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Diets for the Lost and Mortified

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Oh, how weak we have become. How whiny and wretched, tormented and convinced -- convinced! -- we simply cannot do even the most mildly difficult thing all by ourselves, lest we break, wail and beg for medication.

Behold, the latest micro-trend story that's not really a trend because no one you know is actually foolish enough to try it, all about how some otherwise healthy but still desperately inept women are paying large amounts of money to have a doctor insert a feeding tube up their noses, down their throats and into their stomachs. For multiple days at a time. By choice.

Are these people sick? Are they dying? Are they toothless and limbless and cannot feed themselves without spilling hot soup onto the rug? Are they Lady Gaga? No, they are not.

What they're doing, of course, is taking part in a radical new diet. You know, for morons.

Here's how it works: For 10 fun-filled days or so, the freshly inserted feeding tube attached to your face like an unhappy worm not only looks wonderful and feels awesome, but it also slowly drips miserable liquid nutrients into your stomach so that you may stop eating regular food and crash out your system, all so that you may finally, finally lose those 10 extra pounds that just won't go away by thinking about them, beating them with a meatball sandwich or, you know, actually working for it.

The ultimate goal? No, not better health, silly. That would be far too intelligent and thoughtful. The goal, of course, is to finally fit into that snug wedding dress, so as look presentable in the wedding photos and feel happy and skinny-ish for a day, safe in the knowledge that you will immediately gain the 10 pounds back in a week or two and never look that way again. See? Marriage is fun!

Is that too harsh? Unfair? I'm not so sure. But is it really all that big of a deal? Probably not. Just more mal-attuned humans (and believe me, men are certainly no strangers to dumbly extreme body torments, either) joining the long-standing American tradition of brutally restrictive food regimens designed to force the body into this or that antagonistic contortion for the least salubrious of reasons. Hey, it's what we do.

What's more, I'm well aware the Sad Drip Diet (or whatever it's called) is far from the most extreme diet out there (like surgery, vomiting, staring at a photo of Rick Santorum long enough that you become far too ill to eat). It's just the latest, and perhaps the dumbest. Except for all the rest.

Let me be clear. I'm all for losing those 10 pounds. Hell, make it 20 if you want. I'm all for getting fit, feeling deeply healthy and alive in all parts and flavors of your skin. But the equation is violently perverted if you're more willing to suffer the indignity of walking around with a feeding tube shoved down your face than you are to simply re-evaluate how you approach food and exercise, or to earn a profounder understanding of beauty and health. But maybe that's just me.

As we pause to digest this cultural gem, let us turn our attention to the screaming hellbirth of a new fast food product that very much wants everyone who consumes it, dead.

Let us observe, with equal parts horror, revulsion, and honest appreciation for the genius involved, the arrival of Pizza Hut's new hot dog stuffed crust pizza, available (so far) only in the U.K., where this sodium-blasted colon grenade has apparently been killing people for many days already. Britain! When it comes to destroying the body as quickly and brutally as possible, they don't screw around.

It's a proud moment...

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Mark Morford is the author of The Daring Spectacle: Adventures in Deviant Journalism, a mega-collection of his finest columns for the San Francisco Chronicle and SFGate. He recently requested that you please join his Tantric yoga sex cult, discussed how to be outraged in America and begged you Oh my God please do not eat this. Join him on Facebook, or email him. Not to mention...