I have had it “up to here” with the organic movement. Okay, so maybe some chemicals are bad. I don’t like smearing bug spray on my skin, and don’t want to eat it. But the organic fanatics are out of control. I saw an ad the other day for Bottled Organic Water. Please, someone, lock up that marketing consultant before it’s too late.
If every farm in the world switched to organic farming, we will not have enough food to go around. Some people are already starving; that number will increase because organic farms produce less produce per acre than conventional chemical-loving farms.
Ohh, but “organic farming combats global warming,” you say. Hogwash. Or rather, cow manure. We’ve been hearing for years how cow farts are blowing holes in the ozone. What do organic farmers use? Cow manure. So, how can using more cow poop, thereby increasing the amount of methane released into the air, combat global warming? That is, IF global warming is real? So not siding with Al Gore on this one. The same Al Gore who flies all over the place in his personal jet, spewing all kinds of pollutants into the air to get us to stop polluting. The hypocrisy is painful, Al.
Stop telling me to eat like our early ancestors did. Aren’t these the same ancestors who died before they hit 30? Oh, but you say, they didn’t have modern medicine.
The “modern medicine” that kooks like Jenny McCarthy preaches against? Yes, Jenny, I do believe in immunizing children. Just filling them chock-full of vitamins and organic produce isn’t enough to keep polio (or any other dread disease) at bay. My cousin Normie caught polio when he was two – shortly before the polio vaccine came out. Trust me, he would have preferred the shot to the high fever, extreme muscle and abdominal pain, and a lifetime of wearing braces. He missed out on the simple joys of tiptoeing up behind a loved one, running through the park with his dog, and breaking out into a joyful dance. I hate to think that your children, and the children of other kooks like you might end up the same way, or worse.
Back to the Organics. Do they taste better? Not really. A side-by-side blind taste test was done by a local tv show about a year ago. People were told one piece of fruit was organic, and the other was not. Overall, they said that the one that tasted the best was probably the organic. When told which one was organic, they nearly always said that tasted better. And, when they were lied to and told that the non-organic fruit was organic, they said that one tasted better. Which means that people are buying into the hype, not the reality.
Plants don’t know which fertilizer is natural and which is man-made, because if the nutrients are the same, the plants absorb them the same. And, here’s something interesting: The standards for being labeled organic are pretty broad, so consumers don’t know exactly what it means when a farm is certified organic, and certification doesn’t really mean anything. And, here’s another shocker for you: Studies have shown there are no real health benefits of choosing organic food over typical food
When you get right down to it, the origin of everything we eat, wear, and use is the earth. Whether it is manipulated in “organic” or “conventional” ways, it all comes from the same place. And it will all end up in the same place when we’re finished with it. You may call me a cynic, a lunatic, out of touch, or a danger to the environment, but I’ll stick with the conventionally produced food that has sustained me all these years. And, I’ll drink my water straight from the tap. It will do me just fine.



I agree with you here, some forty years ago I spent a couple of years living east of Yuma, Arizona. The freeway had these exits and no one passing through would know why, it looked like a jack rabbit would need a bag lunch and a canteen to make it through a day. Yet, just over the hill the desert was full of canals from the Colorado River. With lots of fertilizer and water it was like the Garden of Eden (complete with snakes).
I wandered over by clicking your comment on The Bloggess. I felt compelled to say something nice in hopes that my late Mother might somehow feel proud of me for a moment.