Category Archives: Rants

Worst.. Cover.. Ever! Don’t Stop Believing!

Huge controversy in social web land today! In which I was merely trying to post an awesome live version of one of the best power ballads ever written, and eventually many a tear was shed over a mean cross-posting of a video of some constructed teenage group blatantly mangling the soft rock classic..

Alright, I’m gonna make an assumption here.. We all love Journey? Right?

No? On the odd chance that one or two of you should go “Journey? Who?”, well, first of all, you should be ashamed of yourself, secondly, here’s a clip to refresh your memory – or knock some rock history into you.

Fine, now that we all love Journey, we can get back to my story which simply involved me merely trying to prove the point that I just made, by posting this clip of Journey’s classic “Don’t Stop Believing” to Facebook:

And since I can’t embed the content from Facebook on here, here’s the video link as well showing that the metalheads at UK’s Download festival were indeed going bonkers for Journey:

Of course it didn’t take long for people to start agreeing with me:

Neither did it take very long for my old British mate, Matt, to start stirring up trouble and spreading a bit of bile:

It should have stopped there, of course, but as could be expected, Matt (being a friend of mine and sharing a lot of personal traits with me) decided that he wasn’t about to suffer alone and be alone in hating the remake of “Don’t Stop Believing”, so he went on to share:

And again, because I love you, dear readers, the Youtube version:

Which was met with an initial response of:

And umm, yeah.. What can I say? Lars nails it.. Usually bad covers make me upset and angry, this one just makes me want to cry.. I mean, those poor little kids couldn’t sing to save their lives, not even with auto-tune and the countless of other vocal effects added to their little voices.. It’s just sad, despicable and wrong.. Eww! This is officially the worst song I’ve heard since the lovely Pernille attacked me with that rotten Johnny Rotten song one late summer evening many a month ago..

Actually, this may be worse..

For a minute there I nearly stopped believing.. Leave the classics alone, you damn young whippersnappers of today!

It’s hard to stay upset..

If you have friends like mine.. Take this past Friday, for example. I was really trying my hardest to be pissed about my situation. I wasn’t so much fuming about not being offered the position i so wanted, as I was fuming over the fact that they weren’t prepared to give me an explanation as to why I wasn’t given the position. Regardless, the fact of the matter is I was fuming.

Actually, for large parts of the day, Friday wasn’t a particularly good day. Aside from me being upset, it just seemed like one of those Murphy’s Law days where everything that could go wrong did indeed go wrong. Which, frankly, worried me a bit because I had a long-awaited date Friday evening with my two, little guardian angels, Tina and Emelie, whom I had promised to cook dinner for while they did their usual Friday afternoon workout routine.. And, well, let’s just say that I REALLY didn’t want to be the one to play the rule of the grumpy old fool screwing up dinner and wrecking all sorts of havoc in such great company.

But with the way my day was going, for a long while it seemed like it was gonna turn out that way. It’s not that the girls, in their own lovable ways, didn’t try to lighten up my day from the beginning with sweet, caring text messages and it’s not like I didn’t try to make the best of the day.. I just seemed to fail miserable at whatever I did. Be that taking active part in my job seeking course, writing applications, even grocery shopping I seemed to fail miserably at, earning me several consecutive trips to the store before managing to get everything I needed for the evening..

When I finally made it back from my umpteenth trip to the store, I only barely had time to bag up my stuff, get everything ready and head on down to Tina’s where I was supposed to have dinner well under way by the time the girls got back from their workout.. I was in a hurry, it was gonna be close, but if my calculations were correct, I’d make it. I’d even brought a Belgian Xmas brew that I figured I’d share with myself in a moment of quiet reflection while cooking dinner. As I neared Tina’s, I checked my watch and triumphantly thought: “I’m gonna make it.. I’m gonna make it.. Wait, I’m a fucking idiot!” The last line of that thought came to me as I realized that I’d forgotten my recently purchased huge chunk of Parmesan cheese at home in my effort to quickly empty the fridge.. And well, my Pasta Bolognese just wouldn’t be the same without it.. So with time running out, I turned about and power walked back home for it as fast as I possibly could. Which, incidentally, wasn’t very fast as I’m horribly out of shape.

