The Perfect Life #22

Dear Dr. Perfect,

My husband has tendency to jump onto dieting trends, such as vegetarianism, veganism, keto diets, gluten-free diets, et cetera, et cetera, et-fucking-cetera. These swerves in our food consumption tend to be expensive, and I try to be GGG regarding this experiment in gastrointestinal distress, but now he insists the entire family limit itself to mud-water diet called Ka’Shite, which looks like thick diarrhea, but somehow tastes worse, if my imagination is any guide.

I just want the freedom to eat a hard-boiled egg and black coffee in peace. What can I do?

Sincerely,

Inconsolable and incontinent

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Dear Poor Bastard,

There’s no escape from the tyranny of health nuts. I believe a similar line was delivered by Teddy Roosevelt during one of his Presidential addresses. Or was it Taft? Today, we’re inundated with articles about the benefits of eating bugs and drinking poop water. Such far-fetched ideas are generally perpetuated by First World hipsters in air-conditioned lofts with stocked refrigerators and piles of expensive appliances.

For every unconventional take regurgitated by these pukes, I say, “You first.” The problem is that one of them will eventually take me up on it and practice what they preach. Such busy bodies are determined to impede our glutinous enjoyment of life. For instance, the deluge of articles and news segments about the benefits of eating cicadas, of all things. These flying menaces recently swarmed Washington D.C. after a 17-year sabbatical, and it was only natural that someone would suggest eating them.

I heard two women conversing about it in the supermarket.

“That’s disgusting,” one woman said.

Her counterpart replied, “What’s the big deal? They’re no different than shrimp.”

Her friend scoffed and said, “Well, I don’t like shrimp either.”

Monsters.

But, Dr. Perfect, taste isn’t everything when it comes to healthy eating. 

Sure.

I’d take a monster bacon cheddar burger dipped in Jack Daniels sauce any day over a bowl of lettuce. Such indulgence, however, will eventually clog my arteries, lead to a heart attack, and deprive the world of my essential advice. It’s best to find a balance between life-affirming eating and the crap your husband’s pushing.

Enjoy your hard-boiled egg and black coffee, with a long knife beside your plate. If your husband complains before you finish your coffee, use the knife. Force-feed him his Ka’Shite until he weeps hysterically. Cut off one of his nipples. Then tell him he cannot move until you finish your coffee.

Or a divorce, maybe?

Dr. Perfect has slung advice across the globe for the last two decades due to his dedication to the uplift of the human condition.