100% Failure Rate Does not Inspire

I don’t plan to become a family blogger, because my wife and whatever kids I will have never made the decision to be on the web, and I don’t believe I should subject them to much exposure. Nonetheless, I supposed it’s inevitable that I will mention them from time to time

Today I’m learning about gestational diabetes.

Pregnancy is a horror. I don’t care who gets mad when I say it. It’s true. God cursed women in Genesis 3, and he laid it on pretty good. If I had to be the one to bear the children, we would have to adopt, because there is no way I would consent to go through it.

Childbirth is a horror. It’s disgusting. If you’re a man, and you don’t know much about the subject, go read. Watch videos and look at photos if you have the stomach for it. Men love to say it’s beautiful and natural and all that, just like they love telling gullible girls they’re all about saving the whales or the Palestinians or going vegan when all they really care about is virtue-signaling their way into the sack. Men who lie to make women happy make truthful men look like the bad guys, but of course, that’s their plan. “I’m not like the others. And I’ve had a vasectomy, honest.”

About half of women take a dump during childbirth. Is that beautiful? I could go on.

When you get pregnant, you can look forward to vomiting, having food you love taste bad, all sorts of joint pains, muscle cramps that wake you up in tremendous pain, fatigue, headaches, uncontrollable mood swings, irrational thoughts, constipation, gas, hemorrhoids, and diabetes. You may not get all of these things, but you’ll get some.

The list is actually longer than that.

At the end, you have to push a huge object out through your genitalia, and rips and tears are common. Then you may go crazy from post-partum depression.

Nobody ever says the thing men’s bodies do to conceive a child is beautiful. Why? Because men don’t have to be flattered in order to get them into bed. It’s not beautiful. It’s gross. It makes a mess.

Like most women, my wife picked up a lot of weight after marriage. This set her up for gestational diabetes, and when she became pregnant, her own body betrayed her by changing its hormones to cripple her response to insulin. She failed a glucose test, so now we have a glucose monitor and a bunch of wokeness-corrupted dietary suggestions.

I say “wokeness-corrupted” because the advice always seems to begin with a push toward wokey food. Whole grains and fruit. Grain and fruit made her diabetic in the first place, but the medical establishment has a sick bias against meat and fat, which, had she eaten them exclusively, would have kept her thin and healthy.

A woman with diabetes does not need medical enablers telling her it’s okay to stuff herself with whole grains. Food cravings are her problem, which means she has the same problem an addict has. Her mind makes her look for justification to continue with destructive behavior. “I can’t eat a pound of African corn meal mush every day, but I can load up on brown rice and any bread that isn’t white.” No, she can’t. And she should not be encouraged to.

When you eat a big pile of brown rice, you’re going to raise your blood sugar more slowly than you would with white rice, which is almost a poison, but you will still raise it more than you would with a healthy meal with a moderate level of carbs.

My wife’s problem is partly due to whole grain. She eats nshima, which is boiled corn meal. It’s as whole as grains get.

As for fruit, it’s just a sugar solution with a little fiber added. It’s not a healthy food unless you eat it sparingly. When you eat a lot of fruit at one sitting, you get a headache. Why? Because you just pummeled your system with sugar. And it’s not “healthy sugar,” either. It’s fructose and glucose. Glucose is worse for you than table sugar.

They should be telling her to focus on meat, fat, and non-starchy vegetables with some carbs thrown in for balance.

My wife is expected to cut herself 4 times a day and check her glucose levels.

I started reading about these things because I know she will want help with monitoring. Now I feel so bad for diabetics, I can hardly stand to think about it. They’re all over the web talking about their problems. “Can I eat this?” “Can I eat that?” Discussing their level of this or that.

How do they stand it? They get things like terrible foot pain, headaches, blindness, amputations, impotence…

I’m not sure I realize how blessed I am.

Yesterday, I saw a video in which two web comedians made fun of Arnold Schwarzenegger. They were commenting on a video of an old white-haired man shuffling up a street and struggling to climb two or three stairs to get into an RV. He was breathing through his mouth. The man was Arnold.

The video came from a movie set, so I don’t know if the hair is his, but the rest is real. He looks bad. His feet barely leave the ground, which is a sign of dementia. His posture is terrible. His spine seems crooked.

Schwarzenegger is 77, and Donald Trump is 78. Donald Trump swings his arms and legs when he walks. He hits a golf ball a mile. He doesn’t breathe through his mouth when he walks on level ground. He dances at his appearances. I think Schwarzenegger would fall over.

