It struck me funny yesterday that just as summer arrived in Canada (things happen fast around here) and I began to think “BBQ and Lindsay Lohan,” an article was placed on my desk by my lovely wife that said (in part) the following:
“People who consume large quantities or red meat [most of North America qualifies, eh] have an increased risk of contracting certain diseases, particularly colon cancer. This is caused by three main factors...” (click here to read article)
So, after forgetting about sitting on a lawn chair in the sun and poking a steak on the BBQ while reading a funny entertainment column re Lindsay’s quest for quality time with (none other than) herself, I prepared a salad rather than steak for supper.
I can stand to eat less red meat.
["Meat and car production are similar in many ways": photo GAH]
So can most North Americans, especially those who don’t want to become part of the mournful stats listed in the recent study by the US National Cancer Institute.
For example:
“People who consumed more red meat, about the equivalent of a quarter-pound (115 g) per day, had a 22% greater risk of dying prematurely from cancer and a 27% greater risk of death related to a heart ailment compared to those who ate less than a quarter-pound of red meat per week.”
Less red meat in the diet also means - less intensive land use for corn production (a grain heavily and inappropriately stuffed into cattle - they are grass-eaters), less fertilizer use (a chemical product reliant on much oil and natural gas for its creation), less fossil fuel use for delivery across North American and the world.
There are many other benefits to decreasing our over-use of factory farms, land, water, and fossil fuel.
Less red meat. I’m on it.
***
I won’t say I’m off it, but I will reduce it.
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2 comments:
Gordo -
do you prefer the Sinead or the Kingston 3 version of 'Scarlet Ribbons'?
And who do you think laid them on that pillow? My guess is Baby Jesus.
Sonny,
I much prefer the Sinead version.
Halfway through the Kingston Trio's slow, slow, painfully slow effort ("ribbons for her hair..." plink, plink) my forehead always hits the keyboard or dining room table.
Who laid them on the pillow?
A hope-filled mother who was thinking, "Gotta get this kid out of the damn basement!"
Cheers!
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