Well...there it was.
In the "Health" section of one of the big
national newspapers was an article that
says fat fockers are getting short shrift
at the doctors office.
There was even a picture of a fat focker
above the fold in full color and they took
great pains to only show the face. Maybe
they couldn't get any more flesh in the
picture, and they did their level best to hide
the womans double, or maybe even triple
chin.
(I think they airbrushed some zits off her
face too.)
She is the local Vice President... of the...
(get this), National Association to Advance
Fat Acceptance.
I was so impressed with her argument I
just had a bumper sticker made up that
says: LOVE YOUR LOCAL FAT FOCKER!
The article prattles on about how these
buffet molesters are mistreated by the
current medical establishment, who blame
all their ills on the fact that they are a touch
smaller than a hippopottamus.
Okay, I get it, they don't think there is anything
wrong with being fat, and fat is not responsible
for their medical problems.
I can't vouch for doctors, but I have a little
personal experience with Lardassians working
for me.
The first was a woman who was at least a
hunnert pounds overweight, maybe more.
She had foot problems, leg problems, back
problems; in otherwords she had more problems
than you could shake a stick at. She had at
least five surgeries that I knew of, and many
other procedures as well. After a morning
colonoscopy she treated us all to an impromptu
afternoon symphony. When she wasn't laid up
with one of her problems she did good work, in
fact, it was better than good. But she was only
productive seven or eight days a month.
The second was also a woman who was, as
they say, "bout as wide as she was tall." She
brought a picnic for six with her every day to work,
and always left some thousand calorie snack on
my desk. (Some of which were DYN O MITE!)
She had heart and kidney problems, and also
missed a lot of work. Her kidney problem got
extremely bad, and she had to take more than
a year off.
The third experience was with a salesman, who
we called "Biggie." He was a helluva salesman,
and as he liked to joke, "If you ain't got any
spaghetti sauce on your shirt, you ain't working."
Biggie dropped dead in the middle of lunch one day.
So I'm not big on "Fat Acceptance."
Fat fockers cost the medical system billions of
buckaluckas each and every year. They net to
get up off their couch potato tush and do some
exercise. The need to trash all the potato chips
and soda, and eat real food. They need to stop
clogging the doctors office and their own arteries.
A few years ago I was forty five pounds overweight.
My doctor to get off my fat S and get moving. I did
what he told me, and I lost the weight. I have never
put it back on.
You can do anything you really want to do in this
life if you get your mind straight. Fat fockers just
need to fix their minds first. Their bodies will follow.
From the big saddle,
Jim Whelan
P.S. If you want a fair shake, get one of those new
vibrating machines. Word has it they really work to
help drop the lard. Or go on a half S diet. Just eat
half of what you normally do. It works.
You may not agree, but you always know where to
find the Cowboy. 206 407 3124
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