March 2010, I started my blog. March 2011, I started writing for Sun Media. And March 2012 ...

I start my nationwide column with Sun Media: #eSaidSheSaid.

It's social media meets pop culture. I will offer a real voice to trending topics as they apply to real people. Exactly what my loyal fans have come to expect of me. So, if e- said it, I'll have something to say about it too.

And to celebrate the debut, let's celebrate YOU, the readers, with a pretty swank giveaway ...

For the first contest, perhaps the sleekest phone on the market - a Sony Ericsson Xperia Ray - is up for grabs. It's an android powered device from TELUS, with a retail value of $379.99. (But we all know it's really valued at $380.)

So how do you win?

That's e-asy.

There are two ways to enter:

1. "Like" my Facebook fan page Dahlia Kurtz: #eSaidSheSaid. (If you've already liked it, you can leave a fresh comment instead.)

OR,

2. Follow me on Twitter @DahliaKurtz AND tweet something WITH the hashtag #eSaidSheSaid.

You have until Sunday March 25th at 11:59pm EDT to enter. Of course Team Legalese wants me to say more, but you can just read the full rules and eligibility stuff here.

_It is national non-smoking week, but after watching an inane exchange on the news yesterday, I propose that a national non-stupid week is perhaps more in order.

Now, this television interview between a reporter and some woman off the street – who didn’t want to be identified by name for fear that she’d reveal her identity – surpasses almost every threshold of stupid imaginable.

Thresholds one through five were of course instantly surpassed by the woman’s declaration that she wanted to remain anonymous – while being broadcast live on the most-watched news station – in one of the country’s biggest cities.

If you appear on TV, not even dark sunglasses can mask your identity – or your stupid – when your nuclear orange skin, long dark hair, and mindless comments clearly expose that you are either Snooki, or a reject from The Jersey Shore casting. 

So, in an effort to get national non-stupid week off the ground, I have transcribed the aforementioned news interview, verbatim. You just can’t make this stuff up:

_Reporter: I have one guest right now and she asked that I not use her name, because she wants to protect her privacy ... We're talking about national non-smoking week. You are a smoker. Let me ask you first, how long have you been a smoker?

Stupid: I've been smoking for eight years.



Reporter: So, what made you start smoking, if I could ask?



Stupid: It was a long time ago, but it started out pretty much for, like, a stress reliever and it's been like that since.



Reporter: So, here we are for this national non-smoking week. They're asking people to maybe stop smoking for a week. Is this something you would maybe think about?



Stupid: I would consider it. And I see the pros of it, but then again, it's more of your freedom if you want to do it or not. So, I would be against a national-wide quit smoking initiative.

Yes, Stupid is against a “national-wide” quit smoking initiative, because it’s “more of your freedom if you want to do it or not.”

Well, I am for a nation-wide non-stupid initiative, because of people like Stupid. Who’s with me?

Sometimes I wish I were my husband so I wouldn’t have to make supper. And then I realize if I were that guy without someone to cook for me I’d probably resort to foodstuffs – like ketchup – for supper.

So sometimes you just have to treat yourself, or sometimes you’re lucky enough to have Samba Days treat you to a gift experience.

And for those of you who are so practical that you’d rather put that money to the hydro bill than treating yourself, your friends can get you a Samba Days gift experience for Christmas, forcing you to put yourself before the electricity. 

As a Sambassador, I’ve been afforded opportunities to do lots of cool things. Among some of the fun times I’ve had, I went tubing and ziplining, been pampered with spa treatments, learned to create espresso foam art like an aspiring barista, and had the opportunity to DJ wiki-wiki-wiki style, alongside my husband OCD-J.

And my latest addition to this list: date night at TAPPO Wine Bar and Restaurant in Toronto’s trendy Distillery District. 

From our first steps into the Distillery, it felt like we had walked onto a lavish backlot of a Hollywood movie. Old stone and wood buildings surrounded the cobblestone path, with white lights strewn above our heads in web-like patterns. 

That's not all. Add in the carousel, the Ferris wheel, and bunch of extras not even phased by the zero degree night, then lay a spirited music track over it, and you’ve got a romantic comedy starring Launy and Dahlia AKA Chico and Sweetness. (With the two of us, emphasis on the comedy part, which I in fact find quite romantic).

