Mansplaining

July 19th, 2017 | Posted by Mush in Admissions - (0 Comments)

In which I deleted them, because fuck it, amirite?

I live in Minneapolis. People get shot and killed by cops here.

The other day, a white woman got shot and killed by a black cop. The mayor’s tweeted concern and calls to action several times since.

Out of curiosity I did a couple of searches, and the mayor doesn’t seem to tweet much, or perhaps even at all, when black men get shot and killed by cops.

So I tweeted about it.

And two white men responded, one telling me I’m “an idiot” and the other that it “isn’t about race.”

Now, white men are okay. I live with one. My brother’s one, my dad’s one, and so on.

But what the actual fuck, dudes? The mayor has tweeted repeatedly about this dead Australian woman, but even after several searches I find no evidence of similar concern about the black males cops kill around here, so, yeah it looks like racism.

I responded to each of them. Told the first one I was talking specifically about the mayoral response, and not the press or protesters, so maybe he was, in fact, the idiot. Told the second one it looks, even if unintentionally, exactly like racism.

And then a few minutes later I deleted all three tweets, because, seriously, fuck it.

I mean, I’m not one to get pissed off at the way men sit, and I’m all for stereotypes because they’re often useful and/or funny and/or both, so while I rarely call male behavior “mansplaining,” I’m not against it in theory.

So, yeah, I got mansplained today! Because an overwhelmingly concerned response about a dead white woman shot by a black cop. and a ringing absence of concern about several dead black males shot by white cops does, well, I don’t know, look just like racism.

Now, if I just suck at searches, and the mayor does respond with warmth and concern for all shooting victims, I totally stand corrected.

Thought I’d do…

July 16th, 2017 | Posted by Mush in Admissions - (0 Comments)

In which I’m so lazy I can’t even relax properly.

Thought I’d do some relaxing and fun Sunday afternoon painting, but after a few minutes of doodling I got distracted by nothing and abandoned it.

Thought I'd do

Watched TV.

Scrolled social media.

Ate a bunch. Drank coffee.

Organized some of the crap at my desk.

Ah, Sunday!

Super Cheesy Mac ‘n’ Cheese

July 11th, 2017 | Posted by Mush in Food | Recipes - (1 Comments)

In which there’s white trash refined carbs!

This is what

There are a lot of ways to make macaroni and cheese. Most of them are stupid, if you’re tryna get a meal on the table and not fuck with getting a bunch of extra dishes dirty, because they want you to do shit like make white sauces and bake things in the oven.

Here’s a quick one-pot version. It’s fantastic.

Mac ‘n’ cheese

1 c. uncooked macaroni
a big pot of boiling water with salt, a Bay leaf, and a glug of olive oil in it
1 Tbsp. butter
1/3 c. heavy cream
1 c. shredded cheddar
2 slices of American cheese
a pinch or so each of powdered garlic and onion powder, to taste
1/4 tsp. paprika
salt & pepper

Boil macaroni 6-8 minutes, or to package instructions and your taste. Drain. Discard Bay leaf. Return to pot.

Add the butter and heavy cream. Stir, until butter is melted, to coat. Add the cheeses and stir until they melt. Add the garlic, onion, and paprika.

Add salt and pepper to taste.

Serve immediately with a bunch of other delicious shit!

New Hampshire!

July 11th, 2017 | Posted by Mush in Spiritual | Travel - (0 Comments)

In which there’s travel!

We went to New Hampshire! In a plane!

Air plane!

We stayed in a hotel! This was the view!

The view

I wrote about it in my traveler’s notebook!

Traveler's Notebook

Amma’s programs were in another hotel, so I had to walk back and forth twice a day! My Google Fit app told me I walked over 10k steps per day! Here’s a frond I saw while walking one night!

Tendril

Here’s a food I ate!

Ashram food!

Flying is kind of exhausting but still better than driving! Driving to New Hampshire would take forever!

Wing

The TSA is still a massive waste of the nation’s time, effort, and money!

