WDR May Cause Obesity, but We Didn't Cause Thanksgiving

You can blame the Indians for that.


It's that time of the year again, folks. Halloween's over, and sloooooow down there Wal-Mart, it's not Christmas yet. No, seriously. Knock it the fuck off. If Santa isn't squeezing his fat ass down my chimney for over a month then you need to get that shit out of the stores. Look at me when I'm talking to you. MY FACE IS UP HERE, WAL-MART. UP HERE.

Well, now that we have that unpleasantness out of the way, on to the festivities! I'm sure you all noticed that today was Thanksgiving. If you didn't, well then you're either a god damned communist and you need to get the hell out of my country, or you're a Native American and again, I am so.. so sorry. But regardless of any of these scenarios, chances are that you got to stuff your face today. Hell, I'm over 7 hours from even friends, and roughly twice that from family, and I still managed to force twice my daily intake down my throat (and digest most of it).

This year, I did something a little different with my Thanksgiving fare though. Usually I'm a traditionalist here: Turkey, gravy, cranberries, mashed potatoes, and pumpkin pie. Delicious. There's nothing more American than that combination of food, even though Americans eat it at most twice a year. There was just something different about this year. I can't put my finger on it. Maybe it's not having anyone I associate with close enough for actual human interaction, maybe it's my roommate having left without driving me to the grocery store, maybe it's that my apartment building vaguely reminds me of a mental hospital, or maybe it's just that I'm one lazy son of a bitch. The point here is... wait, what was I talking about? Oh right, Thanksgiving feasts.

My fine feast this year was a bit unorthodox, but I recommend it to anyone who's just not feeling up to holiday pressure... or has decided to commit suicide the hard way. The meal came in four courses:

1. Macaroni Salad

I don't really know how I ended up with this stuff. Some combination of only being able to buy what I could carry and my hatred of shopping alone led to me walking out of the store with this classic. I've said it before, and I'll say it again: Macaroni Salad is twice as delicious as the putrid vomit it looks like.



2. Canned Soup

My roommate's strange obsession with buying canned soup (and I say "buying" because he picks up at least three cans every time we shop, but I have never seen him eat a single one). Either way, it was lying around so I tossed one in the microwave and gave it a shot.

My opinions on the mediocrity of soup remain unchanged. I'm sorry, I'll accept Tea for the flavored water is it, but at least it doesn't try to claim that it is a food.

3. Hot Pockets

There isn't really anything I have to add to this. Hot Pockets should be included in any Thanksgiving festastrophe.









4. Klondike Bars

Much like that damn owl from those old Tootsie Pop commercials who makes a mockery of the age-old "how many licks does it take question", I simply walked two blocks to buy a box of Klondike Bars, but suffice it to say I would have performed rituals far more cruel and unusual for this delicious High Fructose sweet.




If I were a reasonable man, this would be the end of this post. All that Thanksgiving really was for me this year was eating this disturbing concoction of shit and watching the Hitchcock marathon on AMC. However, in the interest of nostalgia for "years gone by" I will entertain you with a story of a far better Thanksgiving. A Thanksgiving Of Legend, by which all other Thanksgivings shall be compared, and none shall live up to.

The year was 2003, and the place was Worcester, MA, a town truly as beautiful as its name--a factory town left behind by time, only there were never really any glory days for this hellhole. The occasion? ... Thanksgiving. I thought we already covered this. You should pay more attention.

The esteemed Mr. Ouzo had descended from his Ivy-ry tower and had decided to spend the holiday with me in what can only be described as "the filthiest room in the history of mankind." I had to scoop trash out of the way for him to have a place to sleep the first night before my roommate left. No joke. (Nic Ouzo: To tell you the truth, I didn't mind. But I can only imagine the carnage that was there before I arrived. This was a room that included an overturned bookshelf that was used as a convenient computer desk.)

The next few days were a blur, possibly due to the entertaining times, and possibly due to our diet consisting primarily of chips and soda procured from the local Price Choppa'. Also, if anyone is wondering, Goya brand Tamarind soda tastes like Nothing. Not water, but Nothing. Liquid Nothing. If you wanted to taste something that distilled the essence of pure neutrality, saddle up with a Tamarind-flavored Goya soda.