You know what else is romantic? Eating. And by that I mean it’s a romance between my food and me. I love food. (So much so that I've worked hard to turn unhealthy superduperlicious recipes into healthy superduperlicious recipes.)

So, we enter TAPPO and we discover what feels like an old winery in Tuscany that has adjusted to the 21st century.

Stone, cave-like walls, dark wood, white tablecloths, warm glowing lights … With ambience like this, tasty food becomes even tastier. (And good-looking company becomes even good-looking-er. Low lights are everybody’s friends.)

Now, as a vegetarian, I’ve had every restaurant’s typical salad, grilled or otherwise, and I’ve also had every restaurant’s typical pasta and red sauce or pasta and vegetables dish. Yawn.

TAPPO takes typical and de-typifies it (and I don’t use alliteration lightly).

The posh spot is known for its wine selection, while I’m known for just selecting sweet wines. So I ordered the sweetest rosé on the menu and we were off …

My antipasto: Insalata di zucchini alla griglia ($16)

This is grilled zucchini (almost shaved), basil, sweet cherry tomatoes, with real-deal buffalo mozzarella (so real-deal you want to say it with an Italian accent: booffaloh mozzarella) … BUT, the dealbreaker, a preserved lemon chili dressing. 

The first few ingredients may not seem so different from other grilled veg salads, but the dressing is what takes this dish to another level – that level where you want to demand more. 

The lemon chili preserve atop the three clouds of booffaloh mozzarella is somewhat reminiscent of a savoury lemon meringue pie. The brightness of the lemon sparkles in your mouth, while the chili subtly hits in the background to awaken your palette. And you actually taste the vegetables in a whole new way. Brilliant.

His antipasto (also vegetarian-friendly, but meat-eater approved): Arrancini ai funghi ($13)

A trio of fried mushroom and truffle risotto balls in an herbed panko crust, sitting atop a dip-worthy portion of tomato sauce and fresh herbs. But after the word “truffle” were any other words even necessary? Enough said.

My primo piatto: Ravioli ai fughi di bosco ($24)

I was hesitant to order this dish with wild mushroom ravioli and sundried tomatoes in a creamy Parmigiano sauce, because it sounded too rich for my oxygen rich runner’s blood. So, in ordering it I resolved to wipe away the excess sauce, but there was no excess. Each perfectly al dente raviolo was delicately coated in the cheesy cream. 

Though the dish was rich, it was concentrated – like me – so you can enjoy the moderate splurge. (And I must confess, there was a little sauce left in the end – well actually there wasn’t after I got through with it.) 

His secondo piatto: Filetto di manzo alla griglia ($38)

As a vegetarian, I must use my omnivore counterpart’s words to describe his pan seared and peppercorn encrusted beef tenderloin. (Although his herbed mashed potatoes and fine green beans with Gorgonzola cream looked good to me.) So, in his words:

“__________  __________ _____________.  _____________ _________ __________ ___ _ _________.”

That’s right. The man who never stops talking stopped talking. He just ate.

After which, he explained the mashed potatoes had lovely bits of homestyle potato chunks, the greens beans were crisp and unduly flavourful for green beans, and the steak was cooked perfectly to order, while the peppercorn sauce was lightly spiced, but done just right. His only complaint was that he would’ve loved to have more peppercorn sauce on the plate – or in a large glass.

Dessert: Tiramisu

If you decide to share the tiramisu, don’t. Don’t share it that is. 

Yes, it is a cliché dessert to order at an Italian restaurant. But the indulgence was not cliché at all. Thankfully, I managed to steal most of the berries, including the gooseberry for the win. (Never ignore the fruit when it comes with dessert. That’s criminal. The only exception is if I’m with you. Then, you should give me all the fruit that comes with it.)

The coffee flavour shone through each bite of the tiramisu, but never overwhelmed it. And though it is deceptively light and silky, you know the mascarpone is indubitably decadent, but ultimately that’s okay, because it is calorie-free.

In reality, the whole night was calorie-free – all special occasions are, right?

All in all, TAPPO is an ambient-rich restaurant, with gracious servers and speedy service. But reservations are a must. Though people wanted in so bad, all agreed to the hour and a half wait. 

Also it is especially great for dates. (And just because you’re married, it doesn’t mean you stop dating, you just stop dating other people, save your spouse.)

With delightful dishes, and real flowers on the table, the wine bar and restaurant sets itself apart from the norm, offering something for everyone from omnivores to fussy vegetarian cookbook writers. And it’s an ideal gift for those who don’t offer enough to themselves.

