Death in the Fast LaLanne
Or
End of LaLanne
Or
Image: Ruined
Or
If He’s So Fit, Why the Obit?
(Kudos to Monty)
Jack LaLanne, who showed that one can live a long life if one is willing to give up the things worth living for, has died of tediousness at the age of 96. A typical deeply troubled 15-year-old boy in San Francisco who claimed that sugar and junk food had led him to attempt suicide and to try to burn down the house – and keep in mind this was 1929 junk food that made Charleston Chews look appealing, so he would have been a serial killer if Cheetos and dark chocolate M&M’s had been around – LaLanne had a quarter-life crisis and became obsessed with exercise and nutrition to the exclusion of all other interests. This obsession, combined with Ron Popiel-esque hucksterism, made him the founder of the physical fitness movement, which begot muscle-bound gym rats, which begot the explosion in the use of anabolic steroids, which begot tiny, shriveled testicles, so at least none of these sociopaths can breed. With no medical training, other than chiropractor school, so you know he’s on the level, he opened his first fitness spa with a gym, juice bar and health food store in Oakland in 1936, and as anyone familiar with Al Davis can tell you, nothing good has ever come out of Oakland. Doctors saw through his spiel and realized he was insane, intent on inducing heart attacks and costing people their sex drive, but he scored himself a TV show in 1951, and if it’s on TV, it must be true, and his demonic reign spread. His altruistic interest in health led him to open dozens of fitness studios, which he sold to Bally, invent many of the modern torture devices found in gyms, like leg extension and pulley devices and the Juice Tiger, which blended raw fruits and vegetables while occasionally maiming users, and sold dozens of exercise videos and books, even drawing the elderly and disabled into his web of terror. Along the way, he turned his life into a series of That’s Incredible episodes: at 60 he swam from Alcatraz Island to Fisherman’s Wharf handcuffed, shackled and towing a 1,000-pound boat; at 70, handcuffed and shackled again, he towed 70 boats, carrying a total of 70 people, a mile and a half through Long Beach Harbor. To fuel his mania, he lived by the credo that if it “tastes good, spit it out,” instead relying on hardboiled egg whites, broth, soy milk, raw vegetables and salmon, with his lone luxury being an occasional roast turkey sandwich.
End of LaLanne
Or
Image: Ruined
Or
If He’s So Fit, Why the Obit?
(Kudos to Monty)
Jack LaLanne, who showed that one can live a long life if one is willing to give up the things worth living for, has died of tediousness at the age of 96. A typical deeply troubled 15-year-old boy in San Francisco who claimed that sugar and junk food had led him to attempt suicide and to try to burn down the house – and keep in mind this was 1929 junk food that made Charleston Chews look appealing, so he would have been a serial killer if Cheetos and dark chocolate M&M’s had been around – LaLanne had a quarter-life crisis and became obsessed with exercise and nutrition to the exclusion of all other interests. This obsession, combined with Ron Popiel-esque hucksterism, made him the founder of the physical fitness movement, which begot muscle-bound gym rats, which begot the explosion in the use of anabolic steroids, which begot tiny, shriveled testicles, so at least none of these sociopaths can breed. With no medical training, other than chiropractor school, so you know he’s on the level, he opened his first fitness spa with a gym, juice bar and health food store in Oakland in 1936, and as anyone familiar with Al Davis can tell you, nothing good has ever come out of Oakland. Doctors saw through his spiel and realized he was insane, intent on inducing heart attacks and costing people their sex drive, but he scored himself a TV show in 1951, and if it’s on TV, it must be true, and his demonic reign spread. His altruistic interest in health led him to open dozens of fitness studios, which he sold to Bally, invent many of the modern torture devices found in gyms, like leg extension and pulley devices and the Juice Tiger, which blended raw fruits and vegetables while occasionally maiming users, and sold dozens of exercise videos and books, even drawing the elderly and disabled into his web of terror. Along the way, he turned his life into a series of That’s Incredible episodes: at 60 he swam from Alcatraz Island to Fisherman’s Wharf handcuffed, shackled and towing a 1,000-pound boat; at 70, handcuffed and shackled again, he towed 70 boats, carrying a total of 70 people, a mile and a half through Long Beach Harbor. To fuel his mania, he lived by the credo that if it “tastes good, spit it out,” instead relying on hardboiled egg whites, broth, soy milk, raw vegetables and salmon, with his lone luxury being an occasional roast turkey sandwich.
posted by The Grim Reaper at 9:25 PM
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