(The Amma experience, as ever, was supremely amazing and more or less impossible to put into words. Even my private diary sounds like a cross between the parts in Yoga Vashista where Devi and the king’s wife time travel extensively, and some mildly drunk Kerouac. The outcome, though, was a profound deepening of Self, an indescribable release of stress, and a renewed desire to continue pursuing meditation, japa, and scripture.)

A series of admissions

June 29th, 2017 | Posted by Mush in Panic & Anxiety - (0 Comments)

In which I think about what an asshole I’ve always been, even to myself.

I’ve turned into very nearly everything for which I have ever felt contempt.

Here are some examples:

Fat? Check.

Pampered and lazy, with a litany of psychosomatic, social, and political complaints anyway? Check.

Reaches a certain age and, unoriginally, watches English period pieces, and paints, unironically, with watercolors? Check. Unhip, and occasionally even boring-seeming, life partner? Check. Tomato plants in the yard, even after a lifetime of not gardening? Check. Houseplants in tacky plastic pots I would not have been caught dead with in my 20’s or 30’s? Check.

Just walked through the building, to and from the laundry room, with my old, fat, unshaven, mottled legs exposed, braless and gross? Check!

Even as few as five years ago, at gigs, I’d eyeball women the age and shape I am now, and think, “Why on earth are you dressed like that? Don’t you know how your bra straps leave furrows in your shoulder fat, how your spare tire looks so square from the back?” I was offended that people could be out, in public, having fun while unbeautiful, even as I believed myself unbeautiful.

I felt discomfort seeing older women with thinning hair only slightly less intense than I used to feel seeing amputees or victims of fire. Now my own hair is well on its way to being fuzz by the time I’m 60, like my father’s mother’s was (although she was ill by then, so maybe it’s not genetic).

I have always, always, always judged the fat, the unbeautiful, and the unwell, even without intending. I couldn’t even conceive of any condition that could truly affect a life without being visible or serious. It took ten years of a panic disorder for me to develop real compassion for invisible suffering, like depression or chronic pain or even the anguish of an unhappy, unfulfilled life. I had to get fat myself before my heart could understand how truly fucking hard obese people have it, from the sheer strain of hauling bulk around to all the little discomforts of joints and edema and rashes.

I never meant to inwardly recoil from everything not ideal. It was never intentional, but I was born without a compassionate bone in my body, it seems. And it’s taken me forty years to quit caring about what shit looks like on the surface and really understand what lies within, the souls themselves.

Because, as it turns out, most of the beautiful people are assholes, and most of the “ugly” people are wonderful.

Today, day three of acute anxiety, I had a bit of a revelation. I had just come up from the laundry room and caught sight of myself in the hall mirror and again in my monitor as I sat down at my desk and really noticed my passing thoughts: “God, you’re fat. Look at you, you’re hideous. So ugly.”

The anxiety I’d been trying so hard to turn upward, into excitement — we are, after all, leaving in the morning for a weekend with Amma, and I should be happy, not in the misery of fear and anxiety — suddenly seemed deserving of compassion. Is anyone truly compassionate who is so mean to herself? So instead of trying to change my anxiety into happiness, I just looked at myself and thought, “You poor baby, you’re okay, you can be loved.”

And the attack stopped.

I mean, my leg’s still bouncing, but that’s okay; I’m not fucking suffering. I’m so ashamed of my disorder; I am one of the world’s most fortunate and lucky people. I’m never hungry, never cold, never afraid of real things. I’m not sick, I’m not in pain, I have free time and I get to sleep until I wake up every day, but I suffer. A made-up, not real suffering I judge myself for.

~+~
Okay, turns out that was a lie. It didn’t stop, it just eased off. It’s trying to come back now, the “Oh! I feel dizzy! Weak! My fingers are numb! There must be something wrong with me. Oh, I’ll never be able to travel like this.” The fear, fear, fear.

I so don’t want to develop fucking agoraphobia. I’m at the point now where just standing waiting for the light to change on Lyndale makes me twitch and bounce and tap.