However, the real magic of the vacation came on Thanksgiving Day (not that aimlessly wandering around a campus tossing bottles for no memorable reason doesn't qualify as "real magic" but... well... it just doesn't). On Thanksgiving, the demand to have a meal that didn't consist primarily of ground corn took over, and Nic Ouzo and I embarked on an epic quest. Where did we go on this fine Thanksgiving in Worcester? Well, we tried many an establishment, but the only place that was open was a Denny's.

Now, the map we had in hand when we embarked on this journey is a bit misleading, because what I have neglected to mention thus far is that neither Ouzo nor I had a car (the van without a floor in the back that had been used to bring Nic to campus had gone on vacation). This lead to some difficulties with the - not one, but TWO - times in which these directions required us to cross the freeway. Let me tell you, there is nothing more fun than running across a freeway in the dark, on your way to a Denny's. Also, the map fails to properly represent just how damn hilly that whole area is, as more than half the journey was very steeply uphill. By the time we had made it to the Denny's - and it should be noted that we saw it just as we were giving up, the sign loomed over a hillside like a beacon to the promised land... or maybe just a moon over my hammy. We were just starving enough for that meal to be everything we had hoped it would be: Better than stale chips.

The strange thing was we didn't appreciate the absurdity of our journey until after we finished our halfway-delicious meal. The waitress came by with our check and asked us if this was a post-dinner meal of some sort, and only when we responded with a "well, this really was our Thanksgiving meal" did the nature of our situation dawn upon us. We slowly realized that yes indeed we did just spend the previous three days living on a diet that consisted solely of Dorito's and Dr. Pepper, in which time had no meaning since there was no light in the room and we slept at random hours. And that this had been our first human contact since Monday night.

So many kudos to you, Denny's. You will always be our go-to eating establishment when nothing better is open... and there aren't any Shari's nearby. ... so basically you're one step ahead of Arby's.


Happy Thanksgiving everyone, and I would like you to all remember what brought us where we are: Yams and Smallpox.

My Fat Ass Is Apparently Marked Al-Qaeda

Overlooked in all the talk about writers' strikes and college football madness, some news gets overlooked. No, we're not talking about Musharraf's declaration of martial law or Chavez's strong-arming his parliament into approving insane changes to Venezuela's constitution. Surprisingly, these stories have gotten some attention for once. No, I'm talking about our continued fight in The War On Terror®. Absent from all the joy of blasting away dirty foreigners, is a look into the terror that hides within our Great American Nation. And it's not even dirty foreigners hiding within our nation (Lou "Life With Louie" Dobbs certainly has that covered). No, I am talking about a far more insidious threat to our collective national security.

Your fat ass (and mine too).



We've known for years that there is apparently an obesity epidemic on hand, as our nation has caught FAT disease from handling too many dirty needles in the mid-80's (where were you, Clean Needle Programs, when we needed you most?!) We've even learned recently that obesity is contagious, liable to spread like wildfire (or at least a fire that tastes sticky and sweet, as if it were made of freshly made Krispy Kreme doughnuts. Commence drooling upon picturing said doughnuts in your mind...now). Hell, we even warned you about thinking of associating with this blog, yet you continue to defy logic and common sense and read. But that's only the tip of the iceberg.


That's because our collective fat asses constitutes a national security risk. That's according to former Surgeon General, Dr. Richard Carmona, who notes that it has become an impediment to armed services recruitment. We've become too fat to serve our country, apparently. And that's the only reason why the Army can't reach its recruitment goals, because who doesn't want to fight crazy wars? I mean, that's why I always bought G.I. Joe action figures. All this fatness then trickles down into diminishing our power in protecting our homeland, which essentially makes John Goodman Missouri's own Osama bin Laden.

Of course, we can turn this negative into a positive. We just have to be able to use our fat asses to our advantage. I was recently discussing this possibility with one of the friends-of-the-blog:

Von Bookman: and if we just start using fat people as weapons, this problem is solved
Nic Ouzo: fatbombs!
Nic Ouzo: I'm envisioning...
Nic Ouzo: catapults
Nic Ouzo: or, because we're all into neologisms
Nic Ouzo: fatapults
Von Bookman: excellent

Now, you may have to pardon me for taking this news with only a grain of salt. Let's consider the source for a second--Dr. Carmona is only known for being in essence a spineless political pawn for the Bush Administration, since his testimony to that effect was the only thing we ever heard from the guy. Let's face it, he's no C. Everett Koop (Dartmouth, Class of '37). Who is to say that he isn't continuing in this capacity? What, with youth participation in sports always at record highs, I simply think that this is just a ploy to breed a generation of super-soldiers by constantly worrying them about their physical appearance--well-balanced breakfast programs have given them super strength, while midnight basketball has taught them to function without sleep. And with this psychological trauma of reminding the kids of how fat they are, we can then meld them to kill on-command. It's brilliant.



