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Food writers, what the fuck did you think would happen?

Kim Severson wrote a today that discusses the plight of food writers -- specifically how fucking fat they've gotten over the years from gorging their gullets on countless free meals.

I mean, who woulda thunk it? How could this one food blogger mentioned in the article ever have guessed that constant face-feeding would lead to his health problems. I mean, you'd never guess trouble was on the horizon, even when Severson describes the Batali-esque writer in the following way:

"He weighed more than 400 pounds, his blood pressure was dangerously high and his blood was thick with glucose and cholesterol."

Interesting. All the medical problems must have hit him out of nowhere like a ton of banana cream pies.

If it sounds like I'm being unreasonable, that's because I am. I hate those fucking food writers, including critics like Frank Bruni who wouldn't know a sateuse from a satoir. Yet their words carry such weight.

Ha! Weight. Get it! Their words carry too much weight -- because they're fat.

Look at me. I'm around food 24/7. Whether I'm filming a show, testing recipes for a new book or cooking on the line in one of my Michelin-starred restaurants, I'm always in proximity to the best fucking food. But the difference between me and the food writers is that I don't look at it like an all-you-can-eat Atlantic City buffet....