Fast forward some 30 minutes and I was back at Tina’s, only this time packing the all-important lump of cheese. I was also quickly running out of time, sprinting up the stairs. locking myself in, getting everything out and ready to start dinner preparations, wiping the sweat off my forehead and trying as nonchalantly to kick back and look not at all stressed out as I knew that the girls were due home from their workout any minute. It was as this time I decided to relax, grab a glass and open the expensive brew I had brought to share with myself after an impossibly hard and stupid day. So I broke out the beer, the bottle opener and popped the bottle only to find out that it was now not only a horribly expensive beer, it was also a very shaken up horribly expensive beer, almost half of which was now flying all over the kitchen much to my dismay. Sulking, I cleaned up my mess, poured what little I had left of the beer into a wine glass and stood there looking at it sadly and hopelessly..

Which is exactly the point when the girls decided to make their entrance.. And came crashing through the front door and straight into the kitchen only to be met by a pouting Johan.. “Aww, what’s wrong?,” Tina enquired, unleashing a hail of complaints from yours truly: “I had a really horrible day and people are stupid and I messed up and I forgot stuff and I had to make extra trips and now I gone shook up my comfort beer and spilled most of it in the sink,” I whimpered in the saddest, most undignified voice I could muster. “Aww,” she repeated, extending her arms and wrapping them around my neck, “need a hug?” – “Yes, please,” I said gratefully and hugged her back, only to have her giggle “I’m really sweaty, btw,” into my ear.. “Yeah, thanks, babe,” I replied squeezing her back, “me too, I think.”

Incidentally, the time at which you get a loving smile and a heartfelt hug from Tina is around the same time as you start having difficulties feeling upset about the state of the world and it’s determination to break you and bring you down.. When, at exactly the same time, a breaming Emelie presents you with the official feed back letter and grading of her Master’s thesis showing that she earned fucking top grades on her piece of work.. Well, then you just plain stop thinking about yourself and feeling upset all together.. And jump into another big hug with another sweaty girl! Coz, yeah, that’s the way I roll and when my girls deserve a hug, they get a hug, no matter what.. And, luckily, I have come to the conclusion that girls have an entirely different perception of being sweaty and disgusting than we guys do.. But, once again, I digress.. The points I was trying to make are that it is hard to be upset and stressed out when you have caring, awesome friends like mine, and that the night of your friend receiving top marks on her master’s thesis is not a night to be upset or sad, it’s a night to celebrate! With good food, good wine.. And Champagne! Because Emelie, being the awesome friend that she is, had bought a bottle of Veuve Clicquot to celebrate the milestone with her friends.

Having thusly cheered up considerably, I sent the girls off to shower while I got dinner ready and enjoyed what little was left of my beer.. Or what little was left of my beer that I could pry out of Tina’s greedy little hands 😉 Speaking of dinner, it’s kinda funny that even without knowing there’d be anything to celebrate, I’d decided to treat the girls to a little extra that evening, in the shape of my now (in)famous take on Heston Blumenthal’s Perfect Bolognese served with Rustichella pasta, home-made garlic bread and obscene amounts of genuine Parmesan cheese.. As I don’t have 12+ hours to spend cooking food every Friday evening, I had prepared the bolognese in advance and so all I had to do while the girls got ready was to grate some Parmesan, make garlic bread, heat the sauce, boil a large amount of water for the pasta and sip my beer.. Oh and help Tina pick out a wine to go with our little feast..  And then, once both girls had finished showering, set the table, add the pasta to the large amounts of boiling water, get them seated and then serve them the slightly improvised celebratory meal. Which was very much enjoyed by all, thank you very much!

Funny thing about seeing people eating Rustichella brand pasta for the first time is that until they encounter said brand they generally are of the perception that pasta is pasta.. Then, when you serve them the good stuff, you suddenly see them marveling at the taste and texture in sheer amazement at the difference that a few Euros a pound makes.. Usually, you’ll also see someone who takes the fascination to the extreme and starts to play with their food to see just how much sauce they can adhere to the pasta or other crazy endeavors along those lines. In this case, it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that TIna (bless her) was the one to pretty quickly pick up the role as the one playing with the food.. But that’s okay, I’d have been sorta weirded out if she hadn’t!

