I like Dr. Oz as much as the next gal—if by “as much” you mean the 27% likeability that I afford any multimillionaire health guru who scampers around in scrubs as much as he does. I fully believe that, if I followed every piece of advice and took the entire arsenal of supplements and remedies and superfoods he recommends, I would probably drop the ten I would like to drop. On the other hand, I might gain the ten I don’t wish to gain, due to the sheer volume of ingestion I would need to do.
Never lose sight of the fact that it is Oz we’re talking about here. Don’t ever think that you will escape the fact that, up until very recently, the only mode of transportation that could take you there was a bona fide twister! He wants you to think that it’s a coincidence; they are completely unrelated, but come on. We’re not that naive, are we? Do you remember much obesity in the land of Oz? Neither do I—except in its citizens affectionately known as “Munchkins,” who have now become synonymous with the decidedly non-super food, the donut hole. Curious. . . I’ve watched enough TLC to know that Little People live in a big world. How is it that Dr. Oz has turned his back on his people this way, and hasn’t launched a full-out assault on Dunkin’ Donuts over their insensitivity to this apparent medical issue? I don’t know the answer, and, ultimately, don’t care.
Because of the four mega-metabo-teas, and the fresh citrus cleanse water I drank three cups of earlier, my writing groove is wrecked, done, kaput. I will get up to go to the bathroom, my kid will commandeer the computer and descend into his part time occupation as digging person in the game Minecraft. I will, in all likelihood, go and find a snack.
Curse you, Dr. Oz!