The Breatharian

I’ve been very good in the past about not calling out individuals by name. Especially when it comes to my rants about morons. I at least try to stick to a group of people and just use the name of the group (we all remember my flat-earth rant). My other half and I have a fake Instagram account that we use to make fun of basic bitches doing all the stereotypical basic bitch things, to the point of us creating our own basic bitch moments and hashtags. We don’t post often and we think it’s hilarious.

One lovely afternoon, as we lounged around on our couch, we came across the Instagram account of a young woman claiming to be a breatharian. This is where I’m going to lose a lot of patience and start my rant and call out an individual by name. Please forgive any typos or run-ons in my tirade.

AUDRA BEAR. This, person, is the idiot who runs the village entirely filled by village idiots. Many of you can come back and tell me that if they are all idiots, then none of them are idiots. Keep your logical “if, then” trash to yourself, you’ll agree with me by the end of this.

Again, AUDRA BEAR IS AN IDIOT.

Let’s start with what being a breatharian is all about.

A breatharian is a person who has no common sense and has lost all ability to think clearly due to a lack of nutrition. No, that’s not right…

A breatharian is defined as an individual who has no idea what it means to be a healthy human being and is dumb enough to think their ideology is the only way to… No, that’s not it either…

A breatharian thinks it’s possible to reach a level of consciousness where one can obtain all sustenance from the air or sunlight. Damn it, that’s not it either…

Wait… actually that IS the definition. Turns out I was right on all 3 counts.

These people are under the impression that they don’t need to eat. Or drink. Like, at all. Just breathe. And be in the sun. THAT’S IT. Oh! These people also think it’s super healthy to live that way. For a very long extended period of time. And by that, I mean several days, until they die. Which is exactly what has happened to EVERY ONE that has tried to live by breatharian lifestyle.

By now, many of you may have looked up Audra Bear, the heroine of our story. She seems to be alive and “well” and living her best life, despite being a breatharian and living a pranic lifestyle for several years. This is because she is NOT a true breatharian, which is unfortunate because I’d be okay if the lifeguard of natural selection kicked her ass out of the public domain that is the human gene pool.

Audra Bear has many posts, videos, pictures, and stories claiming she is a steadfast breatharian. She has actually claimed, recently, that she has fasted for 97 days on nothing but the sun and breathing techniques.

She’s also a dumbass who goes on to claim that she does her breathing techniques and takes in sunlight while sustaining nutrition through juices and smoothies. What? I’m sorry, I thought I was writing about a breatharian. My bad, turns out she’s a liar who doesn’t know what being a breatharian actually is.

Now, I don’t care if you want to be a breatharian and do whatever fasts and breathing techniques and sun-soaking that make you feel better about yourself. But if you’re going to do it, then fucking do it. Don’t say you’re going to do it and then do some sneaky shit to make it sound good.

So now we have a breatharian who also juices and makes #liquidarian posts.

After a little more digging, meaning more hours of making fun of idiots on Instagram, my lovely partner and I discover that she is also a vegan. That’s right, folks. A breatharian, who only takes in juices and smoothies. And plants and shit.

Okay, why not dig a little more, right? We now have a breatharian-liquidarian-vegan, who only takes in sunlight and air. Today, I found a picture of her drinking Starbucks, at a Starbucks. It wasn’t a juice. Or a smoothie. Or a plant. Or air. She was outside though, so I guess she gets points for the sun part of it. But you see where I’m going with this.

This is my favorite part of the story. In the midst of our sleuthing, we discovered a post where our main character dissected her name. Mind you, this was on the internet for the whole world to see. Let me draw this out the best I can.

AUDRA BEAR

AU=Gold

RA=Sun (cuz of the Egyptians and whatnot)

BEAR-Bearer

Audra Bear is a golden light-bearer.

She wrote all of that on her account. I did NOT make any of that up.

I know, I know. You guys are super smart and probably noticed that nothing was put in for the letter “D.” I noticed that as well. Maybe she forgot it was there. Maybe her lack of nutrition has gotten the better of her and she’s gone loopy. Maybe it’s a silent “D” and it stands for “DUMBFUCKERY.” I’ll let you decide, I’ve already made my decision.

My laptop battery is dying, and I’m struggling to keep all of this rant flowing in a semi-organized structure, so I’m going to put a pin in it for tonight.

Hopefully all of you are on my side on this. It isn’t often that I’m going to call out someone specifically for doing dumb stuff, but this had to happen. I mean, living off air and sunlight alone? Even the guy who founded the whole breatharian ideology said it’s a healthy way to live, IF YOU DO IT RIGHT WITH PROPER FASTING WHILE SUSTAINING THE NUTRITION YOUR BODY NEEDS. Seriously, if that dude said it then get your head out of your ass and stop doing moronic things for likes. Take your anorexic ass home. Get out of the sun, eat a pizza, and read a book. Get off the internet.

I’m all about living a clean and healthy lifestyle. I promote it and want everyone to live their best lives. That doesn’t mean starve your body of everything until your head goes crazy and then get on one of the biggest social media outlets in the world and influence others to live the way you do. all you will die. And to be honest, we will read the article, or maybe only the headline, and shake our heads at your brief, but fatal, insanity.

I’m going to go make a smoothie.

Stay classy, and I’ll see you at the next stop.

The Tourists

Traveling for work means dealing with tourists on the road. Sooooo many tourists. Young and old, every time of day or night, every day of the week. It’s as if no one goes to school, has a job, a life. Or everyone I come across is super rich and has no need for any of that.

