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Blood, Pus, and Chunks

      Saving lives is the justification for raising such a filthy, nasty subject

The more we read about all of the blood, pus, and infected chunks that pour into the daily milk supply at several thousand different dairy production operations, the more we can wonder why man is the one and only creature on earth that willingly dinks mother's milk from another animal. Other than kids who are lactose-intolerant, there is hardly a one among us who does not love milk, especially with cookies or cake; it would be harder still to find someone who does not like ice cream. Added to that is the viable and perfectly reasonable argument put forth by those who recognize the dangers of, saying, eating fast food on a regular basis and are more than happy to shave time off their life in order to eat food that they consider delicious; that they're living higher quality lives of happiness. While they're proven wrong about higher quality lives when the surgeon is pulling yards and yards and yards of fat out of their body, occasionally posthumously, they do have a point about maybe being happier. Never mind the burgeoning cost borne by taxpayers, now running into many tens of billions. Focus instead of the simple decision of whether to live a lifetime of instant gratification for petty and often poisonous putative treats, or focus on a life of balance, health, and still running up and down the stairs into your sixties, seventies, and beyond.

The first and fastest way to fix this problem of loving foods that are killing so many millions of people, although it does take five to ten years for the damage to start showing, is to work backwards and live it forwards, the end result being someone eating better foods. In this case, there's also several financial bonuses from the first time you do it to the last. By simply observing that someone is eating fast food more than a few times per year produces the observation that this person is not cooking for self.

If you don't have a loved one or a hired one cooking for you, you think you're saving time and money by going to a fast food restaurant. That's out-loud funny because you're wrong on both counts. It's a sweet documentation of self-deception. You want to justify going to the fast food restaurant so you think you're saving time. When you add travel to, waiting in line, then waiting for your food, then bringing it back to work or home to finally eat it, there is no way you have saved either time or money. If you eat your fast food at the fast food restaurant more than a few times per year, the MisterShortcut Zen Path is quick to consider you as most-probably hopeless. That doesn't mean you're hopeless, just that you have a much higher probability of being beyond help. That's because people who make a habit of eating at fast food restaurants are not self-directed. They almost always work for someone else, and as many as eighty percent of them are salaried employees who never come in contact with golden parachutes. The majority of their career time, approximately and averaging two thousand weeks, will be spent following someone else's instructions. Specifically, the instructions of self-directed people.

It's not a question of embarassment, because there's never been any social stigma attached. After all, limosines have drirough many a fast food window. Neither is it a matter of never eating at fast food restaurants. The whole point of being reasonably healthy is to enjoy balance in your life. So, if you go for nasty burgers or coated french fries once every several months, it's not likely to have any long-term impact on your life. In fact, it might even be beneficial because you're getting to treat yourself. When it becomes a daily or even weekly habit, that's not a treat, that is, as stated, a habit, something that is a part of your sustained diet, which does not actually sustain much that's good.

This small liver inside of you is a very important filter. As you may know, when people have liver failure, they usually die if they don't get a transplant. In keeping with the spirit of working backwards and living forwards, those people who die without being given a new liver provide us with reasonably strong evidence that the liver is important, not in some abstract way, instead, proactively engaged in serious, life-sustaining work every single day. Therefore, when we pile globules, hundreds of globules of animal fat into the liver, after laying in a dark, warm, wet environment for many hours, it can only handle so much. So, it does back up, even in adolescence.

When you ramp it up into the thousands of globules, and then tens of thousands of globules, you have to be pretty stupid to keep pumping that kind of cloggy garbage into your poor little liver. That overstressed victim is working overtime twenty-four hours per day trying to get rid of all those clogs, and you keep pouring them in. Thanks to the inordinately high levels of antibiotics pumped into the cows, and now even into the produced milk after it comes out of the cow, those who drink milk are assured of having chlamydia present. No exceptions we've ever found. If you're drinking milk, you've got nasty little yeasty fellows growing in you. That means your liver, pumping as furiously as it can with zero rest time for years at a stretch, must also deal with the suppressive effect of all the antibiotics you're taking in with the milk. That's why most antibiotics don't work on humans who drink milk. Each time they are prescribed antibiotics, it's a stronger level than the last time, right?

From an ardent fan of milk and ice cream, who has always delighted in that cold, refreshing feeling, the instant mental video of all that blood and pus and mastitis chunks flowing by the hundreds of thousands per day into our national milk supply, you can just imagine how quickly I'm learning to love and embrace soy milk, especially the chocolate variety, even when it would surelyi be washed down nicely with cold cow's milk. Woe is I. Remember the blood, pus, and nasty chunks by the hundreds of thousands.

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