Racism?
Who is the last person you'd think would be openly racist?
A female latina demoratic candidate?
Think again!
Entertainers...
And we have to make due with Lindsay Lohan and Justin Bieber.
What has happened to the world?!?!
For Penny...
Keg wine and wine vending machines just got supersized: 500 and one-thousand liter kegs have landed in French supermarkets.
Bring your own resealable bottles, Poland Spring containers, jerrycans, whatever. Or you can get one at the store. Select your grade (red, white, or rosé). Pump. Print receipt.
Astrid Terzian introduced this concept that hearkens back to a bygone era when wine would arrive in Paris shops in tonneaux and consumers would bring their own flagons to fill. But today, Terzian says, she started this scheme in fall 2008 to fill a niche, tapping into two key themes, environmental awareness and the economy. (She actually wanted to buy a wine property and run a B&B but it was too expensive. So she turned to what she says she knew how to do: sales.) The elimination of packaging mass means that the wine can be shipped much more efficiently from a cost and carbon perspective.
The cost-savings are passed on to the consumer in the form of low prices of 1.45 euros/liter (about $2/liter). She installed her first machine in June 2009 at the Cora supermarket in Dunkirk and now has them installed in eight supermarkets in France. The wines vary; one is a 2009 from the Rhone, technically a vin de pays méditerranée.
As to customer reaction, Terzian says customers are taken aback at first, but then warm up to the idea, especially after a taste. They come back often, she says.
Asked via email which is her favorite container to bring to fill, she says she uses a five-liter jug since it is “neither too big nor too small–and it’s typically French.”
My only question about the pump wine (aka Chateau La Pompe) is if it comes to New Jersey and Oregon, will they require full serve as they do for gas?!
Brian Coombs asked a great question - will this fit in the back of a truck?
Bradley Made Chief ! ! ! ! !
We're all proud and excited! He's a great guy and deserves the hell out of this promotion!!
Chief Petty Officer is the seventh enlisted rank in the U.S. Navy and U.S. Coast Guard, just above Petty Officer First Class and below Senior Chief Petty Officer, and is a senior non-commissioned officer. The Grade of Chief Petty Officer was established on April 1, 1893 for the Navy. Congress first authorized the Coast Guard to use the promotion to Chief Petty Officer on 18 May 1920.
Unlike Petty Officer First Class and lower ranks, advancement to Chief Petty Officer not only carries requirements of time in service, superior evaluation scores, and specialty examinations, but also carries an added requirement of peer review. A Chief Petty Officer can only advance after review by a selection board of serving Senior and Master Chief Petty Officers, in effect "choosing their own" and conversely not choosing others.
Advancement into the Chief Petty Officer grades is the most significant promotion within the enlisted naval ranks. At the rank of Chief, the Sailor takes on more administrative duties. In the Navy, their uniform changes to reflect this change of duty, becoming identical to that of an officer's uniform except with different insignia. Sailors in the three Chief Petty Officer ranks also have conspicuous privileges such as separate dining and living areas. Any naval vessel of sufficient size has a room or rooms that are off-limits to anyone not a Chief (including officers) except by specific invitation (if one is invited to eat in the Chief's Mess, it is customary to eat everything on the plate no matter what condiments are added by members of the Chief's Mess to enhance one's dining experience). In Navy jargon, this room is called the Chief's Mess, or tongue in cheek, the "goat locker." In addition, a Chief Petty Officer, no matter how much he was on "first name" basis with other petty officers before promotion, is always addressed as "Chief" by subordinates and superiors.
Chief Petty Officers serve a dual role as both technical experts and as leaders, with the emphasis being more on leadership as they progress through the CPO ranks. A recognized, collateral duty for all Chiefs is the training of Junior Officers. Like Petty Officers, every Chief has both a rate (rank) and rating (job, similar to an MOS in other branches). A Chief's full title is a combination of the two. Thus, a Chief Petty Officer, who has the rating of Gunner's Mate would properly be called a Chief Gunner's Mate.
