I’m a carnivore, and by that, I mean that I only eat animal products such as meat, eggs, and unsweetened full fat milk products. I don’t eat any plants other than as condiments and I don’t drink any liquids other than a cup of unsweetened coffee with butter or a glass of water. I’m 70 years old, walk 9000 steps a day, and don’t take meds, never did, other than the occasional azithromycin when a bad cough won’t go away. To me, this is simply making sure I’ll be around many more years for my young bride and our children. They’re still in grade school. Our children, not my bride! And we expect that I will be the father of more children soon.
But rather than present an article on how Big Ag (Big Agriculture) is killing us, aided and abetted by the Doctatorship, I’ll do what I do best, I’ll tell a story, to deliver an important message about your health. I hope you’ll enjoy this excerpt from Ron and Bruno. Ron is the main character in this novel and Mika is his love interest. Ron is close to 70 years old and Mika, age unknown, is likely in her mid-twenties.
Ron and Bruno: Against the Doctatorship
Copyright © 2024 Don Milton All Rights Reserved
“So, this is how you stay young.” Mika said, pointing with her lips, Filipino style, to the food on the table.
“Hey, don’t waste your pucker on a plate of food.” I scolded.
“Yes, sir.” She said, then kissed me. “So is this your fountain of youth?”
“Do you object?” I asked.
“Oh no.” She said. “I love fatty foods and I distrust doctors. I distrust them as much on food as I distrust them on vaxes.”
“That’s saying a lot.” I said.
Then I shoveled in a mouthful of beef, eggs, and salsa, topped with a slice of jalapeno.
“And Ancel Keys?” She said. “He was just one man, but he outdid the doctatorship in the number of deaths his recommendations caused.”
“I’m glad you know about him. Yes, he was a villain.” I said.
Then I took another bite of my food.
“Imagine,” Mika said, “with his cherry-picked Seven Countries Study, Keys got the U.S. Government to publish guidelines that were the exact opposite of a healthy diet.”
“Yes, he was a monster.” I said. “He’s probably responsible for more deaths than Mao, Stalin, and Hitler combined.”
Mika finished what she was chewing and then leaned forward as if she were about to share a juicy piece of gossip.
“And the irony, Ron, is his cousin, I shouldn’t laugh, but his cousin, was Lon Chaney Jr., who played monsters in movies. But Ancel Keys was the real-life monster.”
“Wow, I hadn’t realized his cousin was Lon Chaney Jr. They used to play his old movies at double features when I was a kid. He was the first Wolfman.”
“Yes, Ron. And what I think most people in America still don’t know, is that diets high in grains are what’s killing them. Ancel Keys’ fraudulent Seven Countries Study convinced America’s medical regulators to side with sugar over fat, and grains full of pesticides over meat. And look what it’s done.”
“I’d rather not.” I said. “I’m not a chubby chaser.”
“Hahaha!” Mika broke into one of her melodious laughs. I could have watched her joyous face and listened till she ran out of wind. But she stopped after one stanza.
“Ahem. Sorry for that.” She said. “But I hadn’t heard chubby chaser till today. But I love it, Ron. How dare you criticize people who are going to drop dead from diabetes by following their doctor’s advice. That’s like telling a drunk they need detox. In today’s America, we’re supposed to let them keep killing themselves by taking advice from the doctors whose advice made them fat.”
“Yes, and Ancel Keys’ victims don’t even know his name or even of his existence, talk about a silent killer. There were three fat kids in the three sixth grade classes at my elementary school, Mika. That was back in the day, when meat was the biggest part of what we ate. So one in 30 kids were fat. And I still remember their names: Pat, Bob, and Ross. Today’s grade schoolers would have to remember the names of over half the kids in their school to know the names of all the fat kids. But enough of fat talk. Let’s get skinny.”
It wasn’t long before Mika and I finished our food, so I slid out the tray from the cart that contained the second course: herb-roasted lamb. It had been simmering on a hotplate. Next to it was a basket of mint sauce, egg-lemon sauce, garlic butter, and other condiments. The colorful condiments made it look more like we were finger painting each other’s lips than sharing bites. But unlike the feeding flirtations on our wedding flight, we were now alone, and our senses were heightened to a whole nother level. And the bed, fit for a king, was waiting to prove it could awaken our appetites even more than our carnivore platters of food.
The timer on the automated coffee maker chimed like the bell in an MMA match. End of round one. Refresh yourselves before round two. But unlike an MMA match, we wouldn’t care who pinned down who.
Mika drained her first cup of coffee as quickly as I did. It made sense. Anyone who’s gone to graduate school knows most students would never graduate without high doses of caffeine. This was my first cup since waking up after our nap and it felt great. We drank our second cup slower and talked about things that didn’t matter, the color of the curtains, the designs on the headboard, the feel of the carpet. Then Mika reached up to my ears and said:
“May I?”
I nodded.
Mika removed my hearing aids and placed them in the charger on the nightstand, then she came back and nodded to me.
I didn’t need to know sign language. The signal was clear. She took my hand and we walked to the shower that sprayed from all sides.
Our bed would soon get another chance to prove its sleep-inducing effect. But I was sure it would be powerless over our newlywed glow and Seattle’s high-octane coffee.
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