Lamenting a Life of Scrumptious Sinning

I have experimented with a lot of diets. Most people have, both the perpetually fat and their nemesis the generically-gifted thin. My generation, the baby boomer blubber bellied, have preached dietary salvation of one extreme or another, while secretly lost in our own swirling smorgasbord of delectable, yet inevitably debilitating, oral gratifications.

Many of us will suffer the sins of our unleashed youthful decadence. For this boomer baby generation, our time has come. Tobacco, alcohol, lethargic loafing, and a litany of 'almost-but not' healthy foods, will manifest, and then perpetuate, an unholy alliance of healthcare professionals.

An endless parade of specialists will symptomize symptoms, and perhaps half-sympathize, dispensing some alchemist concoction, recommended by an attractive drug company salesperson. We will go under the knife, chipping away flesh like a hundred circumcisions, and be thankful for the debilitations.

 If we survive, we promise to be happy, and more careful than before. Grateful to a merciful cosmic benefactor, and all those socialistic sentiments, like labor unions and State supplemented health care.

We move on this chessboard from our roles as knight, bishop, and/or queen, to helpless bed-ridden pawn, dependent on surviving friends and family and the good graces of strangers.

Best not write when too centered at being ill. Return when I feel better.