Incontheivable!

My God. Not a day goes by that I don't hear depressing news. And this time, it's Bizarro-depressing. Because it sort of proves I was right when I thought I was wrong. In a bad way. Or something

I wrote the world's unhealthiest cookbook; Eat What You Want and Die Like a Man (Citadel, 2008). In that book, I pushed all sorts of animal fats. A typical Eat What You Want meal, for me, is a 2-pound bone-in prime rib eye steak, doused in garlic butter, plus a 12-16-ounce baked potato with garlic butter PLUS at least six ounces of pure sour cream. And I salt the hell out of everything. I follow up with Key lime pie. If it's physically possible.

Mmm...steak...sour cream...butter...

I'm back.

The original version of the book contained a recipe for doughnuts fried in lard. But I eventually changed the lard to corn oil. I thought corn oil was a better choice, because it tastes buttery and doesn't produce the pig-stench problems you can get if you buy the wrong lard. I made this decision even though I thought corn oil was healthier than lard.

Okay, now you're up to speed. Here's where it gets weird. Today Sissy Willis cites a new Harvard Institute of Blah Blah Something or Other press release or interview or some such, stating that animal fat probably doesn't cause heart disease. And corn oil is specifically mentioned as a possible cause of heart attacks. Reader Jim Calloway told me.

Arrgh.

I can't figure out whether to be upset or not. Am I glad because I always thought the cholesterol hysteria was BS, or am I sad because my one feeble step toward good health turned out to be a mistake, or am I sad because the bulk of my book, which promotes animal fat, is actually somewhat healthy? My head is spinning. Maybe some doughnuts would help.

Have I been proven right, or does this prove I'm completely wrong?

It gets even more complicated. The Harvard folks appear to suggest that cholesterol is fairly harmless. And sadly, I have to disagree. I think cholesterol has nothing to do with heart attacks, but I'm pretty damn sure it causes gallstones. I never knew I had a gall bladder until I started dieting and exercising while eating 20 eggs a week.

I think the most shocking thing about all this is how often news stories pop up, proving I'm right about something. I try to be an uninformed blowhard demagogue, but it seems like I come up right, time after time, regardless. I was right about hurricane season crapping out, I was right about Pajamas Media, I was right about The Half-Hour News Hour, I'm almost certainly right about global warming, and now I'm right about fat. Maybe I'm an idiot-savant.

By the way, the current state of hurricane hysteria is pants-wetting funny. All season long, I've been going out on a limb, talking about how pathetic the storms have been, and how the global-warming hurricane epidemic didn't exist, and how stupid all the hippie sheep were for buying into it. And I've been directing people to The Wunderblog at Weather Underground, where storm-loving morons gather to cautiously vent their glee over the misfortunes of hurricane victims. The comments there have been utterly forlorn, as potential storm after potential storm has shriveled like George Costanza in the Bering Sea. Well, guess what? This past week, reality finally sunk in over there, and Jeff Masters (the Wunderblogger) pretty much admitted the season was over. And he went several days without an update, which is completely out of character.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

It's LATE OCTOBER, hippies. Your hurricane epidemic is CANCELLED. It's NOT COMING. Last year was dull, this year was dull, and next year will probably be dull, too.

Let's have yet another side-splitting laugh at the hurricane probability graph.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. WHOO HOOO.

Look where we are on that graph. We're flying down the side of a cliff! Sure, we could have a freak storm before January 1. But we'll never begin to catch up with those juicy preseason prognostications. The score? ME 9,345; HIPPIES 0. I am, to the hippies, as virtually any professional or even high school football team is to the Miami Dolphins.

Boy, do the Dolphins suck. The only thing they're missing is a filter bag.

I was talking to Val Prieto the other day about how Ronnie Brown (does something or other on offense) was out for the season. And I pointed out that nobody cares. At this point, it doesn't matter if we lose a player. If the whole team died in a bus crash, it wouldn't make things any worse than they are right now. Actually, it might improve our stats. You can't lose if you're dead.

Am I evil for rooting for a perfect season? I know we can do it. We've lost six games. I'm sure we can stretch that to 16 or whatever the number of games is, that they let you lose before they tell you your season is over and you can go home and hide.

WE'RE NUMBER 32! WE'RE NUMBER 32! That hurricane graph could also be a graph of the Dolphin's won-loss ratio since the team was formed.

I guess I'm not a very good football fan.

I can't help it. I don't care about the Dolphins or any other team, because I know most professional athletes feel nothing but contempt and amusement for their fans. In my case, that's fair, because that's what I feel for professional athletes. I'll root for the Dolphins when they show up at Barnes and Noble in body paint to root for my books.

But a football game is a great excuse for a barbecue.

I'll post a new hurricane gloat in a week or two. Unless the season turns out to be so limp I forget it exists.