Tuesday, August 26, 2003
I love Ireland. Beautiful country. A place where people let you live your life and don't tell you what to do. But apparently I visited the Bizzaro Ireland, because the one in our world has gone nanny-happy. In addition to banning Happy Hours and smoking in all pubs and restaurants, they now want to institute a fat-tax on unhealthy foods because the Irish are getting fat. Well...duh? Every meal seems to include potatoes, bacon and Guinness, it rains more than it doesn't and half the roads are too narrow for walking. How can anyone expect the Irish to get any exercise? But in truth, the problem is that this solution places the blame, and the cost, on the food makers rather than where it truly belongs: the eater. Much like the insane "fat lawsuits" in the U.S., somehow the people who shovel this stuff into their mouths became the victims. Did Ronald McDonald hold you down while Grimace force-fed you 20 shakes? Did Arthur Guinness rise from the dead and make you funnel a case of stout? No? Then shut up and hit the treadmill. Corporations make what people want. We want burgers; so don't blame McDonalds for giving them to us.