After dinner, we fell into our usual Friday mode of watching episode upon episode of the Big Bang Theory while zoning out on the couch. Only this time we did that while sharing a pretty nice bottle of sweet Veuve Clicquot. Not that anyone had planned to have sweet Champagne, but Emelie had misunderstood the admittedly somewhat confusing classification in the Champagne district where Sec (which would usually mean dry) means sweet and brut means dry.. She was a little bummed when she found out and I explained to her the ways of the Champagne world.. But what were we to do? Nothing but try to enjoy the mistake that had been made. So a sec it was.. But it wasn’t a half bad one at that, surprisingly enough, as I’m really not a fan of sweet wine.. All I can say is that it didn’t taste as sweet as I’d suspect a sweet wine to taste and that, well, fuck it, most Champagne is good Champagne in the company of beautiful women.

So the Champagne was very much enjoyed in a pretty alarming pace and it was right around this time where my day had gone from a living hell to quaffing Champagne with a couple of lovely young women that maybe things weren’t so bad after all and that maybe I couldn’t complain too much.. Because, really, how can you be sad when you’ve got friends like this? And how can a day that ends in sympathy, loving hugs, awesome dinner, good wine and Champagne with above-mentioned lovely young ladies possibly be a bad day? Just asking.. Oh girls, will you ever let me stay upset for more than a few hours at a time.. I hope not..

Dear artists of the world, PLEASE stop covering Cohen’s Hallelujah!

It’s not particularly often that I find myself randomly screaming at my computer monitor on a Sunday afternoon.. Granted, it happens more than I’d like to admit and more than most of you would probably believe.. But it doesn’t happen THAT often.. That having been said, yesterday was one of those rare days where I had a bit of a Tourette’s moment and let out a bit of steam.. The reason? Well, quite simple, really, I’d just been sitting there, thinking to myself “Man, if I hear one more cover of Leonard Cohen’s Hallelujah, I’m gonna scream” – when someone, my half-sister to be exact, posts a video on Facebook of some ten year old Danish girl mangling one of the most beautiful songs ever written.. Yeah, I get it, it was a try-out for “My Daughter’s Got Talent”, “X-Factor” or another one of those strange shows, she’s ten, she can sing, it’s adorable..Well, no, it’s not! She’s ten, she doesn’t know the words, her accent shines through and she manages to rob the song of most of the feeling it’s ever had.. Bah, humbug! And no, I don’t mean to sound like a bitter old man here, but Hallelujah is one of my favorite songs ever, and favorite songs shouldn’t be messed with whether you’re ten years old, a jolly green ogre, a Canadian or your name just happens to be Espen Lind (in fact, if your name is Espen Lind, you shouldn’t be doing any singing to begin with, but that’s another post!)

What’s worse is that when clicking the Youtube link, you immediately get presented with a swarm of other more or less equally hopeless covers of said song. Now granted, probably not everybody shares my views that cover songs are a thing that should generally be avoided.. But really.. Two hundred covers is a bit over the top, wouldn’t you say? Especially when 99% of them either don’t do the original any justice at all, or merely serve as a sub-par version of the original.. And all this covering leads to some pretty horrible misconceptions such as the notion that Hallelujah is a song written by Jeff Buckley (I nearly got in a bar fight over that one once, but that, too, is another post) or that it was a song popularized by the movie Shrek because the movie features the John Cale cover (and has the Rufus Wainwright version on the soundtrack, go figure) .. And that’s just pure nonsense.. And wrong!

So, for the sake of musical correctness, some rest for a sadly abused classic, a fair bit of peace and less screaming.. I suggest that all artists of the world, and aspiring artists, too, stop covering Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelujah” for the next foreseeable future.. Or, well, a few years at least.. Please? It’s a fruitless adventure anyways.. Look, here’s a video of Leonard Cohen at age 73 wiping the floor with all young young whippersnappers and your covers:

So, there..

Pain and the miracle of birth?

It’s been an interesting few days. There’s something about walking around with second degree burns on your hands that just seems to complicate life ever so slightly. Simple tasks such as cleaning or doing dishes become slightly more painful endeavors and even things such as sleeping become a pretty interesting ordeal. First off, let me say that things are getting a lot bitter now, my wounds are starting to heal and some itching and stinging aside, it’s all good.. Like a bad sunburn, nothing bad.

Sunday was interesting, though, the largest blisters, those on my right forearm, decided to pop around dinner time, leaving me with an exposed wound of about half an inch by half an inch and an inflamed area around two times the size of that around it.. Good times! It wasn’t really much of a hassle until bedtime where apparently the healing process was setting in and my entire forearm was a burning, itching hell. It rather complicated the process of falling asleep because I’d sorta drift off, roll over, land on my arm and then bolt right awake with a yelp and, on more than one occasion, a slur of obscenities directed at whatever deity above you chose to fancy. By around 3 AM, I uttered the ever popular words of “fuck this shit!” to myself and gave up on sleep in favor of just sitting back and watching some TV because it was the only activity that didn’t really involve moving my arm and I had recently discovered that things were fine as long as I didn’t move around too much.