My health is not perfect, and I am considerably younger than Arnold Schwarzenegger, but I am doing extremely well compared to many people my age. I can run up a flight of stairs. I work outside, carrying big branches, and I never feel sore the next day. I walk fast. My young wife asks me to slow down.

I make beer, so I have to lift a 10-gallon pot nearly full of grain and water. No problem. I have to lift 55-pound kegs about 40″ to get them into my freezers. Easy.

Sometimes I get an urge to go out and work hard with my chainsaws, not just to get things cleaned up, but to feel myself moving, like a horse that runs and jumps for no reason.

I park a long way from stores so I can burn off energy walking and so I can leave the other spaces for the “old people,” many of whom are younger than I am. When we went to Switzerland recently, the day after we arrived, I left the hotel alone on very little sleep and walked all over town. I went to a bar by the river and had a few beers and shot video. I loved it. My wife was at the hotel, flat on her back.

Why has God been so good to me, of all people? It’s a little scary. I don’t want to do anything to ruin it. And should I tell other people about it, or will I make them feel bad needlessly?

I have a friend who is two years younger than I am, and he has an artificial hip, artificial lenses, an amputated big toe, and diabetes. I’m afraid he’ll die soon. I would miss him.

This diabetes thing is giving me a new appreciation for other people’s physical problems. Before this happened, I was thinking about these things and praying about them a lot, but reading about diabetes really brought it home to me.

I hate this place. This planet is just hell light. There is so much suffering. Age, deformities, diseases, and injuries are extremely ugly and humiliating, and we can’t get away from them. Even if I’m doing well, I have to see others I can’t do anything to help, all day.

I’m not even discussing mental deficiencies and disorders. That’s a big subject all by itself.

Schwarzenegger is a wretched person in my opinion. If he has ever done anything for anyone else, I am not aware of it. He pumped himself up with drugs and climbed over other people in order to become famous. He was a bully, and he had sex with all sorts of women, including at least one session involving a whole group of male bodybuilders in the same room. He smoked weed. He entered into an extremely suspicious marriage with a person who just happened to be a Kennedy, and then he spat on marriage by knocking up a homely servant in his wife’s house. He served as Bush I’s Chairman of the President’s Council on Physical Fitness and Sports when he didn’t actually know anything about fitness or sports and he was prancing around with drug muscles.

Bodybuilders aren’t actually fit. They use routines that build muscles that are very large but not all that strong. Skinny powerlifters put them to shame. A lot of bodybuilders have a hard time walking up stairs because they have no cardiovascular fitness and no energy reserves. Their endocrine systems are constantly in crisis. They get cancer. Their guts and hearts grow and fill their chest cavities because they use growth hormone. They grow breasts and have to have them cut out. That happened to Dwayne Johnson, another person I don’t admire.

Schwarzenegger was supposed to inspire young people, and he did. He inspired them to take illegal drugs and ruin their bodies. There are a lot more steroid users out there now than there would have been without Arnold’s mass mentorship.

Now Johnson is using drugs while appearing in movies aimed at kids. He’s 52, and he has much bigger muscles than he did when he played football at the University of Miami. They had a fantastic strength coach, and they probably gave the players drugs, but old Johnson makes young Johnson look like Don Knotts.

I know a former UM player a few years younger than Johnson, and he was a monster when he played. He beat up a top-10 boxer outside a club, and he had muscles on top of muscles. I saw him a few years later, and he didn’t even look athletic. Skinny arms and legs. Don’t tell me he wasn’t on drugs.

Schwarzenegger weakened the GOP after it helped him get a governorship. He took a naturalization oath in which he swore to protect the Constitution, and then he tried to curtail our civil rights with gun control. He even said, “Screw your freedom,” because he was so terrified of coronavirus.

I am perplexed by people who admire him. Yesterday, I told my wife he had sold his soul to the devil, and I wasn’t sure the devil got a good deal.

Now the earthly life he sold his soul to enjoy is wrapping up. Everything is being taken away except for the money. No worthwhile person respects him. They see through him. His movies were fun, but they were shallow and cartoonish. He never made a Casablanca or Lawrence of Arabia. Even Jean Claude Van Damme has made more mature fare. Van Damme is able to examine himself with some honesty.

Last night my wife and I prayed for Schwarzenegger, but there isn’t much hope for people who get everything they want while remaining children.

I wish I could do something for people whose bodies are messed up. It will be nice to live in a place where such help is never needed.