But it’s okay that I’m afraid. It’s okay to have sensations. It’s okay to be fat, 48, frequently idle, and nervous. It’s okay, Michelle, you’re okay. Not everybody is the judgemental asshole you are; lots of people can look at you without disgust, even. You have a disorder lots of people have. You hardly do it on purpose. And, before you object, you do try to mitigate it! You do walk, bike, stretch, meditate. You have maybe a cup of coffee per day; you rarely eat sugar; your vape juice is only 6mg.

Remember hormones, too: it was only a 26-day cycle. Very short. Who knows what’s going on with those hormones, eh?

…I wish I didn’t have to work tonight; I should have taken it off. Oh, well, it’s only four hours, and right here at my own desk. But it would be better if, after Scott gets home, we could eat, pack, and nap until the unreasonably early taxi pick-up.

Oh, I want a cuddle so much just now, but I’ll soldier on and put the laundry in the dryer instead.

Today

June 20th, 2017 | Posted by Mush in Life - (0 Comments)

In which I ate out.

My mister has the crud and stayed home from work today. We spent all day napping and cuddling. I didn’t manage to get into the shower until four in the afternoon!

Put on some old kohl eyeliner, because why not. Threw on some Thai fisherman’s pants, tossed my traveler’s journal crap into my backpack, and waddled over to Eat Street.

Little Tijuana

I think I thought I was headed for Bad Waitress Diner, but I ended up at Little Tijuana instead, where the food is mediocre but filling and the staff are nice as hell. Ate, doodled on the butcher paper they use for tablecloths, and journaled. Waddled home an hour later.

Opened the fridge to grab some cream for my iced coffee and oh my but the stench was serious! My pinto beans had gone off; not sure why, because I regularly keep them in the fridge for a week or more, but there you were: stinky beans. Had to pour them down the toilet.

It’s my night off so I should be doing something, but I’m just sitting at my desk fucking about on the internet. I’d like to go to a pub quiz but they’re all on Mondays, and I always work Mondays. Might just go sit in a coffee shop or something; really should get out and enjoy the neighborhood while the temperature is reasonable.

In which I’m just watching my mind be an asshole, because that’s what you do.

I smoked cigarettes for 30 years. I was at the point where my lungs felt dry, I couldn’t get a deep breath, and walking three blocks made me pant.

I quit smoking by switching to vaping, because patches and gum didn’t work, and I wasn’t willing to try Chantix. When I made the switch, I read everything I could find about vaping and determined that vaping was not zero-harm, but was most probably significantly lower harm than smoking.

That was a year ago. My lungs feel much, much better! I can walk to Pancho Villa’s and back without panting. My voice sounds better. I don’t think about smoking at all, and I think about vaping very little: when leaving the house I no longer feel compelled to bring my nicotine delivery system, I just go. It’s great.

The other day I read a Skeptical Raptor round-up about vaping. The take-away was, essentially, we don’t know what, if any, harms are associated with vaping, really, but it does seem like you might maybe possibly be exposing yourself to more formaldehyde than you should. Aaaaaand my stupid brain latched onto that, and I spent the rest of the day being afraid of vaping but doing it anyway. And like a tongue worrying a loose tooth, my mind is still trying to be upset about the topic and provide me not with solutions, but just vague dread and worry and self-pity. Nothing like, “Well, perhaps it’s time to set a plan for quitting vaping,” just vague dread. Nothing like, “Is your need to vape greater than your fear of possible formaldehyde over-exposure?” Just nervousness and anxiety and feeling bad.

Another example. Human hair sheds all the time, constantly. For me, about every 36 months I experience a few months of my hair shedding out more heavily than usual, probably because for some reason there are just a bunch of follicles on the same cycle, and because I’m vain and aging is weird, I dislike it. I mentioned my feels about hair shedding on social media yesterday and two people were all HAVE YOU CHECKED UR THYROID. So I rolled my eyes and went and looked up the information on hypo- and hyperthyroidism again, and yes, while I do have a number of the symptoms mentioned, half are from the hypo- side and the other half are from the hyper- side, so, yeah, no. It’s much more likely I’m subject to normal shedding cycles and, based on my older relatives’ hair, genes, thanks.

