Jeans, Genes & Exercise Routines

I saw a news article (I do not know if it was a “real news” article or “fake news”) this past Wednesday that apparently has somehow been missed by the rest of the entire English speaking world. I didn’t see it in that failing newspaper from New York or any of the other “opposition party” news outlets. Sean Spicer did not even try to explain how the White House deserves credit for it.  The only mention of it was in this one website article that I happened upon.

As far as I am concerned, however, presuming that it was “real news,” the report contained in the article that I did see is perhaps of greater impact  than the return of original Coke; more comforting than a double extra-large DQ Double Stuff Oreo and M&M Blizzard; and, yes, maybe even more earth shattering than when the Cleveland Indians actually win a World Series.

And, when I tell you what it is, I can guaranty that each and every one of you is going to start doing a Google search (Yes, I am still the only one in civilized society that prefers a Bing search) to determine if I am BS’ing you. I assure you I am not.

I have reached that age where my kids have just about given up on trying to find me jeans that don’t make me look like Donald Trump in his golfing attire. I have purchased so many different brands of jeans in the hope that one of them would fit correctly instead of making my legs look like they are leftover pieces from Stonehenge, that the True Religion Brand Jeans Company is thinking of naming me one of its Apostles.

“Dad Jeans” would be a welcome look. Instead, my denim fashion appearance is closer to “Sad Jeans.” Both for me and the jeans. The last pair of jeans that I bought with my daughters was from a company called “Rag and Bone.” The girls had me get “skinny jeans.” Unfortunately, my “genes” lean more to the “over sixty and not so tall” fit. Instead of “Rag and Bone” I should have purchased “Gag and Moan” jeans. Talk about a “muffin top,” I have a “Cinnabon, cupcake and chicken pot pie top.”

I realize that our bodies tend to drop and droop as we get older but I do try to combat that nastiest of “nasty women,” Mother Nature’s, cruel jokes. While I don’t still participate in the 100 mile bike rides I used to do, I try to exercise at least four to five days a week (with the emphasis on “try”). And, I seek to eat relatively sensibly (except when it comes to pretzels (see: Pretzel Illogic), pizza, Mitchell’s ice-cream, Swedish Fish, hamburgers, blocks of white chocolate, Chipotle, Dairy Queen, movie popcorn, chili dogs, Slyman’s corned beef sandwiches, unlimited sushi buffets, and about 70 other things that slip my mind right at this moment).

Anyway, all of my angst could be drawing to a close. Imagine, if you will, a world where you can eat an entire Costco pepperoni pizza by yourself, chased down with a 6-pack of your favorite ale, followed by a quart of Ben and Jerry’s “Chunky Monkey,” and then working it all off by doing … Nothing! Or, if you prefer … by binge watching an entire season of “The Affair” on Netflix.

Well, fellow couch potatoes, according to scientists at the Salk Institute, as reported in the May 2, 2017 issue of Cell Metabolism, they have identified a gene “pathway” in mice that is naturally activated by running and other physical exercises. Now they have discovered how to activate that same pathway and reactions using a chemical compound that can be put in a pill. “Better living through chemistry” at its finest!

In other words, by ingesting this chemical compound (i.e. a pill) the mouse receives the same benefits that it would have gotten if it  bought a treadmill, put the treadmill in his  little bedroom and actually used the treadmill in the way it was intended to be used instead of as something on which to hang dirty clothes. These benefits include increased fat burning and increased stamina (look out, Barbara!) without the mouse having to do anything other than swallow the pill.

And, the best part is, if it works on mice, it will very likely work on humans because certain bodily processes in mice are the same as in humans, like slowly becoming one with the couch in the T.V. room or discovering body parts suddenly hanging over your belt and down to your knees. So, if it works on Mickey and Minnie, there is a chance it will work on you and me.

Now this report is not coming from just anybody. It is coming from an “institute.” Okay, I know, Bellvue Psychiatric Hospital is an “institute,” too, but the Salk Institute is not just any “institute.” The Salk Institute is an “institute” that actually has the term “institute” in its name!

Even further, when I searched for the “Salk Institute” on-line, I found that it received a review from Jessica D. in San Diego, California on “Yelp” that states:

Favorite spot for photography. Their hours changed to be open till 5:30pm and only on weekdays which is great to get that sunset shot.”

And, Byron W. of Sunnyvale, CA wrote:

I work right across the street from Salk and have always heard great things about the little cafeteria there.”

Clearly then, as you can see, I have done my “due diligence,” although I can’t guarantee you that Jessica and Byron were talking about the same Salk Institute that wrote the article in “Cell Metabolism.” But, it might be.

So now, while suckers like LeBron James and Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson are spending tens of thousands of dollars on exercise equipment and wasting hours and hours a day in the gym sweating and straining to maintain their physiques and stamina,  I can simply pop a couple of “exercise pills.” You will then find me at one of the local restaurants that have a “food challenge,” like trying to eat a 7 pound gyro with 1 pound of lamb, 1 pound of chicken, and 1 pound of pork on a 15 inch pita, topped with fries, or “The Tower of Beef” comprised of 3 pounds of meat, 3 complete hamburger buns, a variety of toppings, fries and beer. All while I’m getting in shape for this season of watching baseball and the basketball playoffs! (See: Food Challenges)

I figure I should be back in my “Rag and Bone” skinny jeans in about three weeks!! Four at the most if I am too exhausted to take the pill on a couple of occasions.