So go for it. It’s time to indulge. Do it. Try it. And get your own tiramisu.


(See all our TAPPO date night pictures here.)

Look closely at this picture to the left. What do you see? No, not the half-naked girl. Look again. Bottom right corner. You see a glimpse of me revealing my dirty little secret to Canada and the world - in a double-page spread. 

After the jump, check out my story in Sportsnet Magazine, Canada's leading all-sports glossy, as I pioneer two things: a new sport for sports magazines, and a photo shoot for a 5-foot-nothin' non-celebrity:

I am afraid of everything. But, I am not afraid to do anything.

It’s funny, when Samba Days gave me the opportunity to select from its seemingly endless list of gift experiences, rather than choose from categories such as Wine, Gourmet, Getaway, Body and Soul, or Life and Culture, I found myself choosing from Explore and Adventure.

Yes, I passed up the opportunity for delightful spa treatments and tasty pampering experiences to harness myself to a cable 35 feet above the hard, rocky ground, and wear (an impressively disinfected) helmet that may not have been conducive to maintaining my hairstyle, but was beneficial in making me feel like a stunt-double in a Michael Bay movie.

I went ziplining.

Ziplining is not one of those things I’ve always wanted to, or at least I never realized it was.

To soar across an open landscape at 45 kmh is something I often tried to do as a kid. Jumping off the rocking chair was the closest I ever got however.

And for that millisecond, I did fly. Of course, my imagination made that instant feel like an eon.

But on this day, I didn’t need my imagination; I just needed courage.

You see, I have been known to do crazy adventurous things...

But to accomplish feared feats does not make one fearless.

Some years ago, I was “Danger Girl,” a radio personality who started out broadcasting while submerged in a tank of water – for 48 hours – to raise money for sick kids.

I got the gig on the premise that I wasn’t afraid of anything. But, like I’ve told you, I’m afraid of everything. Especially water.

The instinctive response to fear is to walk away, but sometimes the logical response to fear is to face it. From far away it can seem much bigger than it actually is, and the closer you get the smaller it can become.

Two years ago, a lady in an SUV ran a red light and ran into my car and me – perhaps the worst and best thing that ever happened to me.

Suddenly, I realized I was not invincible. I have an expiry date. So, I want to take full advantage of the life I have and live it. Live big. (Though some may argue that my hair has always lived big.)

Now, standing on a staircase, made up of four steps, with 35 feet of air under it, with rocks and the hard ground under that, and a skull fracture and broken bones atop that, I look out at the 1000 feet of cable that runs from the top of the hill to the bottom, and realize something:

Four-year-olds have done this. In fact, a four-year-old is about to take to another zipline beside me.

And I’m off.

At around 45 kmh the flight is way faster than the ones I took from the rocking chair as a kid.

About 20-something seconds later, I’ve made my way down the hill, and a spring abruptly stops me. In an act of fury, perhaps determined to protect my head on its own, my hair throws my helmet off, and my head does hit the cable once stopped. And within that split second, the spring launches me forward.

Even without my helmet, I’ve managed to maintain Chicopee Tube Park’s “flawless” safety record.

And it’s back up the hill to fly again four more times.

Admittedly, if you have neck problems from, say, a car accident, the spring “landing” can feel a bit harsh, but if you’ve been in a car accident the overall experience of the adventure may make it worth it.

And a harness that adds a little J.Lo to your assets definitely makes it worth it.

After the ziplining, tubing serves almost as a digestif. On the same hill are two tubing courses made of some sort of slippery plastic: One windy, and one speedy.

Get comfy in your tube and slide right down with virtually zero element of fear, and without having to brave elements below zero.

Like sledding without snow, it’s perfect for a Canadian like me who hates winter.

(Hmm… am I still allowed to call myself Canadian?)

So there you have it. My first adventure as a Sambassador...

And I lived – big – to tell about it.

If you want to check out my complete zipline photo album, with perhaps some photos of me making a fool of myself, zip on over here.

And for my tubular escapades, check out these pics.

Now, I have established a reputation as one who fights for her right not to vote, because regardless who wins most elections, I will be unhappy with the outcome.

It’s like asking me if I want pork or chicken for supper. I am vegetarian. I choose neither. And with all the pigs and chickens on our election ballots, there is no point for me to vote.