Now, as you may know, I consider watching TV about the most mindnumbingly boring activity on earth, and I usually consider night time TV to be even more frightfully boring than its day time counterpart. And Sunday night was no exception.. But still, it’s less boring and traumatizing to the mind than spending several hours staring into blank air – mostly! As far as Monday morning 4 AM was concerned, I’m really not too certain.. Having first scanned across the channel, checking out the selection ranging from informercials over softcore pornography to Lady Gaga’s newest music video, I eventually settled for National Geographic Channel because I thought if I was forced to watch TV, I might as well try to learn something in the process.. And learn a bit, I did.. More specifically I spent two hours of my life learning about the development of the human fetus in the womb from the point of conception to the minute of birth which is about as frightfully exciting for someone like me, who is not a woman in the childbearing age, as watching flowers grow.. Wait, that’s not true, I actually do enjoy watching my chili plants grow from day to day.. So slightly less exciting than that.. Besides, it’s like 7th grade biology lessons over again in fast motion. The only new bit of knowledge I really took away from the experience is that while everybody knows that we humans share 98% of our DNA with chimpanzees, we apparently also share 33% of our genetical heritage with the common daffodil. Though I suppose this goes to explain why the majority of women I know have a nice, sweet floral smell to them.. But I digress, what I wanted to get to was that the majority of the program was pretty boring and non-stimulating in any way what-so-ever..

That is right up until the end where boredom and lack of stimuli in whatever form gave way to shock and sheer, utter horror.. Because, really, what 3 AM special on National Geographic Channel about the miracle of the female pregnancy is complete without a depiction of the miracle of childbirth in all it’s gory glory? And I apologize in advance to all the wonderful, beautiful women I may offend now: I’m sure childbirth is a wonderful, beautiful experience and that to many of you it has been the biggest moment in your life or, alternatively, will at some point be.. But fuck me, it’s just not very pretty to look at and rather unsettling to boot. Some two minutes into the thankfully short cut version of the ordeal, I found myself visually agitated, pointing at the midwife on screen, yelling “WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO THAT POOR WOMAN?!?” as she was actually encouraging the poor, crying, screaming woman to push something the size of a large football through a cavity which really did not look fit to accommodate objects of said size.. And what is up, National Graphic Channel? I thought we had a deal that full frontal nudity was a big no-no on publicly accessible television channels? No? Apparently this rule does not apply to close-ups of the beautiful moment that is the actual delivery of of the bloody, gooey, screaming infant?

A miracle of life? Surely! A beautiful moment? Arguably! Pretty to look at when you’ve no personal attachment to anybody involved? Most certainly not! Traumatizing? Hell yes! Look, I’m starting to understand why my father passed out when I was delivered.. And despite having nothing but respect and admiration for women, you lot just earned even more of my respect and admiration.. No way in hell would I willingly go through something like that.. Having seen what I just saw, I’ve concluded that you’re fucking crazy for doing it but it’s your craziness that keeps our species alive.. And it was about right after having made those conclusions that I decided that I’d had enough and shielded my eyes with my forearm to get away from the carnage.. And yes, that’s right, the wrong forearm of course, causing my to instead stare right into my own oozing wounds, forcing another loud declaration of “FUCK THIS SHIT!” and a snap decision that TV was overrated and that maybe just staring at the wall or, alternatively, the ceiling for the rest of the night wasn’t that bad of a thing to be doing after all..

Thanks for the memories, National Geographic Channel!

My only birthday wish: A new Macbook!

Well, things got a little crazy here at the Random Drunken Rants office this weekend.. Well, very crazy, really. Old friends showed up out of nowhere, drinks were had, people got drunk.. And somewhere along the way, it was made apparent that Macbook Pros and orange juice don’t mix all that well.

Long story short, as I have a long, important day ahead of me tomorrow, my laptop became the victim of a knocked over glass of OJ. And didn’t take too well to it. It’s still alive, barely, but the keyboard and internal speakers are dead, the battery is failing and the hard drive is starting to show signs of fatigue.. To make matters worse, I opted out of the total coverage insurance once I bought the damn thing to save some $600 or so.. Which means I’m now stuck with the repair costs or with buying myself a new laptop.. Smart, eh?

