by John Taraborelli
What is this? Look at this. What is this? A hot dog. Ah yes, a hot dog. Maybe you want it; maybe you don't. What difference does it make? What does this hot dog represent? A meal? Maybe. A snack? Perhaps. An opportunity? Yes. You're not going to be swayed away from eating this delicious hot dog-by what? By a bullshit, middle class morality that tells you what to eat and when?
They tell you what? They tell you you'll die of high blood pressure. Hypertension. Heart disease. High cholesterol. Which of these things happens? None of them. You want to believe in a healthy lifestyle, one that doesn't include so much sodium and trans-fat? You want to eat salads and drink all-natural juices and jog in the park? Fine. Do it. Live that life.
Or maybe you eat the hot dog and feel guilty-for what? For cheating on your diet? For hiding a greasy, delicious snack from your wife? You needn't feel ashamed of that. Some meals you share at home with your wife, and other meals-well, those are yours. And you should eat for them what you want.
You spill mustard on your tie. So what? Got a grease spot on your shirt cuff. Live with it!
I'm going to make you a hot dog now. Maybe you want ketchup on it; maybe you don't. I don't know anymore.
Glad I met ya