Each rating has an official abbreviation, such as QM for Quartermaster, BM for Boatswain's Mate, or FC for Fire Controlman. When combined with the petty officer level, this gives the short-hand for the chief's rank, such as BMC for Chief Boatswain's Mate. It is not uncommon practice to refer to the chief by this short hand in all but the most formal correspondence (such as printing and inscription on awards). Mostly, though, they are simply called "Chief," regardless of rating.
The chief petty officer's insignia is a perched eagle with spread wings (often, affectionately, referred to as a "crow") above three chevrons topped by a rocker. These are red, but if a Navy chief has at least 12 years of good conduct service in the armed forces, the chevrons and rocker may be worn in gold. A Coast Guard chief petty officer's sleeve insignia is always gold regardless of the conduct of service. In either case, the chief's particular rating emblem is displayed below the crow, within the area bordered by the rocker and the uppermost chevron.
U.S. Navy arm insignia for a chief yeomanOn the dress blue uniform (and variants such as mess whites), the insignia is worn on the left arm of the uniform blouse (or "suit coat" in civilian terminology). On all other uniforms, the insignia used is worn on the collar and has become universally accepted as the symbol of the chief petty officer, which is a fouled (entwined in the anchor chain) gold anchor superimposed with the letters "USN" in silver in the Navy, or a silver shield in the Coast Guard.
In the U.S. Navy, officers and Chiefs are often colloquially referred to as "khakis." This is a reference to the color of their most common shipboard working uniforms, and is a direct contrast to those in paygrades E-6 and below (deckplate sailors, or blueshirts). However, the Navy has a new working uniform for paygrades below E-7 which consists of a khaki shirt and black trousers. This has caused some dissent within the upper enlisted and officer ranks. In the Coast Guard, petty officers, chief petty officers, warrant officers, and commissioned officer all wear similar uniforms.
Induction
Previously, once selected for advancement to chief, the selectee was made to endure a period of instruction and screening by his or her cognizant Chief's Quarters. The selectee was assigned a sponsor who supervises the selectee's indoctrination. A "charge book", decorated in the manner dictated by the Sponsor, was presented for signature to every Chief, Senior Chief, and Master Chief in the local area. These chiefs would provide written tasks, ask questions, or provide guidance to the selectee. The chiefs would also assess fines and levee "criminal charges" written in the selectee's charge book in the case of the selectee's performance being subpar. The charge book would be taken into evidence at the end of this indoctrination period. The indoctrination period would culminate with the initiation ceremony.
Initiation typically would begin midnight of the day of frocking and would last through the night and until midday. Schedules vary depending on command policy and mission availability. Selectees were ordered to muster in their dungaree uniforms with the "Dixie Cup" Sailor's hat. Initiation rites are similar to the old U.S. Navy tradition of Shellback initiation but tailored for the chief's community. At some point during the initiation, the selectee's Dixie Cup is laid to rest and usually eulogized by the selectee. This represents the transition into the Chief's community.
Initiations were attended only by previously initiated active duty and retired chiefs. During initiation the Selectee would stand before "The Kangaroo Court" and be judged of his crimes as read from his charge book. The sentences varied by the severity of the crimes. "Punishment" was carried out as part of the initiation. A selectee may, at any time after selection results are posted, elect to forgo the initiation process. Participation in the initiation ceremony is purely voluntary.
After initiation, the selectees were then recognized by their peers as fellow Chief Petty Officers and welcomed into the "Chief's Mess" (goat locker). The selectees were then allowed to bathe and don their new Khaki uniforms, sans collar devices and Combination Covers.
"Initiation" has changed over the years in order to adapt to current Navy policy, regulations, and guidelines. The most current term for the weeks of training, mentoring, and the final night of Chief selectee training is "Induction." MCPON Campa dubbed the term, and ordered its use beginning with the FY07 Induction season. Older, or retired, Chiefs often misinterpret the new Chiefs Induction season as a watered-down version of the often brutal hazing sessions they experienced during their initiations. The new version still adheres to the time-old tradition and spirit of "initiation"; many would argue that the current training actually brings back many traditions that have been lost through years of abusive tactics used during initiations of the past.