With the number of issues already and the fact that the inside of the aluminum unibody of the damn thing is probably smothered in OJ.. Well, that leaves only one viable option, really.. Buying myself a new Macbook AND total coverage insurance. A purchase that’s gonna take a nice, big bite of my savings and has left me spending most of today feeling rather pissed.. I mean, it’s not that I don’t want the brand spanking new Macbook Pro.. I really do, I was just really fucking happy to have saved up enough money to pay off most of my debt.. So meh!

Anyways, rest assured that there will be many more details and much more ranting and raving about this incident, I just don’t have the time right now. I’ve started doing OT at work to somehow make up for the huge expense I’ve just shoved upon myself, and I really have to get up early in the morning. I will say this, though, I have some awesome, compassionate and sweet friends, so thanks to Zascha, Tine and Tina for putting up with me today and trying to help me feel better.

And to Zascha and Tine in particular: I honestly apologize for being in such a shitty mood today. I know we haven’t seen each other in ages and it’s really not fair that I should be in such a shitty mood when we finally do hook up. I hope you understand, though, and I promise I’ll be a lot better next time around.

Well, my friends.. It’s been four years

It’s hard to believe, but we’re now on our FOURTH year of Random Drunken Rants!

April 16, 2006 is the day I started wondering what this whole blog business is all about and decided to try and set one up just for shits and giggles.. And since then it just sorta expanded and got bigger, better, stranger and decidedly outrageous. Some of you have been along for the ride all the way from the start and I truly compliment you for putting up with me for so long, you deserve a hug – or a pat on the bag – all according to preference. Others have tagged along at some point during the ride, some have gotten thrown off, some have come back.. But all of you are very appreciated!

It’s funny, I started out doing this thing for myself. Then for a few selected people. And now for a global audience (as well as for myself and the original few, still, of course). I’ve gone from three views a day to 1,200 views a day when things were really crazy. I’ve been featured on WordPress.com’s Top Posts and Growing Blogs lists and have been linked to by porn sites, indie artists and the United Nations alike.. All for just sharing my daily life, personal thoughts and strange fucking ideas.  I’m now back at a much more comfortable 30-50 views a day which is just as awesome to me because I know that most of these hits are from loyal readers with a genuine interest in my crazy ramblings. Whether these be best friends, good friends, acquaintances, friends from around the world or people that I plain don’t know but still somehow managed to draw in by my writings.. Did I mention you’re all very appreciated?

And that I thank you for taking an interest in me, my opinions, and my little life? Which I suppose I’ve been quite open about, so apologies are in order for anyone who have gotten offended or otherwise rubbed the wrong way in the process. It’s funny because over the last couple of years, there’s been this growing concern with online appearances, image, divulgence of information and expression of opinions on Facebook and other social media alike. You’re supposed to be very cautious about what you say, the opinions you express and the ways in which others perceive you. Me? I pretty much say what I want to, and write what I feel.. And as far as appearances go, I’ve always been more considered with the way I portray others than the way in which I portray myself.. Which may sound a little weird for someone who regularly refers to his best friend as somewhat (adorably) retarded and make more or less inappropriate comments about her ass and what not.. But that’s just how I roll, and believe you me, I would not make such comments if I wasn’t certain that Tina was okay with it and appreciates the humor and blatant stupidity in my ramblings.

I really can’t say if that’s a smart way of doing things, but what’s most important to me is that my rants here don’t serve to hurt anybody else, paint the wrong picture, or divulge too much information in one way or another. I’m much more happy making myself look like the idiot that I am than making others look like the idiots they’re not. Whether that’s smart or not, I guess, would have to be determined. But at least I’m not hurting anyone else with my rants. I’ve never really had a problem with portraying myself as a bit of an idiot because at times I am a bit of an idiot. It’s all in good fun and with a healthy dose of Danish self-irony. I’m only human, I do stupid shit.