Quite frankly, though the mainstream parties in Canada run the left-centre-right gamut, they are each just slight variations of the other.

The NDP is as left-wing as a chicken with one wing (a right one), the Conservatives are as right-wing as the Liberals when catering to the popular vote, while the Liberals are quite liberal with their ineptness.

But, come the next Election Day, I could make an exception, should the powers-that-want-to-be adhere to my following six guidelines.

How to get me to vote for you:

1.    Stop with the mudslinging campaigns and commercials. Shoot a commercial on a basic camera and have your leader recite these words: “Rather than make pointless, mudslinging commercials that serve only to take jabs at our opponents, because we have nothing truly good to promote about ourselves, we have decided to donate our entire campaign budget to [insert name of *cause or charity here].”

*Note: You are not considered a cause.

2.    Admit that today’s promises are tomorrow’s lies, and refrain from making ANY promises whatsoever.

3.    Tell us that you plan to cut spending on important social services, increase taxes for the poor, increase corporate welfare, and accommodate lobbyists, such as pharmaceuticals. For instance, explain to us that in order to live, many cancer patients, will continue to be forced to pay thousands and thousands of dollars for medications worth pennies on the dollar...

(Trust me, it makes me angry to hear these things, but it makes me even angrier when you lie about it.)

4.    If you do not agree with the party in power, do not force an election, setting off four elections within seven years, while citing this as a profound need for democracy. Democracy is a government fueled by its people. Canada’s people have overwhelmingly stated they don’t want another election.

5.    Don’t try to justify any cuts you plan to make by telling us that it is a small price to pay to save the poor or the middle class. Never has. Never will. You all waste our money. All of you.

6.    Don’t wax poetic about another politician’s contempt. Contempt is an open disrespect for a person or an idea. All of you openly disrespect Canada’s persons and ideas daily. So shut your lie-holes.

And there you have it!

I’m not asking for much. I’m not asking you to change your self-serving ideologies or manage any budgets in a socially responsible way. I’m not even asking that you focus on the economy, education, homelessness, or even putting the care back in healthcare (I’ve already given up on the universal part).

Just please, NO PROMISES. 

All I ask is that you tell me all those things that I don’t want to hear, and that you go ahead and do (and not do) all those things that have zero benefit and/or potential harm for the majority of citizens and residents.

Seriously, these guidelines are so easy that all politicians should be able to do them, as long as you don’t make them count them out on their fingers. Six is a very high number after all, and they need that second hand to hold up to the wind.

Teen pregnancy is apparently at an all-time low in the United States. Or, is it that teen abortion is at an all-time high?

According to the Center for Disease Control, the pregnancy rate for the LOL-OMG Generation has hit its lowest since tracking began 70 years ago.  

But what does that really mean?

It means that statistics tell as much of the story as a teenager after a night out with “friends.”

First, lest we forget, there were many teen pregnancies years ago, as 18-year-olds were getting pregnant before their husbands went off to war ...

Second, in recent years, use of the morning after pill has soared; one in eight 16-year-old girls have tried it at least once after having sex. That just includes reported cases and does not include information for those younger than 16. 

Third, abortion is one of the most common surgeries performed in the United States. The math is simple, one minus one equals zero.

And, yes … yay … teenagers are practising safer sex, using birth control and making better selections by protecting their erections.

So, why is it that more than 400,000 American teens get pregnant each year? Could it be that more of them are having S-E-X?

Well, 46% of the pants-on-the-grounders admit to having good reason for never really pulling those pants up. Between 10 and 14% of them are proud to report that they never use protection.

(And between who-knows-what per cent and what per cent are lying that they even use contraception.)

Then there’s the form of natural contraception: infertility. Today, both males and females are less fertile than they used to be; fertility is rapidly on the decline. So, despite failing fecundity, more abortions, and increased use of birth control methods, kids are still succeeding at ruining their lives and their children’s lives.

Ironically, the most effective forms of contraception out there are the funding cuts to Planned Parenthood.

Those cuts are like a condom on the organization, blocking its ability to plant its seed in the minds of kids. As such, the organization is becoming more and more impotent, forced to close down more and more branches.

Planned Parenthood just can’t engage as it so desires. Abstinence isn’t always a good thing, is it?

Let’s just face it. Kids today are having lots o’ sex -- far more than kids of 70 years ago. And that’s not even including the oral and anal sex, because as most of them see it, those don’t count.