But now my stupid mind is trying to obsess over those “symptoms,” all of which are also consistent with hormonal changes typical to women of my age, while ignoring all the symptoms I don’t have and the fact that you can’t have a simultaneously over- AND underactive thyroid. It’s trying to give me an anxiety attack. Because it’s a bastard.

I’m not sick. Nothing hurts. My life is so nice that I never use an alarm clock! I sleep, every day, until I wake up naturally! I live a block or three from everything. I have incredibly fast fiber-to-the-home, money in the bank, and two vacations planned! I am pampered, lucky, well-cared for, and fine.

Except for my stupid mind, which wants me to have anxiety and panic attacks anyway. It wants me to be afraid of things over which I have no control, while frequently ignoring things I should be afraid of — it let me smoke for 30 years, unironically! It let me do cocaine, a street drug of unknowable dosage and provenance, for several years, without a peep of worry — and obsessing instead over dumb things! My mind is afraid of the regulated, properly-dosed OTC drugs you might buy to treat a bad cold, but was never worried about street drugs. Because it fucking sucks at risk-assessment and is irrational.

Conclusion: my mind is an idiot, and, because it never shows up when there’s actual statistical likelihood of danger (riding in a car, for example), anxiety is non-information and should always be ignored.

My traveler’s notebook

June 4th, 2017 | Posted by Mush in Writing - (1 Comments)

In which I’m just saying stuff I’ve already said because it’s Sunday afternoon and I have nothing better to do but repeat myself. I mean, this is literally just a re-do of a post I’ve already written, only with newer pictures!

Step one: Don’t have heard of Midori traveler’s notebooks or bullet journaling. Live in ignorant bliss.

Step two: Hear about Midori traveler’s notebooks and bullet journaling. Fall down a rabbit hole of Instagram, blogs, reviews, walk-throughs, YouTube videos, and stationery stores specializing in Japanese imports.

Step three: Judge the shit out of the entire thing. Be offended by the waste. People with stacks of journals, massive collections of pens, inks, adults with sticker sets, washi tapes! Tons of unnecessary crap! All you need is a single writing utensil and a $2 notebook!

Sticker set

Step four: End up a few months later with three notebooks, gel pens, pen cases, a large set of colored pencils, watercolor paints, binder clips, a set of highlighters, a cheap fountain pen, book darts, washi tapes, a washi tape dispenser, numerous inserts from several suppliers, kraft folders, sticker sets, writing boards, lead pencils, and repair kits, and feel like an asshole.

Especially about the off-brand stuff you no longer want you bought because it was cheaper than the name brand. Because honestly, the Midori stuff is superior. It really is so simple and well-designed and a pleasure to use.

MTN

Step five: Realize over and over that you adore your traveler’s notebook, and that it makes you happy every time you handle it or even see it. It’s taken months and a lot of switching things around, but you’ve finally got it just right. Admit that this particular rabbit hole has, yes, separated you from some of your disposable income, but it’s also provided you with hours of enjoyable writing, sketching, drawing, and painting.

It gets you offline.

You end up doing an Instagram doodle challenge, even though you have no artistic training or talent! It only takes a few minutes a day, and it’s fun!

Doodles

I now have four inserts in my MTN. The first one is a kraft paper folder for loose items and pad of Midori sticky notes. Then there’s a custom dot grid insert for my journal, a Midori monthly calendar insert for my work schedule and travel plans, and a ruled insert I use for my spiritual diary. I also have sticker pockets inside the front and back covers, a pen holder, an OM pendant off an old necklace, and a binder clip. The thing is finally exactly how I want it, and works for my needs.

TNs

I also have the knock-off September Leather cover I bought first, basically set up the same way (sticky notes and all) except it’s totally empty. I don’t need it and I don’t use it, and I’d happily give it away if I knew anybody who wanted it. The calendar insert is weekly, rather than monthly, but it’s basically a duplicate.

spring flowers in the rain

I do currently use a Midori insert for sketches and painting, but it’s not in a notebook because it’s easier when it’s flat. When I’ve filled it, I’ll get a block of regular watercolor paper unless my life is radically different than it is now and I’m on a massive travel schedule or something!

