Modernity never ceases to amaze me in its incredible thoroughness. There just doesn't seem to be any tiny corner of human life that it hasn't managed to poison.
And I think it is clear that what Modernity has done to food, "poison" can be taken literally.
I think it's very significant that the woman talks (in possibly the most annoying, nasal American accent I've ever heard) about the traditional methods of food preservation. Now, ask yourself how this was possible. Who was doing the food preparation and preservation, and how did they learn these skills? Women today do not know how to cook even with the inferior processed foods available to them. Their domestic skills are limited to ironing their suit blouses before work.
It is clear that the degeneration of food-related domestic skills, and therefore the good health of children, men and future generations, is yet another victim of the feminist revolution. No one is feeding the family, and the "obesity crisis" is the result.
And the word, "convenience" is starting to become my most-hated word in the English language. I remember once talking to a young man I knew who was complaining about the expense of running his car. He also complained that he was gaining weight because he wasn't getting enough exercise. I observed that in the eleven years I had lived in Vancouver, the city had become almost uninhabitable, hellish, because of the increase of the number of cars, private vehicles, on the roads. I think the government issued a notice that the number had increased about 65% in the first five of those years. I suggested that since he didn't have steady employment, and since he lived in a city with an excellent and cheap public transit system, that he get rid of his car.
He said, "Well, it's convenient." And I think he meant that to be such a sound argument that no further disagreement was possible. And in a way he was right. He had made it clear that nothing, not money, nor his interest (which was real) in the environmental damage cars are doing in cities nor even his health, nor any other thing topped "convenience" on his list of priorities.
We are addicted to it, but it is convenience that is, literally, killing us.
~
A woman who can't cook or sew is useless.
ReplyDeleteOh, William, you always say the sweetest things!
ReplyDeleteI lived without a car for a few months back in the winter. There is a train stop right near my house, but the commute still took approximately three hours each way (into the city, going from one train terminal to the other terminal on the other side of the city, waiting around for the not-frequently running trains, then walking a half-mile to work).
ReplyDeleteHands down, it was one of the most unhealthy things I've gone through in my life. With a car, my commute is about a half-hour each way. It's not "convenience" so much as saving my sanity (and my job, which I was on the verge of leaving, even though I didn't have another one lined up).
~bridget
Convenience, at least when it comes to food IS killing us.
ReplyDeleteI've told this story to several friends:
About 10 years ago, my sister-in-law, who was a kindergarten teacher, invited me to a "Pampered Chef" party (kitchen products) that one of her co-workers was having. We were the first to arrive. As my SIL's other co-workers came in, I was more and more shocked -- these women were ALL hugely overweight. I remember thinking that the neighbors must be thinking we were having an Overeaters Anonymous meeting. One woman was so large that she took up an entire loveseat. I'm not thin, and wasn't then, but I was positively sylph-like compared to these women.
The party began, and the hostess asked how many of us enjoyed cooking. To my shock, my SIL and I, by far the least hefty, were the only ones to raise our hands.The other women complained out loud: "I HATE cooking!" "Get them take-out!" "I use instant everything because I can't stand being over the stove!" As I looked around, the relationship between hating to cook, going for convenience foods, and tremendous weight gain became very, very clear.
Lorena B.