But their STDs sure do add up.

Back in 2008, the CDC cited one in four teen girls had an STD. Today, those numbers are rising, but because those numbers are crying in baby carriages people are too distracted to hear them.

To boast that teen pregnancy is at a record low is looking at the glass half-pregnant. And we all know there’s no such thing as half-pregnant.

Yes, there are fewer babies, but there are still way, way too many babies. There is also more sex, more STDs -- and more drug use (and that is a separate story, which you can find here).

So what is needed to slow this down? Funding. Education. An end to poverty.

“I thought you was an educated girl. Now you done got yourself pregnant. How’d this happen?” says a teen mom’s mom on the reality show 16 and Pregnant.

Funding. Education. An end to poverty.

“I feel like a loser. I'm 18, live at home with my mom and have NO job. So I wanna move into my own place," says a teen dad on the reality show Teen Mom.

Funding. Education. An end to poverty.

Teen dad to teen mom, whom he met nine months ago, "I don't wanna rush into anything." (Well, he certainly rushed into – ahem – something.)

Again … Funding. Education. An ounce of common sense.

Look, kids are gonna have sex. Kids are gonna do drugs. Kids are often gonna want to do a lot of don’ts. After all, a don’t is just an invitation to do.

But we can help prevent a lot of this. Not by telling teens what they should and shouldn’t do; rather, by teaching teens the consequences of what they do and creating an environment that breeds education and healthy lives - not babies.

And we should start educating ourselves by opening our eyes. Yes, teen pregnancy is at an all-time low …

Unfortunately, our vision is as well.

Women. We are the worst.

A British study finds that females over the age of 33 should dress like they are 66. Which is odd, because I thought 66 was the new 33.
 
Yes, in this survey of 2,000 embreasted and embittered people, it has been concluded that miniskirts must be skirted after 35, at which point naval piercings are also nay, and ponytails must be curtailed after 51.

Oh, and this is just the tip of the women-can-be-cold-as iceberg.

No sneakers after 44 and no swimsuits after 61. By this notion, perhaps broken hips and painful joints are more en vogue than sneakers and swimsuits?

The list of don’ts goes on.

Still, the most important don’t to take from this survey?

Don’t believe it.

Of course, since this study [pronounced: crucifixion] has been released, there are those who point to celebrities such as Madonna, Sharon Stone, Jennifer Aniston, and Demi Moore.

Bravo. Let’s prove a survey wrong by citing tampered evidence.

How’s about we prove it wrong by example?

Now, I’m not proud of it, but I will admit I sometimes look at other women and compare myself to them. This is just how it is.

“I wish I had her skin.”

“If only I could be as tall as she is.”

“I have nicer shaped thumbnails than she does.” (Yes, we can be very detailed oriented.)

So, even though this study was performed in Britain, by no means are its results exclusive to British women. Women are by nature – and nurture – a critical bunch.

And that’s critiquing it lightly.

Seriously, it’s not bad enough that we live in a world where you are never the prettiest girl, but where you are always encouraged to be her.

We also have to live in a world where we victimize ourselves AND others AND then cry, “Why me?”

That’s right, women. Not only are we the ones doing so much of this malevolent encouraging, but we are also the ones doing so much of the melancholic whining.

Yes, the media perpetuates this. Yes, it’s like a cancer of society that robs us of our potential, as we strive through futility to achieve fleeting goals of physical beauty and acceptance.

Yes, we all know this.

We just can’t accept this, because that means we have to face ourselves stripped of the superficial.

And then who are we?

Apparently, more than two thirds of participants in the survey agree that women should just grow old gracefully.

Graceful means kind, stylish, charming, elegant … which indicates that more than two thirds of those surveyed either have a poor command of the English language, or are not the least bit graceful themselves.

Well, since we seem to like don’ts so much, here are the two most important don’ts to follow:

1. Don’t give others permission to tear you down. You do a good enough job of that on your own; and,

2. Don’t tear others down. If you take a piece out from the pyramid it will fall. 

Wear what makes you feel good. Dress in whatever way makes you feel like you.

I’m not saying to go to Teeny Boppers Are Us and buy a bubble gum belly shirt (unless you are Betsey Johnson, because then that just may be you.)

Of course we all make unflattering choices from time to time, but these choices don’t define us, instead they should help refine us.