The wrong magics

May 31st, 2017 | Posted by Mush in Food | Introspection | Soapbox | Social - (0 Comments)

In which I continue to try to figure out why I care so much about people being wrong.

today in the shower i gave an imaginary person a lecture about chiropractic:

“chiropractic doesn’t do anything but separate people who can afford it from their money

“there are one or two adjustments that actually do something, apparently, but you can get those, when indicated, from any physical therapist. if you get them from the chiropractor, you probably didn’t need them anyway

“when people leave the chiropractor feeling better, it’s placebo. because most of the time they don’t go for the two demonstrably effective adjustments in chiropractic’s arsenal

“chiropractic is a scam, probably not a deliberate one (i’m sure most of its practitioners are sincere, if deluded by their training), but a scam nonetheless because we know that ‘subluxated’ bones don’t cause disease, period, and interesting but ineffective cracking sounds don’t get muscles to move bones ‘back’ where they ‘belong’

“the whole concept is bunk; i mean, it was a cool concept in its time. but, alas, a totally and completely wrong one

“point being you should probably spend your relaxation money on a licensed massage therapist, a sex worker, or an hour in a hot tub.

“and definitely avoid neck adjustments. once in a huge great while, if certain things come together in a certain way, you can be dead of the stroke caused by that neck adjustment even before nightfall!”

NOW:

since chiropractic is almost entirely harmless placebo, why do i care about it?

I DON’T KNOW

i don’t know why i care about any of the rest of it, either, from raw milk to chemtrails to alkaline diets

none of it affects me directly! it doesn’t matter! i don’t know anybody who is refusing chemo for kale ‘n’ chlorophyll smoothies, and if i did i’d probably be like, fine, if that’s how you want to die, i respect that, but please get yourself set up with palliative care asap

last night i got drunk on pinot grigio and wrote a post about raw milk or some shit, and apparently posted it without a title or anything, because some roos on facebook were telling me things that are all absolutely untrue, and drunk me HAD TO WRITE A THING but didn’t want to get in yet another pointless comment war with people who want to be wrong

plus i know it doesn’t matter

if you’re healthy and hale and want to drink raw dairy, fine, whatever, you’ll probably live,

but OMFG WHY DO YOU HAVE TO ARGUE SO FIERCELY WHEN YOU ARE DEMONSTRABLY FACTUALLY INCORRECT

i can show you these claims have all been refuted by experts!

and you’ll do what people do, you’ll say dumb shit about ‘dairy shills‘ and trot out baby-tier conspiracy theories in which pasteurization was not, in fact, a scientific breakthrough that made a measurably vast improvement on the quality of human life, but is, in fact, just like vaccines, THE MAN tryna PUT US DOWN

another friend recently started posting about chemtrails, of all things. CHEMTRAILS. the first time she did it i responded with “lol” because that’s what you do when you’re not crazy, but she wasn’t kidding

and IT DOESN’T MATTER, it’s ultimately harmless, really, if people want to believe that water vapor is a vast government conspiracy of mind control/poison/weather manipulation/insert batshit insane crazy nonsense here, and i don’t know why i give a shit

BUT I DO

it drives me nuts that people want to be stupid

it drives me nuts that people get so violently angry when you show them that what they believe is incorrect

it drives me nuts that people want to base their very identities on shit that isn’t even true

somebody got super pissed when i said the ‘50% of marriages end in divorce trope’ was never true. i remember enjoying having learned something new, when i learned that stat was a lie, but other people do not enjoy learning something they’ve “always known” is wrong. it infuriates them and they attack you like their very lives are in danger, which, according to brain scientists, is how it feels, i guess

whenever i find myself repeating something ‘everyone knows’ i tend to go look it up now, because a bunch of it is wrong. the divorce rate peaked at 40% in the 80’s and has been in decline ever since. the average human utilizes about 64 ounces of water a day, but it comes from the food and drink we consume so there’s never been any need to pour an additional 8 glasses of water down your gullet. body heat radiates from everywhere equally, not mainly from one’s head. glass is not a liquid, it’s an amorphous solid. if you touch a baby bird to put it back in its nest, its mother will not reject it.