I end up traveling down a lot of 2-lane roads when I drive. Lots of curves, no room to pass, low speed limits, and tourists. There is no frustration greater than being stuck behind a tourist going 5 or 10 miles under the speed limit when you can’t pass them. The reason they drive so slow seems to be so they can look out every window except the windshield to take in the scenery, completely unaware of anyone around them. Or they don’t care.

This is something that happens several times a day. This is something that happens regardless of location. This is something that happens no matter what time it is. This is something that happens even if I beg God to run either me or the tourists off the road.

These same tourists don’t appear to have ever eaten in any restaurant anywhere, ever. They don’t understand pictures, lines, how to order food, how to be polite to those in front of or behind them, or that they are the only ones who are not under a time-constraint.

My favorite tourists are the ones who stop in doorways to chat to the other tourists whether they know them or not. These same tourists also don’t know how to park, but I don’t have to patience to get into that right this second.

I love traveling and looking at the scenery of new places I’ve never explored. I do the speed limit, or more, I use the mirrors in the vehicle, I pull over safely to allow others to pass me so I can stop and look around. I order quickly when in a line and I don’t stand in doorways to talk about the fucking roadrunner I saw run across the road last week. We get it. It was a roadrunner. It ran. It ran across the road. Get out of my way, Dr. Seuss, I have things to do.

If you’re reading this and you are not a tourist, I’m sure you know exactly what I’m talking about. If you’re reading this and you ARE a tourist, I absolutely mean no disrespect. But that means you should be respectful as well. Be mindful of those around you on the road, in restaurants, in doorways, and in parking lots instead of parking so close to my vehicle that you don’t know how to get out of your car so you stare at me until I move because you screwed up and don’t understand how to back up and park again without taking 20 minutes to get the car in gear.

Stay classy, and I’ll see you at the next stop.

The Production Line

Being on the road as much as I am, I eat out for 99% of my meals. Because of some of the remote locations I go to, this means McDonald’s. A lot. I understand that dining at such a fine establishment does not bring with it the highest of expectations. However, I have a few issues.

Issue #1:

I showed up to a McDonald’s and ordered a McChicken sandwich, with pickles. I also ordered a Hamburger. Both of these items are on the Dollar Menu and, again, I should not have expected the fanciest of cuisine.

I unwrapped my McChicken. A pickle had fallen out, no big deal, down the hatch.

I unwrapped my Hamburger. I realize that ordering such an item from McDonald’s, off the Dollar Menu no less, shouldn’t get my hopes up. I don’t know about you, but when I think of a hamburger, even the most basic of hamburgers, I imagine the bun, some lettuce, tomato, some kind of condiment, onions, and the patty. Most places seem to use mustard as the condiment, so when I ordered, I asked them to sub mayo instead of mustard and made sure they put pickles on it.

Behold, my “Hamburger.” The pickles were ON TOP OF THE BUN. All of the lettuce was in the wrapper, none of it on the burger. The patty was in the bun, held in place by an obscenely large amount of mayo. By obscenely large, I mean enough for the patty and myself to go swimming in. It was spilling over the sides of the bun. It covered the pickles and turned it all into a disgusting, congealed mass of green and white. There were a few finely minced onions on the patty, the rest were in the mayo orgy. The top bun, the one with the pickles on it, was completely off the patty. No tomatoes or lettuce. The burger consisted of a patty, pickles, and onions.

I was aware that for so cheap of a price I would be able to participate in the building of my own burger. Especially since they refused to remake it for me.

Issue #2:

I know McDonald’s employees probably don’t get paid much, don’t have many incentives, and are only there for an easy paycheck. Hence the quality craftsmanship of my aforementioned meal. I have never seen worse attitudes from managers and employees than I have at McDonald’s. Every McDonald’s I’ve been to, not just the one.

If I bring back something and kindly ask for it to be remade or to just have my money back because it looked like the Hulk had an anger issue with my burger during an earthquake, then I don’t need to hear that you don’t see anything wrong with it. Or that you can’t remake it. Or that you can’t refund my money.

I understand that I’m sacrificing quality for price at such an establishment, but come on. At least be nice about it. And don’t laugh about it when I turn my back to leave the counter. Go reprimand the line cook. Anything.

Issue #3:

After such an experience, and on a hot day, I figured I’d treat myself to a shake or an ice cream cone or something of that nature. Remember, McDonald’s was the only place in town, I couldn’t go somewhere else for a tasty treat.

I ordered my ice cream cone. But guess what, and I know all of you know what I was told. Everyone together now: OUR ICE CREAM MACHINE IS DOWN.

Of course it is. I can’t remember a single McDonald’s anywhere that I’ve been to in the last 4 years that could serve ice cream because the machine was down. All of you have experienced this. It doesn’t matter which location you go to or what time of day or night you go, the machine is down.

After some research, I discovered that this is because the ice cream machine they use puts itself through a rigorous self-cleaning operation that takes several hours. Completely understandable. So get 2 and alternate them. Or set the time that it cleans itself every day and put hours up that ice cream is not available. Are you telling me the multi-billion dollar company can’t afford to figure this out? Hire me. I’ll clean the damned machines myself if I can get some ice cream once a year. I bet I can do it faster.

These issues make me dread going to any McDonald’s. But when you’re starving and it’s the only place for a hundred miles, what are you going to do? Get your shit together, Ronald McDonald. Your Golden Arches are fool’s gold and no one is loving it.

Stay classy, and I’ll see you at the next stop.