Good morning and greetings, lipid and protein fans. As I mentioned last week, I was going in for a blood test to see if I was ending my life long love affair with sugar. Well, the test results are back and, according to the Surgeon General, I’m as healthy as a horse, or at least a young shetland pony.
The concern was my cholesterol, which is the soft, fat-like, waxy substance found in the bloodstream, cells and rain gutters. It was a tad high, so about a year ago, I starting downing Omega-3 fish oil pills like they were Good & Plenty. And then, in the words of Gomer Pyle, “surprise, surprise,” my cholesterol went up.
My doctor, astrologer and caddie were somewhat bewildered by this turn of events, being that the 4,000 milligrams a day of this supplement was supposed to lower my cholesterol by 30%, along with improving my mood, the health of my heart and my golf swing. Not only did I not get the desired results, but I was somewhat depressed and frequently had the urge to to swim upstream.
My doctor then informed me that even if I had the perfect grain and fiber diet, exercised like a maniac and brushed after every Hershey’s with almonds bar, it was possible, because of the genetics that were passed down to me by my mother who didn’t breast feed me, that my cholesteol would still be too high.
Now, I realize that people reading this without cholesterol problems might not be mesmerized by my health issues, but the lack of NBA playoff games last week combined with LeBron James’ bizarre disappearing act took an awful toll on me. The second round of the playoffs were as disappointing as the Haromonic Convergence.
Let me take you back to 1987, when I ventured out onto the point at Steamer Lane. It was on the instructions from my guru, Baba Haagan Daaz, that I gathered at this power center in search of some spiritual energy. This day of planetary alignment was supposed to be a global awakening to love, unity and sports through divine transformation. Instead, all I witnessed was a Norweigan rat scurrying by that almost knocked over my table of crystals.
Anyway, after my previous blood test, my doctor said that except for the mild hallucinations, I was okay for now, but that someday I would have to go on statins. Well, the only statin I’m interested in being on is the Staten Island ferry. I’ve never been on any prescribed medication and really have no interest in joining the Lipitor family. I prefer to have liver problems the natural way, like too much Manischewitz.
Since the Omega-3 pills didn’t do the trick, I had one last card to play. We’re talking Red Yeast Rice, a supplement which has been in the traditional Chinese diet for centuries, dating back to the early days of mu shu pork. It’s also a natural statin. Recently, I discovered that it only works in one of every three people, so I had to ask myself the question posed by Clint Eastwood to the killer in “Dirty Harry.” “Do I feel lucky. Well, do you, punk?”
So here’s the good part. After taking my newest Chinese friend for seven months, my cholesterol dropped 30 points, along with my triglycerides, LDL cholesterol and golf scores. And this was at a time when I didn’t lose any weight, didn’t stick with my vegan diet and got as much exercise as a veal chop.
So I’m grateful for this supplement and a clean bill of health. I am now free do the things I’ve always wanted, like explore the Amazon, climb Mount Everest and tape the IronMan Triathalon. Well, either that or watch “Weeds” on DVD, consume the mounds of pad see ew (the Thai version of chow fun) while contemplating the question that scholars have been asking themselves for centuries, “why does TiVo keep erasing shows that I haven’t watched yet?”
Let’s move to our photo showcase. A couple of Fridays back, I spent the afternoon in lovely Pebble Beach, then returned home just in time to capture some color on the horizon. Spring sunsets are different here on the central coast, as we don’t get the outrageous clouds and intense hues that we get in the wintertime. Still, nothing says goodbye to the day quite like an Oscar-winning performance by the gathering clouds at dusk. Well, either that or an episode of “Seinfeld” that I’ve seen a dozen times.
Let’s head to the late night action. “Hey, here’s some good news. The price of oil has dropped by $12 a barrel. I mean, why buy it when you can just scoop it out of the water?” –Jay Leno “This oil spill in the Gulf is affecting everybody. In fact, when I went to lunch this weekend and ordered the sea bass, they asked if I wanted it regular or unleaded. But these British Petroleum executives are trying to spin this a little bit. I heard one guy say today that it’s a good thing, actually, because now when you open a clam, the hinge doesn’t squeak.” –David Letterman
“Prison inmates in Louisiana are now pitching in to clean up the Gulf Coast oil spill. At this point, the solutions have been dump chemicals in the ocean, shoot a bunch of garbage under water and release prisoners. If none of that works, they’re going to have Al Qaeda come take a look at it.” –Jimmy Fallon “The Obama administration has revealed the size of America’s nuclear arsenal. The U.S. has 5,113 warheads, approximately 1,000 of them aimed at China, 1,000 aimed at Russia, and the rest aimed at Fox News. Well, in China, the one child limit may be on its way out because Chinese experts say there aren’t enough babies in the country anymore. To give you an idea how bad it’s getting, some factories over there are now being forced to hire adults.” –Jay Leno
“The stock market took a dive today. It was so bad, Goldman Sachs had to lay off three congressmen. “And to protest Arizona’s tough new immigration law, a lot of people now boycotting products made in that state. This could cripple the bolo tie industry.” –Jay Leno “Britain’s current prime minister, Gordon Brown, announced that he is stepping down and his replacement might be the education secretary, a gentleman named Ed Balls. I would like to make a plea on behalf of late night talk show hosts and bad comedians everywhere — I implore the voters of Britain to make sure that happens. ” –Craig Ferguson
So that’s our medical report for the week. Good news for TV fans as “Friday Night Lights” has returned to NBC. That’s right, Coach Taylor and his wife Tami, played by the lovely Connie Britton are back, and I am semi-ecstatic. No TV show, with the exception of “The Real Housewives of New Jersey,” gets me going emotionally like this one about high school football in Texas. Of course, it’s not just about football, but the guys who write the show, unlike the execs running TransOcean, BP Or Halliburton, really know what they’re doing. Magnificent, fabulous TV that never disappoints.
So as I write this, the volcano is once again pluming ash in the air over Europe, black oil is gushing into the Gulf of Mexico and the red shirts are rioting in streets of downtown Bangkok. Let’s just hope, for the sake of Saint’s fans, they can stop that leak. So be grateful we don’t have tornadoes here in California and we’ll catch you at the postgame podium. Aloha, mahalo and later, Kyle Chandler fans.