and so on.

i have given up “believing” anything at all about, for example, human diet. i was rabidly low-carb for awhile, but humans ate carbs for ten thousand years before the obesity epidemic started, so it’s not just carbs, or even refined carbs, because we were eating those for hundreds of years before we all got fat, so i just don’t know. and it’s okay for me not to know.

i used to believe that vegetarians were healthier and longer-lived because some diet book or another told me so when i was 20-something, but since then i’ve learned that those things are not true.

and in general i don’t care what you eat, unless it’s something stupid, like smoothies

other friends of mine post their morning beverages on instagram and they have an old-fashioned juicer that spits out the fiber pulp of the fruits and vegetables they’re juicing (so they’re basically drinking sugar) and they drink chlorophyll daily and “believe” it’s healthy

except it’s just another health food trend in an almost infinite line of them that does nothing measurable but get your cash out of your wallet rather neatly

but they’re very healthy people with low risk factors and they do use the fiber in their diets elsewhere so it probably doesn’t matter IN ANY SIGNIFICANT WAY if they feel their morning juicing ritual is good for them, but it just makes my fingers itch

because at best it does nothing, and at worst it gives one of them type 2 diabetes since taking the sugar out of whole fruits and vegetables and ingesting it all at once causes blood sugar spikes normally regulated by the fiber the juicer takes out and if you’re going to take risks shouldn’t they at least be in the form of wine or downhill skiing or something fun rather than a beverage ritual done because people think it’s “healthy”?

if i’m going to have that much sugar, it’s not going to be some fruit and vegetable combo that tastes like sweet dirt, it’s going to be a chocolate malt. at least the dairy fat may mitigate the sugar the tiniest bit, and i’m not going to delude myself into thinking it’s “healthy”

“healthy” is the opposite of diseased. it’s not something you can get better at. like, if you’re healthy, you’re not going to get somehow “healthier” if you do a few weird things to your diet

i take no supplements. zero. none. haven’t for a decade at least, because i learned that they do nothing at best, and poison you at worst, plus they’re expensive and i’d prefer to spend my money on pinot grigio and chrome baskets for my bicycle and vacations

DOES IT MATTER IF PEOPLE BUY SUPPLEMENTS THAT DON’T DO ANYTHING AND ARE GENERALLY HARMLESS?

um, no, i have to say, no, it doesn’t really matter

they can afford it, it makes them feel like they’re doing something, most supplements aren’t toxic or anything (although some are, and will fucking put you in organ failure)

it just BUGS THE SHIT OUT OF ME anyway

why is my species so gullible, so prone to magical thinking about the wrong magics, so fiercely violent when you tell them they’re incorrect?

and why do i care?

I DON’T KNOW!

i “believe” less and less as time goes by, but the world isn’t less magical. i don’t know much of anything about “being healthy” because NOBODY promulgating diet advice ACTUALLY DOES. i don’t take pills or drink smoothies or buy kale, because those are all dumb fads.

fermenting? well, i don’t know, and neither do you. the WHO says it’s linked to stomach cancer, so maybe ferment with restraint and very, very, very clean equipment. the discovery of a second ‘brain’ in the gut does not necessarily equate with anything going on in the fermenting movement. the bacteria that like to eat the sugars in your ferments are not necessarily the ones you want in your gut biome, plus a lot of the bacteria you eat don’t survive the acids in your stomach, plus some of your biome is yeasts, plus nobody knows yet, and probably won’t in this lifetime, so what you ‘believe’ about your ‘healthy’ ferments and your gut biome is mostly made-up nonsense and your results are more likely to be placebo than anything you’re actually doing

what i do is eat a varied diet of less-processed foods and monitor my caloric intake. brown rice, whole wheat flour, beans and legumes. lots of fat, because fat is delicious. i do not drink 64 oz. of water daily, but i do have at least a glass.

