Oh no. I have been asked for dietary advice.

I am not qualified. I’ve never taken a nutrition course, I have no degree in the field, you should not take nutrition advice from me. That’s the simple answer.

On the other hand, I’m aware of the problem: there are unholy swarms of people and ‘influencers’ who have less knowledge of basic biology than I do who are flooding the zone with all kinds of cockamamie ideas based primarily on ideology. Sometimes the people who pretend to have the most knowledge about the human body give the very worst advice, so how do you figure out what is good advice? I mean, you’ve got total wackaloons who have driven themselves into induced comas and neurotic breakdowns telling you to eat nothing but beef; you’ve got other nerds insisting that everyone must avoid meat, eggs, and gluten (which is necessary for some people); and then you’ve got breatharians and other insane people who believe in living on diet Coke and Big Macs.

On the third hand, human beings have survived for hundreds of thousands of years without TikTok, eating what was available and tasted good, and cultivating wonderful cuisines without relying on bizarre notions of what some wild-eyed skinny fanatic said. That’s the thing about nutrition: traditions are good guides because they’re the product of people who survived their diet. OK, French sauces and hakarl might be extreme and bad for you in the long run, but human experimentation also gave us curries and bread. We haven’t died of anything like that unless consumed in excess.

My general guide to eating is simple: moderation in everything. Avoid heavily processed foods. Try a variety of things, a ‘balanced’ diet. Beans, rice, and potatoes can be the solid foundation for your diet, and have the additional virtue in these tight economic times of being cheap. Build on them with spices — I feel like one of the cardinal sins of the American diet is the spice deficiency. Spices make mundane, boring, but reliable staples interesting and allow you to get flavor without feeling like you have to indulge in buying exotic, expensive, heavily processed foods.

Add stuff you can find in season. I like to add a piece of fish to a meal for a bit of richness…or use an egg, or some broccoli, or a side of peas. Avoid uniformity.

Learn how to make a paella, or a curry, or a stew. Just the process of assembling all the elements of these kinds of foods guarantees that you’ll get a dietary variety, and it will taste good. I trust tradition far more than I do the latest influencer fad. Your best bet is to ignore people like me and just spend more time in the produce section of your grocery store, gathering up tomatoes and turnips and cabbage and mushrooms and carrots and peppers and onions and cauliflower and green beans and garlic, and then figure out how to cook them and make a delicious meal. Pick up a variety of fruits for dessert.

It takes a bit more effort than picking up a box of premade something-or-other, but it would be better for you.

I’ve been bookmaxxing for decades.

I’ve taken up spidermaxxing lately.

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By way of today’s Oglaf:

I thought, no way, that isn’t in the Bible. But it is! It’s all wrapped in prudish anti-sex nonsense, but if you just read Proverbs 7:10-20, it’s kind of a hot porn story. Unfortunately, it turns into a kind of horror story after Proverbs 7:21. The narrator is a sour old killjoy.

7 My son, keep my words
and store up my commands within you.
2 Keep my commands and you will live;
guard my teachings as the apple of your eye.
3 Bind them on your fingers;
write them on the tablet of your heart.
4 Say to wisdom, “You are my sister,”
and to insight, “You are my relative.”
5 They will keep you from the adulterous woman,
from the wayward woman with her seductive words.

6 At the window of my house
I looked down through the lattice.
7 I saw among the simple,
I noticed among the young men,
a youth who had no sense.
8 He was going down the street near her corner,
walking along in the direction of her house
9 at twilight, as the day was fading,
as the dark of night set in.

10 Then out came a woman to meet him,
dressed like a prostitute and with crafty intent.
11 (She is unruly and defiant,
her feet never stay at home;
12 now in the street, now in the squares,
at every corner she lurks.)
13 She took hold of him and kissed him
and with a brazen face she said:

14 “Today I fulfilled my vows,
and I have food from my fellowship offering at home.
15 So I came out to meet you;
I looked for you and have found you!
16 I have covered my bed
with colored linens from Egypt.
17 I have perfumed my bed
with myrrh, aloes and cinnamon.
18 Come, let’s drink deeply of love till morning;
let’s enjoy ourselves with love!
19 My husband is not at home;
he has gone on a long journey.
20 He took his purse filled with money
and will not be home till full moon.”

