Father, Engineer, SCUBA Instructor.
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First it was "global warming" but then the warming stopped (see climate hiatus). Then they switched to "climate change" but that never really had much of a punch to it so they moved on to "global climate disruption." “Climate crisis" finally won out but isn't really going anywhere so now they toss in "climate emergency" and "climate justice" every once in awhile to add a little variety. Stay tuned. The next apocalyptic catchword is likely on the way.
"Much of what is called 'social problems' consists of the fact that intellectuals have theories that do not fit the real world. From this, they conclude that it is the real world which is wrong and needs changing."
— Thomas Sowell
The myth: Dr Atkins, the steak-and-butter man, dropped dead of a heart attack. His own diet got him in the end.
What actually happened: he slipped on an icy pavement outside his Manhattan clinic, cracked his head, and died nine days later of the brain injury. The thing that killed him was a frozen pavement.
Then came the cleanup. A leaked medical examiner's note, handed to the press by a vegetarian campaign group, said he weighed 258 pounds at death. Proof of obesity, they crowed. He had weighed 195 on admission. The other sixty-odd pounds were fluid, pumped into a man who had spent nine days comatose in intensive care. They photographed a balloon and called it a lifestyle.
He did have a weak heart, as it happens, a cardiomyopathy left by a viral infection. His arteries, on the angiogram, ran clean. Even his heart trouble was the opposite of the clogged-artery disease they wanted to blame on his dinner.
None of it touched the diet, in either direction. He fell on some ice. That is the whole story.
But "the meat doctor's heart gave out" travels a great deal faster than "he slipped over in February," which is the only reason you ever heard the first one.
We can all learn from Hector's philosophy on fear.
Hector is a horse, which is to say he was born afraid. A flight animal, every nerve tuned to run from noise and crowds and sudden movement, the way every horse has been tuned for millions of years.
He was not born brave. He practised.
Year after year he met the thing that frightened him, the bands and the crowds and the saluting guns, and chose, on purpose, to stand. He built his courage the way anyone builds anything worth having, one difficult morning at a time, until the standing became who he was.
That is the first half of it, and most people stop there. Here is the second half.
After seventeen years of holding the line for everyone else, Hector learned the harder thing, which is that the war was over, and that he was finally allowed to lie down in the sun and sleep.
Stand when standing is the work. Rest when the work is done.
Be like Hector. Practise your courage. And know when to put the weight down.
Your government will cheerfully let you:
- Drink until your liver waves a white flag
- Smoke forty a day for fifty years
- Inhale a kebab at 3am with a fistful of chips and a fizzy drink the colour of antifreeze
- Eat ultra-processed gunge until you're diabetic at thirty-four
- Swallow pills with a side-effects leaflet folded like a road map
- Get inked by a bloke called Spider in a garage that smells of Dettol and regret
- Hurl yourself out of a perfectly good aeroplane
- Climb a frozen mountain that kills experienced men every year
- Pay good money to swim with sharks
But there is one substance so dangerous, so reckless, that a grown adult cannot be trusted with it:
- Milk. From a healthy cow. On a clean farm. The next village over.
They'll wave you onto the skydive and the shark cage, then step in to save you from a glass of the stuff your great-grandparents drank every single morning of their lives.
Funny, that.
Let me tell you what every population does the moment it comes into money.
I mean every single one of them. Every continent, every culture, no exceptions.
Japan in the 1950s. South Korea in the 1970s. China in the 1980s. Brazil in the 1990s. Vietnam in the 2000s. Every economy that has clawed its way up in the last hundred years has done the identical thing.
The first thing they spend the new money on is animal protein. Meat, dairy, eggs. Steak, pork, chicken, milk. The oat milk and the lab-grown burger from the Californian startup never get a look in.
And in every case, within a single generation, the children come out taller. The old illnesses of going without fade away, and in their place arrive the illnesses of plenty, which turn up hand in hand with the sugar, the refined flour, the seed oils, the processed food and the sitting down all day that prosperity also delivers. The meat rode all the way up the income curve alongside the extra height and the longer lives, which makes it a curious thing to point the finger at.
The people lecturing us to eat like the poor villages their families escaped are almost never the ones who actually grew up in them.
The ones who did are sitting down to steak.
They can taste the difference between an ideology and a dinner.
The problem isn't who spends 4-8 years in the White House.
The problem is who spends 30-40 years in Congress.
Congressional term limits are badly needed.