For me, there is no cemetery. I sit on the stairs facing the bookcase on the landing where my father's ashes are beautifully boxed. Usually, I have a Coke and a couple of French fries in hand. Sometimes, I'll play an old Earth, Wind & Fire CD from my dad's collection, maybe Sammy Davis Jr., or Barry White.
The nutritional fable goes something like this: Rather than criticize industry for its questionable practices, health organizations should "sit at the table" with industry leaders and see what compromises can be reached. This all sounds wonderfully cooperative and democratic, but it also ignores some stark realities.
Public health and nutrition dialogues need clear, explicit messages. Naturally-occurring sugars and added sugars are very different animals. The same goes for processed foods. How is it that a national nutrition organization can simply choose not to recognize that cooking a pot of oatmeal is vastly different from making a Three Musketeers bar in a processing plant?