Ex-NPR-reporter Juan Williams gets himself fired for revealing his deepest anxieties on Fox News.
Let me start by saying this: Juan Williams is a fool – not because he should have been embarrassed by his unreasonable fear, nor by his honesty regarding an uncomfortable subject, but because he of all people should have understood that what is most important in America is appearance… the appearance of calm acceptance and unwavering surety. What is not most important is the appearance of honesty and integrity in news media… which is why NPR is on the way out.
Vivian Schiller, former CEO of NPR.
At least Vivian is. This, thanks to her permissive nature. She allowed exec Ron Schiller (not related, but also headed out) to make defamatory remarks (on a camera hidden by Nazi conservative activist James O’Keefe) about the up-and-coming Tea Party.
Well, Ron, I think it’s pretty clear that the Tea Party is primarily peopled by “racists and xenophobes”. The thing is, we only call it racism in America if it involves the blatant humiliation and abuse of someone who is visibly different… and if it’s caught on camera… and if someone else is involved — someone other than us. That’s one of our God-given rights as Americans, to call other people names and pretend like our own behavior is beyond reproach. It’s called the first amendment, Baby.
Racist James at the big racist party, where a bunch of rich racists got together and called other people out on their racism.
And for the record, James O’Keefe is a racist too.
I love pizza. No shit. I really dig it. I am sitting at Hotlips on Broadway in Portland, Oregon at this very moment, digesting a cheese slice and sipping on a Laurelwood IPA. Nothing could make me happier — except maybe more pizza and more beer (and maybe a little heavy petting in the dark, or in the light — whichever). My point is this: Pizza = bliss.
Or, at least, it used to.
See, last night Rosie and I were debating purchasing a frozen pizza. We prefer fresh pizza, as any sentient being does, but dough is tight (that’s not a pizza pun) and we stand to save a few bucks by walking the freezer aisle.
(Wait, wait, there’s this other part to the story: I’m mentoring for a freshman class at Portland State University on sustainability, and we’ve been reading and watching all kinds of stuff about manufactured foods and so on — The Omnivore’s Dilemma by Michael Pollan, documentaries like The Future of Food and King Corn, etc. Anyway, this investigation into consumables has led to a nasty habit of scrutinizing ingredients lists on food packaging. [Further warning: this is an exercise in self-abuse; it depresses the shit out of me.])
So, Rosie and I are talking about this pizza idea (well aware that Freschetta is the most delicious, and therefore our only choice), and we decide to Google the ingredients before getting in the car and driving up to the grocery store
Let me spoil the surprise: we didn’t get the pizza. But we did learn something! For instance, a Freschetta Supreme pizza includes L-Cysteine, BHA, and BHT. The rest of the ingredients I assumed some knowledge of, but these three were Greek to me. So I spent a few minutes (which quickly turned into half an hour) researching them and learned that while Cysteine (a dough conditioner and flavor enhancer!!!) used to be derived from “human hair found on the floors of Chinese barbershops,” the other two are straight-up poison.
I know what you’re thinking: “Don’t hyperbolize, asshole!” But, I’m not. They are poison.
BHA and BHT are derived from petroleum and used to enhance/preserve flavor and color, and to prevent the rancification of packaged foods, particularly those that contain animal products. And, look, I realize that this sounds like a good thing, but while rancification may not be a real word, “poison” is.
So the question before us: if pizza = bliss, and poison = not bliss, which is greater? The need to eat pizza, or the need to avoid poison? On this occasion, the need to avoid poison won out — though just barely. But next time, who knows? That BHT-filled dairy disk may be just the thing to fill the BHT-sized hole in my heart. (Then again, it was probably also the cause of that BHT-sized hole in my heart, but pickers can’t be choosers. Or something like that. Anyway, have I mentioned I love pizza?)
Is the dosage dangerous? I mean… we take in carcinogens every day, and did even before we had civilization (and we were just inhaling smoke from our cookfires).I just ranted at my uncle about how Jenny McCarthy is full of bullshit, notably when she starts ranking the “worst toxins.” Vitamin C can kill you. It all depends on the dosages.
I object to using cook-fires as part of the argument. When you talk about cook-fires as a way to suggest that we’ve always dealt with a deadly environment, you have to subtract all of the other crap from the scenario (diesel exhaust in the air and mercury in the fish) and add all of the hazards that we no longer contend with (gorging by wild boars, death by infected hang-nail). The conversation becomes too messy and unmanageable. Let’s keep it here-and-now. We have the necessary elements of the equation: your body + (yummy*devil-semen)/(corp.governance+whocares)=n.
I’m willing to accept the premise that anything can kill you under the right circumstances or at the right dosages. I’m also willing to concede that J.M. is full of poo. I’m even willing to consider that when the FDA says, “eat-up!” they don’t mean me any harm.
Here are just a couple of the problems I see. First, our bodies are equipped to deal with some substances. Vitamin C is one of those things that can be flushed out with little or no harm when we take in too much. You might feel a little sick, but you’d probably have to make a serious effort to do damage with vit. C. On the other hand, our bodies were never “designed” to deal with consuming these other substances. We aren’t really sure what the long-term effects are. That’s why people like Jenny have got a leg to stand on. And maybe that’s why my dog has huge tumors all over her rib cage. Her food is loaded with that shit.
Second, the FDA is entirely peopled by industry lackeys. Even if you could trust that they are working in your interest (you can’t), they only state that the dosage present in the recommended serving is safe. If the recommended serving is 1/2 a pie, and you eat the whole thing, they can’t be held responsible for your shriveled liver, blown kidney, or rotted colon. Ditto if you wash it down with a soda full of refined sugars, and double-ditto if you follow it with a pint of ice cream that’s also loaded with petro-chemicals. (Damn! I’m hungry!) The point is, their recommendations don’t assume that you eat this crap in most of the products that you consume, but that is increasingly the case.
I’m not saying that I’m done eating pizza, or even frozen pizza. I’m just more aware of the ubiquity of non-food in my food and I’m now less likely to make that selection when presented with the choice.
“Got a cigarette by chance, Boss?” The kid steps through the train from behind me, puffing steam. I look up and shake a no. My brain automatically tallies up the time since my last smoke – two years? Two-and-a-half? Something like that. I was — just 15 minutes ago — strolling behind a fellow with a lit cigarette, matching my stride to his for a brief moment, in order to sniff the sweet-scented air that he trailed in his wake. This kid on the MAX doesn’t understand the significance of his question. He sucks his teeth at me and moves to the other end of the car.
It’s pleasantly warm in here. They heat these trains. It’s like a public service that they provide along with the cheap transportation. I appreciate it. It’s fuckin’ cold outside. Waiting for the train, I stood on the platform with my back to the wind, facing down the stream of traffic. I watched a bicycle pass a car on the right, in the middle of an intersection, over the slick, metal MAX tracks. His flickering red tail-light was still visible two blocks away. That seems pretty safe.
The doors open at each stop and the fluid that moistens my eyeballs freezes in the icy blast of outside air. I have to blink a few times to thaw them out.
All day today people were talking about snow. It was forecast for last night, but it didn’t come. The meteorologists called it for this evening, between four and five. It didn’t come then either. I heard someone say that they were predicting snow by ten o’clock tonight. It’s 9:54 now, and let me tell you… it’s not snowing, but it’s cold.
