The cheese-log conspiracy

There is an overlooked conspiracy expanding in this country. It kicks into high gear right around Thanksgiving and powers on through Christmas. We've all been ignorant to its evil, but I think I've figured it out, and I will stand for it no longer.

I like to call it the "cheese-log conspiracy."

Every year, Americans pack themselves into houses full of secretly unhappy relatives and enjoy a tenuous holiday season. Grumpy from spending money on gifts, receiving bad gifts, dealing with long airport waits and strange relatives with weird habits, they can't help but think this system should break down at some point.

With the way the structure is set up, families should end up spilling into the streets like crazed lunatics. Brother against brother, aunt against aunt. The factors are all there.

It just doesn't happen, except in some parts of Kent and Seatac, and the reason why the system holds together will shake society to its very foundation.

The culprits are names we all know, love and trust. Eggnog. Summer sausage. Black-forest cake. Glazed ham. And yes, processed cheese-nut logs.

Americans stuff themselves with these seemingly friendly foods. A little slice of cheese with that processed meat. An extra helping of glazed ham at the dinner table. One more glass of spiced eggnog, just a nightcap.

Indeed.

While we mindlessly consume these delicious foods, something sinister is at work. Nobody has ever pinpointed the drug effect of processed cheese, but it's time.

Daily, we hear of the ill effects of cigarettes, the dangers of drinking and the social nightmares of drug abuse. But no one says a word about the holiday-food industry.



And while all these evils have laws aimed at preventing them, no legislation has been raised to stop the harm caused by ingesting a three-sectioned popcorn bucket.

The time has come.

The fact that the precarious holiday relationships we all pretend to enjoy manage to hold together is no coincidence. There is no fairy godmother or patron saint of grumpy relatives creating miracles.

No, the thread that holds it all together around late December is the drug holiday-food companies call "fat."

Sure, they blind you with claims that it's a building block of life, a necessary nutrient. They give it funny names: saturated, unsaturated, poly-unsaturated, mono-unsaturated, trans-fats but it's all the same drug.

Some companies have even gone so far as to claim they can "reduce" or cut out "half" the fat, as though a little won't hurt you. Wake up.

While America is easing the stress of the holidays with these fat-loaded drugs, we're looking past the real effects.

Fat has been shown to cause an increase in the size of the human body, especially in the lower abdominal and posterior regions. Tests have proven that athletic ability is decreased after a high-fat "meal."

Real fat junkies have even been known to express a feeling of lethargy after a binge. They refer to this with the slang term "full," and side effects like a loss of appetite and motivation are commonly associated.

Invariably, users of the drug make "resolutions" to stop around New Year's, just at the end of the holiday binge, but the addiction can be hard to break. Some struggle with it well into February.

Hardcore abusers of fat have been known to end up in rehab centers called "gyms", which use such arcane and horrific sounding devices as "treadmills" and "rowing machines" to literally shrink the size of the patient's body.

But avoidance of these terrible conditions is easy. Instead of subduing holiday annoyances with caramel-corn and cookies, face the irritation.

Tell your aunt about the annoying slurp she makes when she eats soup. Throw those home-knitted socks back in your grandma's face and tell her you deserve better. Stand up for yourself, take the remote from your uncle, and watch the programs you want.

Just be aware that bold steps like these require devotion, and family members may not be ready for your anti-fat campaign. While you may be ready to take this bold step, the rest of society may not.

Simply explain to them, as they kick you out of the house into the cold rain, that the cheese-log conspiracy will control your thoughts and actions no longer.