into the oven, and then into me, wrapped in bacon, surrounded by Brussels sprouts and chestnuts. Or post-Brexit do we have to call them Freedom sprouts?
Just call them delicious.
Hahahahaha
Season’s Greetings to y’all. I’m about to watch the migration of the pheasant out of the freezer into the oven, and then into me, wrapped in bacon, surrounded by Brussels sprouts and chestnuts. Or post-Brexit do we have to call them Freedom sprouts?
Just call them delicious.
What a great and authentic poem! Congratulations, you deserve a lot of applause!
What a great and authentic poem! Congratulations, you deserve a lot of applause!
Merry Christmas! Steaks for us tonight, ham tomorrow, and plenty of butter and cream. This might be the first Christmas of my life I don’t overdose on sugar because, thanks to my current diet, I simply don’t want much of it any more.
Merry Christmas! Steaks for us tonight, ham tomorrow, and plenty of butter and cream. This might be the first Christmas of my life I don’t overdose on sugar because, thanks to my current diet, I simply don’t want much of it any more.
I love this poem! A year ago I was diagnosed as diabetic so did a bunch of research and started LCHF. Six months later went back to doctor and my numbers were of course great. The doctor and I were the only ones in the room but he lowered his voice like it was a secret and said I should try low carbs…medium protein…and high fat. I laughed and told him that was what I was doing. After talking a bit he said he thought I knew more about this than he did. The only disagreement was his idea of healthy fats and mine were different since I eat only saturated fats. I think the message is starting to make headway.
I meant to say “pre-diabetic” not diabetic. I am in the normal range now.
Indeed it is. Doctors have to lower their voices because LCHF isn’t the standard of care yet.
I love this poem! A year ago I was diagnosed as diabetic so did a bunch of research and started LCHF. Six months later went back to doctor and my numbers were of course great. The doctor and I were the only ones in the room but he lowered his voice like it was a secret and said I should try low carbs…medium protein…and high fat. I laughed and told him that was what I was doing. After talking a bit he said he thought I knew more about this than he did. The only disagreement was his idea of healthy fats and mine were different since I eat only saturated fats. I think the message is starting to make headway.
I meant to say “pre-diabetic” not diabetic. I am in the normal range now.
Indeed it is. Doctors have to lower their voices because LCHF isn’t the standard of care yet.
“Night Before Statins” — wasn’t that a Moody Blues song?
I played that song while in a band in my 20s, but never made the connection.
“Night Before Statins” — wasn’t that a Moody Blues song?
I played that song while in a band in my 20s, but never made the connection.