i’m overweight, which we know increases numerous risk factors, so i assume my diet and lifestyle are not ideal. but it’s also true that every female relative i have looked about like this at my age, so there’s definitely strong genetics here as well, and hey, most of them are very long-lived anyway. and i prefer moderated enjoyment of a variety of foods over fear and guilt and magic rituals involving blenders or fermenting jars.

so, most of what everybody ‘believes’ is harmless, even if it’s wrong, and i know that but it’s DRIVING ME NUTS to be constantly bombarded with bullshit. no, milk is not filled with pus. no, vaccines do not cause autism. no, kale isn’t a ‘superfood,’ because ‘superfood’ is a flawed concept to begin with (if you have scurvy, a lemon is a superfood; the rest of the time it’s just a lemon. kale has never cured anything, as far as we know, except hunger, temporarily). no, the alkaline diet does not cure cancer. no, chelation therapy is not effective ‘against’ autism. no, vegans aren’t healthier. no, no, no. i know it doesn’t matter that you’re wrong, but you are, and it drives me nuts that you WANT TO STAY THAT WAY.

your mind is the only tool you have. the only one. you cannot get enlightened without a mind. you NEED the fucking thing functioning properly, which means you need to be able to use it to discriminate between reality and unreality, truth and lie, fact and fiction. letting it fill up with shit is just a bad idea, i guess. clear it out, throw that shit away, just be with what is, rather that what you think you need in order to shore up your ego. get rid of beliefs rather than collect them.

be wrong.

let go.

listen.

May 30th, 2017 | Posted by Mush in Soapbox - (1 Comments)

retweeted a statistic about how the vast majority of dairy-related illnesses are due to raw dairy products

(probably the trendy ones, drunk by hipsters and science-haters, rather than, you know, actual dairy farmers or small-holders drinking the stuff in their ranch houses, because with their knowledge they’re highly unlikely to poison themselves, amirite)

and now people on social media are telling me dumb shit about how ‘all factory farmed milk has pus in it!’ (no, it doesn’t, because ‘pus’ isn’t a thing) and ‘nobody ever got sick from raw milk!’ (lol, clearly not true, bro) and pasteurization kills essential nutrition and

OMG THE STUPID

not only do we know that raw dairy, improperly handled, which is super likely when the market is so far from the consumer, makes people sick, but

it takes literally fractions of a second to learn about the modern dairy industry’s checks and balances (here’s a single example about how romantic notions about milk are wrong) plus,

WHOA THE FDA EXISTS

Ye fuckin’ gawds i just can’t

EVEN

the chiropractics

the naturopathics

the anti-vax

the vegans and smoothie-drinkers and pseudo-yoga practitioners (yoga is a method of enlightenment, not an exercise regime, for fuck’s sake)

the ‘cure cancer with alkaline diets’ crazies…

WHY ARE WE SO WILLING TO BE DUMB WHEN WE HAVE SO MUCH KNOWLEDGE

yes, i’d love absolutely fresh diary, i guess. if i had a cow or goat and milked her myself, well, i’d drink it unpasteurized, if i had total control over the entire supply chain, from her udder to my face

(but seriously, i don’t want to breed them every season or two and figure out what to do with the calves or kids and i know from my aunt that quadrupeds are not inexpensive to keep healthy and i live in a fucking uptown apartment so the odds of my ever having access to FRESH raw milk is NONE)

and if i left the pail out in the sun for half an hour while fucking with my laundry or some shit, i’d probably heat it before consuming it, because fuck puking, really

…but commercial raw dairy? even from earnest, small producers? um, not so much. i prefer my milk pasteurized and unhomogenized. because even earnest, small producers cannot guarantee that their milk is held in perfect conditions at all times, from the teat to my fridge, unless they bring the shit to my house themselves.

when there’s a simple, effective method for killing any potential contaminants that does not measurably alter milk’s nutrients, why not use it?

oh, but MUSH, heating the milk destroys the nutrition!

does it, then? um, no. no, there’s no evidence that’s true, meaningfully. i mean, maybe someday there will be methods for proving that supposition, but today, no. the money’s on not poisoning yourself when you don’t have to.

plus, what’s wrong with heating the stuff? don’t we heat our milk more often than not, using it in coffee, in recipes?