New Chief Petty Officer inductees are required to perform skits showing naval heritage and display their knowledge regarding the Sailor's Creed, Navy Hymn, Anchor's Aweigh and other naval songs.
Frocking of the new Chief was, and is, conducted by their Commanding Officer where their "Anchors" are pinned on by someone of their choosing, usually a family member or Chief, and they are presented with their Combination Cap by the Chief's Mess.
Emblem
The Navy Chief Petty Officer emblem is symbolized by a fouled anchor with the letters USN centered on the anchor. Officially the letters stand for United States Navy. According to naval tradition, the letters are symbolic of the following:
Unity - to symbolize comaraderie of the fraternity.
Service - to symbolize service to one's god, fellow man, and the Navy.
Navigation - to symbolize true course before God and man.
The Coast Guard Chief Petty Officer emblem is symbolized by a fouled anchor with a shield superimposed on its shank. The anchor is emblematic of "The Chief" and represents stability and security. It serves to remind the Chief of their responsibility to keep those they serve safe from harm's way. The significance of the shield date to the days of the Revenue Cutter Service when Congress added the shield to the ensign of the Cutter Service to distinguish cutters from other naval vessels. The chain is symbolic of flexibility and strength and serves to remind the Chief that the chain of life is forged day-by-day, link-by-link. The chain also represents the reliance of one Chief Petty Officer on another to get the job done and reminds him not to be the weak link in the chain. The chain fouled around the anchor represents the "the Sailor's disgrace" and serves to remind Chiefs that there may be times when circumstances are beyond their control in the performance of their duty but a Chief must complete the task.
Truth...
All of Us
from Chiron by Rory
Sitting on a plane today next to a very lovely young woman. Looked across the aisle and saw an elderly woman...and they were the same. Sort of. In the elderly woman I could see the bones and carriage of a young lady who had been a knockout.
That's all of us. Born so small, I used to delight in holding my daughter in one hand. So tiny and fragile. Not human, really, except in potential. Precious, but when you make the list of things that define human, (reason and speech and manipulating symbols and objects) newborns don't really fit the criteria. They are a unique animal.
Then, in a few years another discrete stage- exploring the world, stumbling. Occasionally frightened but more often filled with an awe-inspiring curiosity. Toddlers are funny, darling and cute as the dickens.
Then they become children. Real explorers. Full of dreams and possibility. Right here they can be grown into heroes or shamed into robotic, fearful sheep. If you let them run with the age, they will do and be miracles.
Next the angsty teen, pre-teen and post-teen stuff. Trying to figure out who they are and where they fit. With strong kids, this is fascinating. With weak kids or those with a sense of special entitlement I imagine it would be terrible to parent. Gratefully, I've been spared that.
Then the young adult. Full flower. The beauty of the young woman sitting next to me (my wife has much better legs, though. And shoulders. And skin...) The potential and strength in a young man. Little wisdom yet, but often intelligence. Not always, people can be damaged at any stage, but if they aren't too damaged, each stage has a special magic, a special beauty and a power.
The full adult, moving through the world with confidence. Caring for others, making things better. Righting wrongs and holding responsibilities. A force to be reckoned with.
The quiet years where the torch passes to others and you exist in knowledge (I'm not here yet, so this is speculation.) You watch the seeds of what you have done flourish in your community and family.
Then the slipping into darkness that frankly terrifies me. As eyes go and body and possibly mind...maybe it all seems for nothing. Maybe not. Maybe you forget things that should never be forgotten. What would Lawrence of Arabia have been like in a nursing home, suffering from dementia and incontinence?
Then death, pale skin and flesh of cold and clammy meat.
Then the meat rots.
And it is for all of us. The elderly lady has been the same as the lovely young lady, and still is in a way. We are or have been the same as the children we see discovering tadpoles for the first time.
It's kind of beautiful.
Chiron
from Chiron by Rory
Sitting on a plane today next to a very lovely young woman. Looked across the aisle and saw an elderly woman...and they were the same. Sort of. In the elderly woman I could see the bones and carriage of a young lady who had been a knockout.
