The mysterious Canada Food Guide 2019
by Robert LaFrance
I am
sure happy that we have weather because we can always find something to talk
about. Ed and Sam, who haven’t seen each other for six months, met at the post
office and sure enough they talk for six minutes and then start in on the
weather, the one thing they CAN do something about.
However,
they rarely do, except that sometimes one of them packs up and heads for
Florida where it is hotter than the hubs of hell. Then that guy complains about
the heat and decides to head back to New Brunswick where Old Man Winter is just
getting serious.
Such
was the case with Sam, who flew to Florida with his wife Helga in early
December and returned home just when the average night-time temperature here
was around minus 25 Celsius and the wind had just emerged from a bit of a sleep
up behind Mount Carleton. Helga’s curses could have been heard in Tilley
although they live in the Scotch Colony now.
“What
kind of an idiot would go to Florida when it was fairly warm in New Brunswick
and then come back to New Brunswick just when the Polar Vortex was arriving in
Upper Kintore?” she asked rhetorically. Sam refrained from reminding her that
she must be equally an idiot because she did that very thing. From sad
experience, he had learned that being right rarely resulted in anything other
than pain and sorrow.
Speaking
of winter, I am getting rather tired of people coming on television to tell me
to dress in layers. Is there another way? They never explain what they mean
other than it is apparently a way of saying “dress warmly”.
Another
of the great traditions of winter is the superstition that a rodent comes out
of the ground on February 2nd and can predict whether we will have
another six weeks of winter.
Really?
Anyone living in New Brunswick and thinking there will only be six more weeks
of winter needs his head examined.
Speaking
of Donald Trump, is there any way those poor Americans can get rid of that in a
mere six weeks? Even the major media outlets like CNN, Washington Post and New
York Times must be getting really really tired of that dangerous buffoon in
spite of the fact that he has provided thousands of journalistic jobs during
the past two years.
Every
time he breathes the media are on it. Come on, everyone knows he wouldn’t be
president if Russia hadn’t guided his campaign from start to finish, but they
either have to impeach him or put up with him for another two years. Good luck.
**********************
I
didn’t finish my comments about Groundhog Day and I know the faithful reader is
waiting for that. This morning I was taking some exercise down by the garage
when I heard a rattling sound coming from underneath our blue recycling bin. At
first I thought it might be a raccoon or possibly a tough porcupine, but as I
watched, a brown body emerged head-first. How much snow could a woodchuck chuck
you might ask? Well, this woodchuck/groundhog could certainly chuck a whack of
it.
He
came out swearing and looked around at the sunny day. “Damn!” he said. “Another
month and a half of this sh*t! Why don’t you people move to Florida anyway? I
have to stay to make this prediction every year, but they make buses, trains,
cars and planes every day. You could be sitting in Tampa by tomorrow
afternoon.” And with that, he swore at his shadow and crawled back under the
recycling bin. I went back to my favourite living room chair and thought about
what he had said.
A
quick online scan of my bank account answered the groundhog/woodchuck’s
question. If my bank account had been interactive it probably would have said:
“Turn on the TV, you ain’t going down south unless you’re thinking about
Maugerville. Or you could borrow some money from your cousin in Amherst and
maybe get as far as Truro.”
*****************
This
last section of my column I will devote to talking about all the excitement
generated by the latest Canada Food Guide. I know I was thrilled and just about
everyone at the club was talking about it.
“I
wonder what it means?” asked the Perfessor. “Five years ago they were telling
Canadians to lay off the egg yolks because they are nothing but cholesterol and
now they are telling us to drink more vodka and eat more eggs and we’ll live to
be a hundred.”
“I
believe you’re referring to the Canadian Club pamphlet that the bartender (Hot
Ted the women call him, just as a 375 pound man is called Tiny),” I commented.
“A company that makes whiskey – or is it whisky? – can’t be relied on to
recommend good choices in the way of nutrition.”
So we
argued for a while about egg yolks, now considered quite acceptable, and other
food now banned from the Canada Food Guide 2019 lists and didn’t find any sense
there at all, but we drank quite a bit of beer while doing it.-end-
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