The Luv Doc: The Sugar Tit

Luv Doc,
I have a love problem. I loves me some food – all kinds. I am usually eating long after everybody else at the table is finished. Sometimes I go out to get fast food in the middle of the night or do a couple of bong hits and end up eating a whole bag of potato chips. I even eat ice cream for breakfast sometimes. I know I have a problem. Should I get therapy? Or should I just get another cheeseburger?
-Mr. Munchy

The correct answer is cheeseburger – but only if you’re playing Scrabble®, and even then it’s only worth 20 points. Actually you’re better off playing “jukebox.” It’s a much leaner word and worth a whopping 7 extra points. Cheeseburgers work the same way in the real word as well; they’re not worth all the extra weight. To burn off the calories of one cheeseburger you would have to run a 5K. Throw in a regular fries and you’re looking at a 10K. That’s more than 6 miles for a cheeseburger. I’m just going to go ahead and say it for you: Fuck that shit. No cheeseburger in the world is worth running 6 miles, and there are some damn delicious cheeseburgers out there. Fortunately for us, that is a purely rhetorical equation, but if you get it wrong enough times it will pack some serious weight on your ass.

You should know that your food fetish is not entirely your fault. Food corporations are constantly scheming up ways to get you to consume more and more. Not only are you bombarded with an incessant barrage of advertising that features mouth-watering delectables, you’re also driven to gorge by the roller coaster ride of insulin spikes that either leave you bug-eyed and euphoric or cranky and ravenous. Food corporations really have us by the shorthairs. It’s hard getting off their sugar tit. Everyone keeps getting fatter and dying younger because of it. Imagine if a terrorist organization claimed responsibility for killing more than 70,000 people a year and causing a nearly equal amount of amputations. Americans would declare a jihad that would make even hard-core Muslim fundamentalists shit trow. Every day Americans are being killed by diabolical bastards with weapons of mass destruction that have names like the Blooming Onion®, the Triple Whopper®, and the Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough Blizzard®. Adorable names … right up until the surgeon whips out the bone saw.

Despite this ongoing atrocity, no one is taking up arms to storm the Burger King’s castle. Why? It’s all about money. In fact, chances are you might even be earning a little coin off these insidious terrorist organizations yourself – maybe in the form of stocks or mutual funds. If so, you’re part of the evil. You’re living in the Burger King’s castle.

The good news is that you know you have a problem, but the problem is much bigger than you alone. So yes, by all means, get therapy. Get an ally in the fight against the fat makers. Storm the castle. Do whatever it takes to get off the sugar tit before it kills you.