That's all of us. Born so small, I used to delight in holding my daughter in one hand. So tiny and fragile. Not human, really, except in potential. Precious, but when you make the list of things that define human, (reason and speech and manipulating symbols and objects) newborns don't really fit the criteria. They are a unique animal.
Then, in a few years another discrete stage- exploring the world, stumbling. Occasionally frightened but more often filled with an awe-inspiring curiosity. Toddlers are funny, darling and cute as the dickens.
Then they become children. Real explorers. Full of dreams and possibility. Right here they can be grown into heroes or shamed into robotic, fearful sheep. If you let them run with the age, they will do and be miracles.
Next the angsty teen, pre-teen and post-teen stuff. Trying to figure out who they are and where they fit. With strong kids, this is fascinating. With weak kids or those with a sense of special entitlement I imagine it would be terrible to parent. Gratefully, I've been spared that.
Then the young adult. Full flower. The beauty of the young woman sitting next to me (my wife has much better legs, though. And shoulders. And skin...) The potential and strength in a young man. Little wisdom yet, but often intelligence. Not always, people can be damaged at any stage, but if they aren't too damaged, each stage has a special magic, a special beauty and a power.
The full adult, moving through the world with confidence. Caring for others, making things better. Righting wrongs and holding responsibilities. A force to be reckoned with.
The quiet years where the torch passes to others and you exist in knowledge (I'm not here yet, so this is speculation.) You watch the seeds of what you have done flourish in your community and family.
Then the slipping into darkness that frankly terrifies me. As eyes go and body and possibly mind...maybe it all seems for nothing. Maybe not. Maybe you forget things that should never be forgotten. What would Lawrence of Arabia have been like in a nursing home, suffering from dementia and incontinence?
Then death, pale skin and flesh of cold and clammy meat.
Then the meat rots.
And it is for all of us. The elderly lady has been the same as the lovely young lady, and still is in a way. We are or have been the same as the children we see discovering tadpoles for the first time.
It's kind of beautiful.
Chiron
Yeah, I know...
A husband in his back yard is trying to fly a kite. He throws the kite up in the air, the wind catches it for a few seconds, then it comes crashing back down to earth. He tries this a few more times with no success.
All the while, his wife is watching from the kitchen window,
muttering to herself how men need to be told how to do everything.
She opens the window and yells to her husband, “You need a piece of tail.”
The man turns with a confused look on his face and says, “Make up your mind. Last night, you told me to go fly a kite…”
All the while, his wife is watching from the kitchen window,
muttering to herself how men need to be told how to do everything.
She opens the window and yells to her husband, “You need a piece of tail.”
The man turns with a confused look on his face and says, “Make up your mind. Last night, you told me to go fly a kite…”
I Quit Them Bastards and YOU Should Too ! ! ! !
Don't like Chase? You're not alone. If you haven't already dropped the bank but are willing to let them go, you might be on your way to a free steak dinner.
The owner of the Twilight Exit in Seattle has had it with Chase and he hopes to encourage you to leave also. He can't offer free drinks because it's against the law, but apparently free dinners are OK:
...the owner of Central District bar the Twilight Exit, is trying to kill two birds with one stone: drum up some publicity for his business and stick it to the lender that he says has him "by the short hairs." "I want to hurt them," he says of the bank.
He explains that his Kafka-esque experience with the bank finally put him over the edge:
First, he says, Chase secretly lowered his line of credit -- the lifeline of any small business owner. [The bar owner] had just moved the bar, so he was maxed out on his cards. As a result, Chase was able to tell him that his credit rating wasn't good enough to qualify.
"So I said fine; got that fixed. But then they come back and tell me my credit is too good."
[The bar owner] would clear a hurdle, he says, only to find another, even stranger one in his path. Like the forms.
Chase, he says, would send him these pre-filled-out forms. All he had to do was sign.
So sign he did. And just to be safe, sent the forms back by fax, e-mail, snail mail -- any form of communication he could think of.