Just look back at your teenage years, you thought you had it together, now you can’t believe what you looked like. Know that as you age, your youth isn’t taken from you; on the contrary, it is what shapes you.

So, in the end, this survey has zero value, other than serving as an example of the self-destructive flaws of women.

That said, rather than focus on how others shouldn’t live, focus on how you should.

And remember, as I always say (and sadly all too often forget), it’s perfectly wonderful to be nowhere near perfect.

In an effort to curb an obesity epidemic that’s eating the country, Canadian researchers suggest a tax be placed on all junk food. Dr. Mark Eisenberg is lead researcher in the junk study and says obesity related deaths and illnesses could be reduced if the government steps in.

Chips, chocolate, cakes, cookies – they want them all taxed. But why stop there?

You know what else should be taxed? White bread, white rice, white pasta, refined sugars, instant artificially-flavoured oatmeal, ready-made soups and sauces … 

Junk. Garbage. They all have little to no nutritional value, and what little value they may have is negated by their over-processed properties.

Tax ‘em. 

And if we’re taxing things that lead to obesity related deaths and illness, that is just the tip of the taxberg.

As a certified personal trainer and nutrition and wellness specialist, I think we should add a LAZY TAX to all factors that contribute to obesity. Here are some of my recommendations:

1. Tax anybody who doesn’t go to the gym.
Exercise is a huge component of overall health, and everybody must work out to prevent obesity related deaths. Just because you are skinny, it doesn’t mean your insides aren’t fat.

2. Tax anybody who goes to the gym and doesn’t do a proper workout.
Don’t just go to the gym to talk on your cell phone, or socialize with your friends and compare Lululemon outfits. If you do not put in an effort and balance cardio, resistance, and flexibility training, you are just wasting your time and taxpayers’ money on your eventual health problems.

3. Tax computers and televisions.
Junk food for the brain. Not to mention all the sitting these products encourage.

4. Sofas.
If computers and TVs encourage laziness, sofas enable it.

5. High-heeled shoes.
Sneaky culprits these shoes are. Other than Carrie from Sex and the City, how many women do you know who actually go for serious walks in these lower back and heart health offenders? In effect, they are often either sitting or standing shoes. Sitting and standing are simply euphemisms for lazing.

6. Cars.
Granted these fatmobiles are already taxed to death in so many ways, but they still need another tax attack to help prevent death.

And, you know, it’s fascinating how many people drive to the gym, only to spend their time searching for the closest parking spot. Cardio? Or cardiNO?

Of course, there are times when a car is the only option, but so what? Junk food and its low cost is sometimes the only option to poor people, so that’s not an excuse.

Try walking. Sure, we may have to tax you should you decide to choose a shortcut, but I’ll recommend that as a lower tax than the one for your car.

7. Public transportation.
This is just the poor man’s car. Definitely taxable.

8. Maids.
Let’s see ... You hire somebody to clean up your mess? Not only is this a taxable luxury, but the maid should get a tax credit for the extra activity. (See, I’m not that heartless.)

9. Snowblowers.
I don’t care if you’ve had a heart attack or if you’re a candidate for one if you shovel. If you cannot shovel your driveway, like a true Canadian should, you are lazy and should be taxed, and perhaps revoked of your citizenship all together.

More to the point, maybe if you avoided all the lazy, fattening items on this list, you would be able to shovel now.

Finally, if you need to shovel your driveway, you probably have a car. And you know how I feel about cars.

10. Poor people.
It’s no coincidence that the poorest people in Canada are often the fattest people in the country, as I detailed in a previous article: “Poor kids: The richer the nation the fatter the poor.”  

So, if the nation’s poorest are statistically its heaviest, taxing them more should help fix the problem. Clearly they are the laziest of the bunch. If they weren’t so lazy they’d be rich, right? TAXED!

Look, people are inclined to eat and be lazy. Advertisers and businesses are inclined to play upon these desires. It is how they make their money. So, if the government intends to tax every food item – that it deems to be junk – then shouldn’t it also tax advertisers, manufacturers, distributors, and suppliers of these items?

Ultimately, we should add an extra tax to all money too, because money makes people lazy.

But, the coolest part of all this entire crap tax idea?

If your health doesn’t kill you first, these taxes will.

(Note: Beyond laziness and Frankenfoods, stress has been linked to all the leading causes of death. So, bosses, or companies, or governments who impose stress upon any individual should also be taxed, right?)