People: Docs Selling Crap
Since the medical and education professions have been able to make sexual identity, sexual equality and revisionist history more important than education and being a kid, they have moved on to switching back and forth between arguments that our nation's children don't have enough to eat, are eating too little, have too much to eat and are overeating. Kinda like the Chicken Littles arguing that the planet is too hot, too cold and never just right.
Now they're attacking Tony the Tiger and Michael Phelps.
Breakfast of a champion? Frosted Flakes! Phelps signs with cereal
"I would not consider Frosted Flakes the food of an Olympian," said nutritionist Rebecca Solomon of Mount Sinai Medical Center.
"I would rather see him promoting Fiber One. I would rather see him promoting oatmeal. I would even rather see him promoting Cheerios."
...
Still, in a country where childhood obesity is an alarming issue, Phelps' iconic image sharing space with Tony the Tiger sends the wrong message, experts say.
"For a guy like Michael Phelps who isn't worried about obesity because he's burning thousands of calories as an athlete...eating Corn Flakes and Frosted Flakes every so often is not an issue," Solomon said.
Phelps is not doing the Olympian thing? Like they'd know what an Olympian could and should do.
Why not quit screwing with their make work formulas and tell the kids to get up, get out and play?
May I suggest tag and dodge ball?
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
August 20th Is here Again
Liberals, progressives and socialists are planning their Democratic convention. Russia has invaded another country to squash any hope of true democracy. Members of the convention, just as in Russia and with other communist sympathizers, are blaming America first and foremost for baiting the Russian bear.
Nixon or Bush? Czechoslovakia or Georgia? Both. 1968 is back, but this time the democrats have a planning commission called Recreate 68 and they are just as traitorous and stupid.
McCarthy and Humphrey were battling for the nomination by the Democratic party. One openly wanted to appease the Soviets while the other wanted to walk a thin line trying to unite the anti-freedom and traditional wings of the party by quietly hoping to eviscerate the American military and our country's hope of lessening war through the spread of freedom and prosperity. Obama and Clinton. ibid.
Open and quiet sympathizers of communism were not directly confronted by the media, but were celebrated as agents of change. ibid.
The Democrat Party held up Humphrey, McCarthy, Muskie, McGovern, Bond and Ted Kennedy as agents for that change. Obviously, little has changed in the Democrat Party.
Nixon or Bush? Czechoslovakia or Georgia? Both. 1968 is back, but this time the democrats have a planning commission called Recreate 68 and they are just as traitorous and stupid.
McCarthy and Humphrey were battling for the nomination by the Democratic party. One openly wanted to appease the Soviets while the other wanted to walk a thin line trying to unite the anti-freedom and traditional wings of the party by quietly hoping to eviscerate the American military and our country's hope of lessening war through the spread of freedom and prosperity. Obama and Clinton. ibid.
Open and quiet sympathizers of communism were not directly confronted by the media, but were celebrated as agents of change. ibid.
The Democrat Party held up Humphrey, McCarthy, Muskie, McGovern, Bond and Ted Kennedy as agents for that change. Obviously, little has changed in the Democrat Party.
New Life
After scads of emails, actually a few, concerning where I have been I decided to share about where I have been, being absent, from this blog. Unfortunately, it does not involve forgotten weekends across the border nor anything remotely about lotteries.
My family is a large one. With many sisters, many nieces and nephews and even more of their children, there are many lives of many differences. One of my sister's children has had a hard life of which we were kept in the dark until that life had affected her children. Badly.
As families do when they are real family, we discussed what to do, not how to tut-tut and reprimand, but to take action to assist. Our part in this drama involving the magnificence of life has been to welcome into our home a wonderful, but storm tossed 14 year old who has seen the wrong side of Yuma and life.
It is sad, but at the same time delightful to watch her realize that she doesn't have to fight for food. It is frustrating, but natural to stem the tide of attitude born of fear as she realizes her room is her room and will not be taken away nor will she "move" once again because mommy needs to find work. As it was with our now 24 and 26 year olds, it is the little things that are the signposts of moving forward, treading water or drowning. Our 24 year old son has been indispensable in being a listening post and her supporter, quietly encouraging her that this isn't a temporary station offering stability which will be snatched away at the first hint of discord.
It has been humorous to watch her interact with my wife's Italian family. Soon after arrival we were off to the beach for a week to celebrate my father-in-law's birthday with no number. In a quiet talk on the beach I found that this was her first vacation and that she felt guilty for it. She felt guilty for the piles of food, the laughter, the constant hugging and the fact that we had not just one, but two houses looking out over the Atlantic that were ours alone to enjoy.
The little things we take for granted softened that guilt as she silently watched the prayers before each meal, one fisherman son gently chiding the CEO son for being a cheapskate, a grandmother sharing her crossword puzzle with a grandchild snugly explaining the purpose and the meaning of words, the unending waves begging to be ridden and the whole cast directed by the ghost of a now gone 4' 10" giant of a woman who brought, shaped and ruled a family into being Americans. Thank God this ghost didn't have time to teach this new family member how to play cards because I have never even come close to beating one of them in any game domestic or foreign.
That's where we have been and am now. Thank God for it, but how do I explain that, yes, Ireland is over the horizon on the far side of the Atlantic? She thinks I am making that up.
My family is a large one. With many sisters, many nieces and nephews and even more of their children, there are many lives of many differences. One of my sister's children has had a hard life of which we were kept in the dark until that life had affected her children. Badly.
As families do when they are real family, we discussed what to do, not how to tut-tut and reprimand, but to take action to assist. Our part in this drama involving the magnificence of life has been to welcome into our home a wonderful, but storm tossed 14 year old who has seen the wrong side of Yuma and life.
It is sad, but at the same time delightful to watch her realize that she doesn't have to fight for food. It is frustrating, but natural to stem the tide of attitude born of fear as she realizes her room is her room and will not be taken away nor will she "move" once again because mommy needs to find work. As it was with our now 24 and 26 year olds, it is the little things that are the signposts of moving forward, treading water or drowning. Our 24 year old son has been indispensable in being a listening post and her supporter, quietly encouraging her that this isn't a temporary station offering stability which will be snatched away at the first hint of discord.
It has been humorous to watch her interact with my wife's Italian family. Soon after arrival we were off to the beach for a week to celebrate my father-in-law's birthday with no number. In a quiet talk on the beach I found that this was her first vacation and that she felt guilty for it. She felt guilty for the piles of food, the laughter, the constant hugging and the fact that we had not just one, but two houses looking out over the Atlantic that were ours alone to enjoy.
The little things we take for granted softened that guilt as she silently watched the prayers before each meal, one fisherman son gently chiding the CEO son for being a cheapskate, a grandmother sharing her crossword puzzle with a grandchild snugly explaining the purpose and the meaning of words, the unending waves begging to be ridden and the whole cast directed by the ghost of a now gone 4' 10" giant of a woman who brought, shaped and ruled a family into being Americans. Thank God this ghost didn't have time to teach this new family member how to play cards because I have never even come close to beating one of them in any game domestic or foreign.
That's where we have been and am now. Thank God for it, but how do I explain that, yes, Ireland is over the horizon on the far side of the Atlantic? She thinks I am making that up.
An American Rube In America
I love the comment below about John Edwards, his love child and the necessary avoidance, and later justification, of his personal life made public, ala Gary Hart, by John Edwards.
Here's how this seedy little Democrat soap opera is going to play out long term. It's going to be a remake of The Duke and Duchess of Windsor as performed by the Clampetts.
Bubblin' crude, black gold, milkin' dead children, ignoring live children. Makes no difference.
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