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Sorry to start your week with bad news. We’ll go ahead and post two at once while we’re at it.
First, from Richard B.
If this were an episode of a crime show, people would call the network to complain. If this were a story in a school library, parents would demand that it be removed. It’s appalling.
But it’s true. And it raises a question: which is the worse illness? Anorexia, or trafficking in misery?
Three out of four young women dislike their bodies.
One in three hopes to become a fashion model.
One in five diagnosed with anorexia will be dead within 20 years.
Last year, the U.S. women’s clothing industry took in $111 billion.
Many people enjoy long, active lives without a conscience.
And then we learned from Joanne D. that Chicago’s mayor now wants to sell ad space on our recycling bins. What’s next? On our schools? Check out the link for more info and a petition.
I was organizing my papers (something which is now a full time job and brings enormous satisfaction and wastes a lot of time which I could use in doing something useful, but I love it) when I came across a brochure from a motel/restaurant called “The Gobbler” in Wisconsin. The building itself is shaped like a turkey’s head and the windows are its eyes. The restaurant’s interior was (how can it still exist?) wall-to-wall carpet covered with tiny pastel turkeys. There was a raised bar covered in shag carpeting which revolved slowly, perfectly timed for nausea.
We had traveled for hours looking for the perfect restaurant and finally the four of us, famished, drove in and took a table. I ordered my favorite meal: turkey with gravy, mashed potatoes and stuffing. It arrived cold. I sent it back, receiving a dirty look from the waitress. When I got it back the second time it was still ice cold. I passed it to a male friend who was known to eat anything. He ate it. I took the empty plate back and put it in front of me.
The waitress came back and glared at me, “I know what you did.”
Donna sent me this email in response to my “Gobbler” brochure.
I am delighted to have the memento of The Gobbler. Thank you. Thinking back on that day reminds me of one of my important rules for life: If one is brave enough to go beyond “pretty bad experience” into the territory of “too dreadful for words” one is likely to wind up with a memory worth keeping.