Believe in your obesity conspiracy, folks. I'm just going to grab another piece of pie.

What're You Cacklin' At, Fatty? Too Much Pie, That's Your Problem

This is an urgent health update from WDR.

For all WDR's loyal followers, we have all noticed a terrifying trend. Yes, you know what I'm talking about, and as WDR's thinnest member, I felt it would be unfair to our readership to not divulge our full knowledge of the facts.

The rumors are true. There is no denying it. The secrecy must end. Reading WDR does in fact make you fat. It's proven. I'm sorry. For those of you already experiencing symptoms, I'm afraid it is too late. As detailed in a brilliant new, totally non-ridiculous, scientific study published in the New England Journal of Medicine, Obesity is indeed contagious. The study confirms that distance also plays no part in the stranglehold of this generation's fiercest opponent since Al Qaeda, or Commie: the Super Condom.

Every minute you spend reading this publication, you are in proven scientific fact becoming fatter and fatter. The unfortunate irresistibility of our hard-hitting to-the-point overly-informative dash-laden informa-commentary leaves no escape from our readers - if you read us, we will become a significant influence and role model; you could call us a friend. This would normally be fine, except that as the study shows, this wonderful fulfilling friendship will surely doom you to a life of obesity, and as high school surely taught you: Nobody likes the fat kid. Except of course for my modest colleague Mr. Ouzo, and WDR's fattest contributer: Mr. Zhuang. These two seemed to do just fine. In fact, come to think of it, I'm the thin one and I had no friends whatsoever. What's up with that? I think someone's fudging some numbers here, and I'm going to get to the bottom of it!


That investigation was both delicious and informative. You see, it turns out that the obesity scare in our country boils down to just a few silly little things:

1. STOP EATING SO GOD DAMNED MUCH

2. HEY, WHY DON'T YOU TRY MOVING AROUND A LITTLE?

3. TYPICALLY, IF SOMEONE HAS TO POUR MORE MONEY INTO CONVINCING YOU TO EAT THEIR PRODUCT THAN THEY SPEND MAKING IT, YOU SHOULDN'T EAT IT

4. TOO MANY INDUSTRIES THRIVE ON NATIONAL OBESITY BECAUSE CAPITALISM DOES A SHIT JOB DEALING WITH HEALTH.

Let me break down that last one for you there... Pharmaceuticals love obesity. There's a limitless potential for weight-loss drugs that they can sell to you, and since eating habits are such a fundamental element of human life it is really hard to effectively mandate preventative measures against obesity. Let's face it, the food that's the worst for you tastes the best - so when fast food and soda companies buy out your school system and require only their products be allowed to be sold on the premise... yeah, the kids are going to buy it. Let's not forget that if you can slip a couple addictive substances in there too, like say... caffeine... you'll easily keep a steady stream of profit coming your way. Oddly enough, the only industry that doesn't seem to like fat people is the insurance industry. If they have their way, pretty soon you won't even get covered anymore if you're overweight... oh! but wait! There's an easy solution for that too... That's right, they figured out they could charge you more if you're overweight! The problem inherent in all of this discussion is of course that in our wonderful capitalist country, there is no economic incentive to promote healthy eating habits, and so the feeble attempts at social outreach are drowned out by 24/7 McDonald's ads and an education institution owned by Pepsi.

So for those of you keeping score... just by reading this article you have submitted to a life of obesity, higher insurance premiums, caffeine addictions, weight-loss drugs, and regardless of what combination of the above cause it... congestive heart failure. I don't know about you, but I'm hoping those scientists discover a new pill for folks like you! If I were you, I'd start digging in my back yard right about now. I'm pretty sure that's where they found Alli, and let me tell you, that stuff is worth a few public defecations.