"And then they say they're not legible. I'm thinking, 'All I did was sign. How can a signature not be legible?'"
"If someone wants a steak dinner," he told Seattle Weekly. "I will feed them."
Twilight Exit
The owner of the Twilight Exit in Seattle has had it with Chase and he hopes to encourage you to leave also. He can't offer free drinks because it's against the law, but apparently free dinners are OK:
...the owner of Central District bar the Twilight Exit, is trying to kill two birds with one stone: drum up some publicity for his business and stick it to the lender that he says has him "by the short hairs." "I want to hurt them," he says of the bank.
He explains that his Kafka-esque experience with the bank finally put him over the edge:
First, he says, Chase secretly lowered his line of credit -- the lifeline of any small business owner. [The bar owner] had just moved the bar, so he was maxed out on his cards. As a result, Chase was able to tell him that his credit rating wasn't good enough to qualify.
"So I said fine; got that fixed. But then they come back and tell me my credit is too good."
[The bar owner] would clear a hurdle, he says, only to find another, even stranger one in his path. Like the forms.
Chase, he says, would send him these pre-filled-out forms. All he had to do was sign.
So sign he did. And just to be safe, sent the forms back by fax, e-mail, snail mail -- any form of communication he could think of.
"And then they say they're not legible. I'm thinking, 'All I did was sign. How can a signature not be legible?'"
"If someone wants a steak dinner," he told Seattle Weekly. "I will feed them."
Twilight Exit
Hahahahahahahaa
I went to the doctor’s the other day and found out my new doctor is a young female; absolutely drop-dead gorgeous!
I was embarrassed but she said, “Don’t worry, I’m a professional – I’ve seen it all before. Just tell me what’s wrong and I’ll help you in any way I can.”
So I said,
“I think my penis may taste funny…”
I was embarrassed but she said, “Don’t worry, I’m a professional – I’ve seen it all before. Just tell me what’s wrong and I’ll help you in any way I can.”
So I said,
“I think my penis may taste funny…”
Hahahahahahahaa
A nun walked into Mother Superior’s office and plunked down into a chair. She let out a sigh heavy with frustration.
‘What troubles you, Sister?’ asked the Mother Superior. ‘I thought this was the day you spent with your family.’
‘It was,’ sighed the Sister. ‘And I went to play golf with my brother. We try to play golf as often as we can. You know I was quite a talented golfer before I devoted my life to Christ.’
‘I seem to recall that,’ the Mother Superior agreed. ‘So I take it your day of recreation was not relaxing?’
‘Far from it,’ snorted the Sister. ‘In fact, I even took the Lord’s name in vain today!’
‘Goodness, Sister!’ gasped the Mother Superior, astonished. ‘You must tell me all about it!’
‘Well, we were on the fifth tee…and this hole is a monster, Mother. A 540 yard Par 5, with a nasty dogleg right and a hidden green…and I hit the drive of my life. I creamed it. The sweetest swing I ever made. And it’s flying straight and true, right along the line I wanted…and it hits a bird in mid-flight !’
‘Oh my!’ commiserated the Mother. ‘How unfortunate! But surely that didn’t make you blaspheme, Sister!
”No, that wasn’t it,’ admitted Sister. ‘While I was still trying to fathom what had happened, this squirrel runs out of the woods, grabs my ball and runs off down the fairway!’
‘Oh, that would have made me blaspheme!’ sympathized the Mother.
‘But I didn’t, Mother!’ sobbed the Sister. ‘And I was so proud of myself! And while I was pondering whether this was a sign from God, this hawk swoops out of the sky and grabs the squirrel and flies off, with my ball still clutched in his paws!’
‘So that’s when you cursed,’ said the Mother with a knowing smile.
‘Nope, that wasn’t it either,’ cried the Sister, anguished, ‘because as the hawk started to fly out of sight, the squirrel started struggling, and the hawk dropped him right there on the green, and the ball popped out of his paws and rolled to about 18 inches from the cup!’
Mother Superior sat back in her chair, folded her arms across her chest, fixed the Sister with a baleful stare and said… ’You missed the fucking putt, didn’t you?’
