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Is this rubbish?

While current events and the news are usually pits of misery and depression, today has heralded a truly joyous descovery.

Strawberries are good for you but having them in a cocktail may make them even healthier, a study suggests.
The fruit contains compounds that can protect against cancer, heart disease and arthritis.

But having them with alcohol, such as in a daiquiri, boosts these antioxidant properties, the Journal of the Science of Food and Agriculture says.

Nutritionists said the “detrimental effects” of such drinks could cancel out such benefits.

The most common cocktail to include strawberries is the daiquiri - which also includes lime or lemon juice, strawberry liqueur, sugar - and rum.

The researchers, from the Kasetsart University in Thailand and the US Department of Agriculture Research Service, were actually looking for more effective ways of keeping fruit fresh during storage.

They found that treating strawberries with alcohol enhanced the antioxidant capacity within the fruit - which boosts the fruit’s power to neutralise destructive molecules called free radicals - by a third.

Free radicals are highly reactive oxygen molecules which damage DNA and cell membranes.

They are linked to a wide range of diseases and are thought to be one of the chief causes of ageing.

Treating blackberries in the same ways also had beneficial effects.

But Dr Frankie Phillips of the British Dietetic Association said: “It’s well known that some preparation of fruit and veg can enhance the availability of nutrients and other plant chemicals including antioxidants.

“For example, cooking tomatoes or stir frying pepper facilitates availability of the lycopene and beta-carotene they contain.

“That’s why the five-a-day message states to include a variety of fruit and veg as fresh, frozen, juice, dried and canned, and encourages different preparations.”

She added: “Whilst this study suggests that consuming strawberries with alcohol increases the antioxidant capacity, there are clearly detrimental effects of consuming alcohol in terms of cell damage.

“So any potential antioxidant benefits may be cancelled out by the potential liver damage caused by too much alcohol.

“Our advice is to enjoy summer berries but don’t expect a panacea in the form of a strawberry daiquiri.”

Source: The BBC.

Finally I have an excuse for drinking daiquiri’s and other flamboyant cocktails.

I am bored. Bored and dissatisfied.

Why?

I’ll tell you.

I get up, five days a week, and go I to work. I cycle the same route, more or less, and I do the same thing, day in, day out. There’s no thought to it, no aspect of learning or being stretched mentally, I just autopilot through the days without surprise or challenge.

I don’t know when it happened, but I’ve fallen into a rut. I’ve become comfortable in my little world and I’ve stopped trying, I’ve become lazy. I used to watch art house films in clandestine little theatres, I used to read political literature and write essays for obscure web forums. I actually used to use my brain for something that wasn’t thinking how cool it’d be to be a wizard*.

There was a time when I didn’t put any stock in possessions, watch TV, or desire a bigger one. I used to be happy taking long bike rides and reading in the park, I’d forgo paying bills in order to spend a weekend in Prague mooching around museums. I used to swear I’d never be put in a box.

Yet I find, much to my horror, that I’ve gradually been squared away in a neat little cubby-hole, claimed, as if by some terrible creeping affliction, by those things I sought to avoid. I find myself accepting platitudes from companies that give me shoddy service, charges when the bank is at fault and yesterday I nearly accepted an on the spot fine for littering because it was easier than arguing my point that, “I don’t smoke, why would I be dropping a fag packet? No really, you’ve fuck-all hope of me paying that, it isn’t my rubbish. Are you not listening? It. Isn’t. My. Rubbish. Yes I’m sure I would get it refunded if CCTV proves I’m telling the truth. But I’d get it back a whole lot quicker if I didn’t pay you in the first place and made you prove I dropped it, wouldn’t I? Feel free to call who you like pal, I’ll be in that café there having some lunch.”

I find myself in this situation because it’s easier than the alternative, less effort than doing your own thing. What. The. Hell? How did that happen, when did that happen? How much do we accept on a daily basis because ‘that’s just how it is’, when did we become so apathetic?

I think it’s time for a change, for me at least.

* Two words. Pointy. Hat.

I’m off to see Guys and Dolls tonight.

This, apparently, is not something that men do because, horror of horrors, it’s a musical and therefore deeply suspicious in the eyes of the male psyche.

I’m also going to the opening of an art gallery. I’m informed that this is, “probably alright as long as there’s no ‘modern’ art and you’re only there for the pictures of ladies with their baps out. Do you fancy a curry?”

Sometimes I wonder at the company I keep.

I’m one of those people who have no sense of brand loyalty. I use the supermarket that is closest to my house; I buy clothes that I like and I only make large purchases after much deliberation and research. I fail to see what’s so revolutionary about a razor with six blades and I believe all marketing to be legitimised begging.

It irks me that I can’t watch television, use the internet, read a paper or walk through town without being bombarded with messages telling me that I need things, that my life can only be improved by having an iPod, that I could defy ageing by smearing my face in some pseudo-scientific goo, that if I were cool, really cool, I’d go here, do this, wear that and buy, buy, buy.

Marketing intrudes on every aspect of our lives in some of the most pervasive, insidious, ways imaginable and, frankly, I’d rather the people who come up with this shite would fuck off and die.

What’s prompted this? Well, innate cynicism aside, I bought a carton of orange juice this morning and scrawled on the side was the following

for the love of
food…
Rounded sweetness and a burst of citrus aroma distinguish this special orange juice, made from ripe Latin American oranges.

This prompted the thought that it’s just orange juice. It’s made from concentrate, in a factory, and it’s pasteurised. It tastes like every other brand of orange juice, there’s nothing exotic about it and connoisseurs aren’t going to moisten their pants over the subtleties of its nose. It’s. Just. Orange. Juice.

Besides, who actually falls for the drivel that’s spoon-fed to us on a daily basis? Have you ever been swayed to buy something because it’s ‘extreme’, ‘max’ or ‘fusion’. When was the last time that the idea of ‘protensium’ made you think, “Hey, I really need to defy the ageing process, I’d like my face to travel backwards in time.”

Carling lager wants you to ‘Belong’, belong to what? They may as well desire that we ‘Rotate’ or ‘Huddle’, it’s gibberish.

Have I had my Weetabix? No I fucking haven’t.