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July 2014

Thank goodness I’m organic

Not so long ago, life was simpler, slower and far less complex. I’m not necessarily saying that “the good ol’ days” were so marvelous and “Oh gawrsh, I sure do miss them grand times when Pappy would give all us young ‘uns a lump of coal to play with and we’d be happy as ants in a jam pot for days!” I’m just saying things were not so complicated – and we had far fewer things to worry about.
Today, there’s a new buzz-word, catch-phrase or “condition” every other day and it’s hard to keep up. That’s always assuming that many of us even want to keep up – because many of us don’t. Take the organic craze. Everything’s “organic” these days. Organic tomatoes, organic bananas, organic beef… Yadda, yadda, yadda… The same “organic” products that have been sustaining us for millennia, so what’s new? Have you ever eaten an in-organic banana? Braaied an in-organic steak? So, the truth? Nothing’s changed – excepting the marketing hype. Because, don’t you know that it’s ever so cool to be organic. To be one with nature. To be in tune with mother earth. To makes sure one’s chakra’s are correctly aligned - and other such new-age tripe that spills from vain, self-aggrandizing heads and captivates easily-led brain donors into coughing up double the amount of dough for an “organic” T-bone, as opposed a just plain normal hunk of artery-clogging (delicious) cow.

There’s more… ADD? ADDHD? I know! Let’s put the kid on Ritalin! Let’s enroll him for a six-month course of psychological support counseling! In the “simpler” days of yore, folks realised there was nothing wrong with the lightie that a short, sharp klap wouldn’t cure. “Don’t make me call your Father! You’ll be sorry my boy!” Lactose intolerant? Gluten free? Any parent knows that kids will eat just about anything once they get hungry enough. “You’ll get it for breakfast tomorrow, my boy. S’true’s bob!” Vegetarians? Vegans? Macro-biotics? Didn’t even exist back in the day. Not one lightie in my boarding school could even spell vegetarian. Half of us couldn’t even spell veg! We chowed every scrap that was doled onto our plates in the blink of an eye and said “Please Sir, can I have some more?” And if you weren’t wild about what you were given, you learned to like it - or you starved to death. It was a case of the quick and the hungry.

Oh yes, and we definitely mustn’t forget the codswallop that bombards us daily courtesy of ad. agencies. Cosmetics companies are the worst – with car manufacturers a close second. But, let’s stick to the fantastic rather than garden variety hogwash. My shampoo has Brazilian Keratin, and yours? My face cream has Triple AH Fruit Acids, that’s why I paid R350 for a 10g. jar. My “wrinkle remover” has age-defying pro-retinol A, that’s why over 80% of old bags say it “reduces the appearance of ageing”. My base has elastol and is the best thing since Mercury for my skin. (my base has elastol as well, that’s why it keeps expanding) And just exactly what is BB base? I swear it looks just like beige Polyfilla in a shwanky tube… Maybe its Maybelliine – or maybe it’s just bull***t.

And then. Finally. My (and Oscar-I’m-sorry-m’lady-I-was-scared-of-the-boogyman*sniff*-Pistorius’) current favourite. GAD. General Anxiety Disorder. If this is a disease or anything approaching a real condition, then we ALL have it. So let’s just quarantine the country, barricade the airports, drain the harbours and have one big pity party while we all feel sorry for ourselves. Or, of course, those of us with some remaining semblance of sentient thought can just say “To hell with all this horse-puckey!” and get on with our lives. Just like regular carbon-based organic life forms have been doing since one amoeba sidled up to another and said “let’s split and go multiply”.   

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