‘What troubles you, Sister?’ asked the Mother Superior. ‘I thought this was the day you spent with your family.’
‘It was,’ sighed the Sister. ‘And I went to play golf with my brother. We try to play golf as often as we can. You know I was quite a talented golfer before I devoted my life to Christ.’
‘I seem to recall that,’ the Mother Superior agreed. ‘So I take it your day of recreation was not relaxing?’
‘Far from it,’ snorted the Sister. ‘In fact, I even took the Lord’s name in vain today!’
‘Goodness, Sister!’ gasped the Mother Superior, astonished. ‘You must tell me all about it!’
‘Well, we were on the fifth tee…and this hole is a monster, Mother. A 540 yard Par 5, with a nasty dogleg right and a hidden green…and I hit the drive of my life. I creamed it. The sweetest swing I ever made. And it’s flying straight and true, right along the line I wanted…and it hits a bird in mid-flight !’
‘Oh my!’ commiserated the Mother. ‘How unfortunate! But surely that didn’t make you blaspheme, Sister!
”No, that wasn’t it,’ admitted Sister. ‘While I was still trying to fathom what had happened, this squirrel runs out of the woods, grabs my ball and runs off down the fairway!’
‘Oh, that would have made me blaspheme!’ sympathized the Mother.
‘But I didn’t, Mother!’ sobbed the Sister. ‘And I was so proud of myself! And while I was pondering whether this was a sign from God, this hawk swoops out of the sky and grabs the squirrel and flies off, with my ball still clutched in his paws!’
‘So that’s when you cursed,’ said the Mother with a knowing smile.
‘Nope, that wasn’t it either,’ cried the Sister, anguished, ‘because as the hawk started to fly out of sight, the squirrel started struggling, and the hawk dropped him right there on the green, and the ball popped out of his paws and rolled to about 18 inches from the cup!’
Mother Superior sat back in her chair, folded her arms across her chest, fixed the Sister with a baleful stare and said… ’You missed the fucking putt, didn’t you?’
We'll Miss You...
Ronnie James Dio, legendary vocalist for Black Sabbath, Heaven & Hell and Dio, has died after a battle with stomach cancer, according to his wife, Wendy Dio. He was 67 years old.
For Melissa...
A woman was kicked to death by a giraffe on a South African game farm while she was out walking her dogs. Merike Engelbrecht, 25, was discovered by her family with a broken neck after one of the two dogs with its leash still attached returned to their property without her.
Her brother Hannes Visser said trackers suspected the pets disturbed a herd of giraffes which included a cow and calf who may have become protective of her offspring. "It seems as if she grabbed the dog and tried to protect it. That was when the giraffe kicked her from the back in the neck. Her neck was broken. She died instantly," Mr Visser said.
Mr Visser said the family were visiting the game park in Limpopo province near the Zimbabwe border to celebrate their mother's 50th birthday, which coincided with Engelbrecht and husband Juan's first wedding anniversary. Both German Shorthaired Pointer dogs Tasco and Jasha suffered bruising from the incident on Saturday morning.
Despite their elegant appearance, giraffes possess a powerful kick if threatened. Scientists said one kick can shatter the skull or break the spine of a lion - one of its main predators. "The trackers were able to work out what had happened from the tracks and the marks on the ground," family member William Smith said. "It was a total freak accident. She gave her life to protect her dogs." He said the family did not resent the animal or the game park in Musina which they visited before. The giraffe will not be destroyed.
Hahahahahahahaa
A woman walks into the bar, sits down and orders a drink. The bartender says to her, “Damn, you are totally gonna get laid tonight.” The lady responds, “Wow, thanks. Is it because of something I’m wearing?” The bartenders says, “No, it’s because I’m stronger than you.”
For Brad...
A Mexican, an Arab, and a Wisconsin girl are in the same bar.
When the Mexican finishes his beer, he throws his glass in the air, pulls out his pistol, and shoots the glass to pieces. He says, 'In Mexico , our glasses are so
cheap we don't need to drink with the same one twice.'