21 With persuasive words she led him astray;
she seduced him with her smooth talk.
22 All at once he followed her
like an ox going to the slaughter,
like a deer[a] stepping into a noose[b]
23 till an arrow pierces his liver,
like a bird darting into a snare,
little knowing it will cost him his life.

24 Now then, my sons, listen to me;
pay attention to what I say.
25 Do not let your heart turn to her ways
or stray into her paths.
26 Many are the victims she has brought down;
her slain are a mighty throng.
27 Her house is a highway to the grave,
leading down to the chambers of death.

Other than the grim ending, that sounds like a very good outline for a porn video. Thanks, Bible!

Now I’m wondering if perfuming the sheets with a hint of cinnamon wouldn’t be a bad idea.

I had to address my friends: don’t pity me for my bad design. I’ll get better.

A few weeks ago, I saw a movie called Normal. It was a violent shoot-em-up set in a small Minnesota town named Normal, starring Bob Odenkirk as the new sheriff. I guess his new standard role is as a more humorous, laid-back John Wick. Anyway, the premise of the movie, which was rather unbelievable, is that this town was a quiet, secret storage place for vast sums of yakuza money. Ha ha, very likely. The new sheriff discovers the hoard of cash and gold, and hijinks ensue, hijinks that involve the citizens of the town shooting and blowing things up to protect their lucrative local industry.

It was entertaining, but not great, and nothing like the small town Minnesota I see. Except…

Today I went downtown to pay my home insurance bill at a local bank. This bank has always felt weird to me — there are never any clients inside, it’s got these gigantic high ceilings and very classy decor, and I only ever see one or two tellers at “work,” that is, doing nothing but sitting at their desks looking bored. Suddenly, the idea that this bank could be a front for yakuza treasure seemed a little more probable.

Then I discovered that the bill I was paying was not for 6 months coverage, but for one month. Eeep. This was way too high for me, or for most people in this little town, so now I’m thinking that the idea that we’re under the yakuza seems much more plausible.

Bob Odenkirk, come save us!

Found on Bluesky:

Likewise, my first thought was to press the blue button. But then I thought that that would just give all the red button people what they wanted, and I’d end up dead while they could take all my stuff. But then I thought again, would I want to live in a world full of murderous bastards? And I was back to pushing the blue button.

You could cycle around and around this dilemma all day long. Entertaining, but I have better things to do.

This does have evolutionary implications. We don’t have buttons with global effects, but throughout our history we’ve had people meeting and having to choose between cooperating and expediently executing those who oppose us. I think in the long run, cooperation wins, but the problem with this thought experiment is that it compresses a billion incremental decisions into one final, immediate commitment, and that isn’t at all realistic.

My wife, who works at an assisted living facility in town, just got home and told me a sad story of a resident whose grown kids did not bother to call her today.

So I’m here to remind you to get off your goddamn butt and call your mom. Now.

I spent many years debating stupid creationists, and I never ever got paid a nickel.* Nothing. For all that effort. I was in the wrong business, because apparently you can get paid $10,000 for debating AI-Doomer nonsense, and you can even show up for the online debate looking like this:

He was called to debate by this anonymous fellow, 47fucb4r8curb4fc8f8r4bfic8r, who coughed up the $10K for the privilege of telling Eliezer Yudkowski to stop making extravagant claims and stop threatening AI researchers with doom.

It is an utterly ridiculous debate between two clowns. Yudkowski wants to claim that research on AI is an existential threat to humanity (I think that’s silly, except in the sense that it is a waste of resources), while 47fucb4r8curb4fc8f8r4bfic8r is an LLM researcher who wants to grandstand and claim that Yudkowski is an existential threat to him, personally. I can’t take either of them seriously.

What I have learned is that if I want to profit from future debates, I need to invest in goofy hats.

*OK, Ray Comfort once sent me a fruit basket, but that was it. It was memorable because it was such an exception.