"Oh, have it?"

Loved this unnecessary snark at the end of a New York Times article about vegetarian/vegan diets and athletes:

In related news, I read all of the posts in the Well section of the Times because mental space occupied in recent months by calculations about my health/fitness/body can be measured by the cubic shit ton.  Imagine a rococo room where every curlicue represents a tangent about fats in almonds, VO2 maxes, Yasso 800s, nerve impingement, and the invariable Huffington Post slideshow on the ten meditation techniques that will give you runny bowels.  It's all so tangent there is no curve. 

There is no empty space, just invisible Google searches for "mouse lemurs."

This is what happens to your brain when you turn 31 and your body revolts, both in the transitive and intransitive sense.

Sorry, once-readers, if I remember how to string together a post that is not esoteric and irrelevant I will return with something properly considered and enlightening yet tender and laffy.  Until then:

The heart wants what it wants.