The Arab, obviously impressed by this, drinks non-alcohol beer (cuz he's a muslim!), throws it into the air, pulls out his AK-47, and shoots the glass to pieces. He says, 'In the Arab World, we have so much sand to make glasses that we don't need to drink with the same one twice either.'
The Wisconsin girl, cool as a cucumber, picks up her beer, downs it in one gulp, throws the glass into the air, whips out her 45, and shoots the Mexican and the Arab.
Catching her glass, setting it on the bar, and calling for a refill, she says,
In Wisconsin , we have so many illegal aliens that we don't have to drink with the same ones twice.'
God Bless Wisconsin
Thanks Longrooffan
When the Mexican finishes his beer, he throws his glass in the air, pulls out his pistol, and shoots the glass to pieces. He says, 'In Mexico , our glasses are so
cheap we don't need to drink with the same one twice.'
The Arab, obviously impressed by this, drinks non-alcohol beer (cuz he's a muslim!), throws it into the air, pulls out his AK-47, and shoots the glass to pieces. He says, 'In the Arab World, we have so much sand to make glasses that we don't need to drink with the same one twice either.'
The Wisconsin girl, cool as a cucumber, picks up her beer, downs it in one gulp, throws the glass into the air, whips out her 45, and shoots the Mexican and the Arab.
Catching her glass, setting it on the bar, and calling for a refill, she says,
In Wisconsin , we have so many illegal aliens that we don't have to drink with the same ones twice.'
God Bless Wisconsin
Thanks Longrooffan
Hmmmmm...
Those spoilsport researchers at Princeton are off spreading the word that sweet, delicious high-fructose corn syrup is as bad for your diet as Taylor Swift music is for your soul. The substance, found in soda, cookies, salad dressing and pretty much everything else that tastes good, is worse for you than fat or sucrose.
From the Princeton story:
In addition to causing significant weight gain in lab animals, long-term consumption of high-fructose corn syrup also led to abnormal increases in body fat, especially in the abdomen, and a rise in circulating blood fats called triglycerides. The researchers say the work sheds light on the factors contributing to obesity trends in the United States.
"Some people have claimed that high-fructose corn syrup is no different than other sweeteners when it comes to weight gain and obesity, but our results make it clear that this just isn't true, at least under the conditions of our tests," said psychology professor Bart Hoebel, who specializes in the neuroscience of appetite, weight and sugar addiction. "When rats are drinking high-fructose corn syrup at levels well below those in soda pop, they're becoming obese -- every single one, across the board. Even when rats are fed a high-fat diet, you don't see this; they don't all gain extra weight."
Don't worry, HFCS, I still love you. Because a life lived without being destroyed from the inside by you is hardly a life worth living.
A sweet problem: Princeton researchers find that high-fructose corn syrup prompts considerably more weight gain [Princeton University]
(Thank, Chiko and Cy!)
Hahahahahahahaa
A lady walks into a drugstore and tells the pharmacist she needs some cyanide. ??The pharmacist says, “Why in the world do you need cyanide?”
The lady then explains that she needs it to poison her husband. The pharmacist’s eyes get big and he says, “I can’t give you cyanide to kill your husband! That’s against the law! I’ll lose my license. They’ll throw both of us in jail and all kinds of bad things will happen! Absolutely not—you cannot have any cyanide!”
The lady reaches into her purse and pulls out a picture of her husband in bed with the pharmacist’s wife. The pharmacist looks at the picture and says, “Ohhhh. Well, now. You didn’t tell me you had a prescription!”
The lady then explains that she needs it to poison her husband. The pharmacist’s eyes get big and he says, “I can’t give you cyanide to kill your husband! That’s against the law! I’ll lose my license. They’ll throw both of us in jail and all kinds of bad things will happen! Absolutely not—you cannot have any cyanide!”
The lady reaches into her purse and pulls out a picture of her husband in bed with the pharmacist’s wife. The pharmacist looks at the picture and says, “Ohhhh. Well, now. You didn’t tell me you had a prescription!”
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