So, to those who have taken offense along the way.. Whether it be because I make heavily opinionated statements about anarchists, refer to my best friend as “retarded”, or portray myself as a drunken idiot. Well, I’m sorry.. But I don’t really think that’s going to change. I’m gonna keep having my opinions, I love Tina to death, but I’m  gonna keep affectionately referring to her as an idiot.. And if this weekend is to be any indication, well, I’m gonna continue to do stupid drunk shit and tell the world about it. If that offends you and makes you think of me as a bad person, then so be it.. I can’t really change that.. But I probably would think you a bit narrow-minded in return. Chances are if you chalk me off as offensive, a drunk or irresponsible, you’ve only really dropped by and read a single post about me doing something decidedly drunken and dumb.. You’ve probably not even bothered to read other posts about me saving lives, being thoughtful or doing sweet shit.

To those of you who are not too horribly offended and follow my rants on a regular basis. Again, I thank you, thank you for a good four years and here’s to yet another!

I’ll leave you with a few random stats about the site:

In for years:

– I’ve posted 916 posts

– You, in return, have posted a total of 709 comments – keep them coming, I love those!

– In April, 2006, the average number of daily visitors was 6, this has risen to 21 in April of this year. Which is a bit of a fallback from June 2008 when the average was 321, possibly owing to a certain world tour by a little known act called Metallica.

– In total, 84,736 people have dropped by this site. None of these visits have happened today, but 1,291 happened on June 1, 2008.

– The most popular search term on the blog, other than “Metallica”, is “thong”

Jamie’s Food Revolution

For a long time now, I’ve been a fan of a little thing called TED. TED is pretty hard to explain but it’s basically a non-profit organization devoted to Ideas Worth Spreading. This is done through annual conferences, a websites with recordings of various talks and many other measures. Their website offers a plethora of media and information to sift through for anyone who feels like it, and I highly recommend going through their archives or subscribing to their various feeds. You’re pretty much bound to find something that will surprise, awe or inspire you.. As has been the case for me so many times before.

A couple of months ago now, I stumbled upon this clip below featuring Jamie Oliver, and more so than most other TED speeches I’ve seen so far, it pretty much blew me away. I’m a foodie you know so anything with a celebrity chef is pretty much gonna appeal to me.. But that being said, Jamie’s message, spirit, humor and heart-felt concern for the upcoming generation really got to me.

Long story short, like many other of us, Jamie Oliver has become pretty shocked with the state of our modern day eating habits, especially in relation to children and the way in which they’re now in many cases being brought up to know very little, if anything, about food and nutrition, and are led to believe that junk food, ready to eat meals and prepared foods are perfectly reasonable parts of an every day diet. But unlike so many of us, Jamie has actually decided to step up, raise his voice and say “umm? Hello! This is wrong, we can change this!”

In the clip above, Jamie uses a blend of humor and honesty to show the rather shocked onlookers the real severity of the problem and the sad, sad state of the food culture in many American families. He then proposes and launches a campaign to change the way in which American families think about food in order to ultimately provide better meals and a better future for American kids.

The campaign has since spread widely across America and the world as well and it’s really an inspiration to see all the hard work going into it and the sheer number of both layman and celebrity supporters signing up every day.

It takes no uncertain amount of balls to stand up to the fast food nation and tell them that they’re in the wrong. I’m sure Jamie is taking a shit-ton of flak for what he’s doing, but I for one applaud him.

It’s somewhat of a sad testament to the state of our society when obesity is becoming a major problem, and a major killer. What’s even sadder is that a whole new generation is being brought up to think that this is the norm.. This is a problem not only in America, but in many other nations around the world. And it’s about time someone with credibility, mass appeal and power had the guts to stand up and say “Guys? WTF?” – I’m sure Jamie’s putting his good rep in large parts of the US at stake for this, but for him it’s obviously worth it. And that’s not only admirable, for some it might even be life-changing or life-saving.

As a hobby cook I know for a fact that cooking someone a good, wholesome, healthy meal isn’t that much more time-consuming, harder, let alone necessarily more expensive than ordering takeout or throwing various highly processed foods together.. And, quite honestly, while I’m not a parent myself, I think we owe it to the next generation to teach them to chose the wholesome, healthy version over processed foods or other junk..

So well done, Mr. Oliver! Thanks for opening a lot of eyes around the globe and know that for every piece of criticism you encounter along your way, you’ve at least another hundred people rooting for you. You’ve inspired hundreds of thousands of people in the US and millions around the world to actually have an opinion and care about what they feed their kids and for that I applaud you.. Good luck on your quest!

If you want to follow Jamie’s Food Revolution or sign his petition, you can find more info HERE!

(Thanks to Jessica for providing the link and, thus, reminding me to finish this post)