Looks like our newest "low carb guru" got to walk the gangplank recently, which is even worse than being voted off the island. I'll admit, I have never had my stateroom trashed and all my electronics confiscated, but I wonder what is worse, having to leave your fans at the dock, or being labeled by the media as "low carb"? Kiss of death either way, or is it?
I haven't heard too much about Krusegate from the low carbers, probably because they were on a wonderful cruise together, but I wonder why I haven't heard from many of the paleo luminaries about the type of behavior that has been going on for quite awhile. I have heard it from Robb Wolf, and rumors that it was discussed at paleof(x), but I find it interesting that you can go all over the paleoweb and hear people trash Kruse, but you have to buy a whole set of expensive DVD's to hear some luminaries say, "Hey, this isn't right!"
I'll leave y'all with a little personal story. Recently I started taking an exercise class at a local community center. Then I found out there was a little knitting group that met near the same time. Soon I started going to all of this Tuesday knitting session and I eventually ditched the exercise class (hip hip hooray for all that movnatty stuff anyway..)
We started having a fine ole' time in the knitting group, talking about all sorts of crafts, and lots about nutrition, and cause I am just a fine darn knitter, the ladies told me about a couple of other groups that meet on other days. Sounds fine, right?, so I decided to go to the other meetings and start knitting for charity.
The Wednesday group was fine after a couple of awkward first moments. When they asked about my skill level I said I could knit pretty much anything. They were skeptical, but put a bunch of yarn and needles in front of me and after a couple of weeks, that was all ironed out. They realized that yes, I could knit anything, and people started coming to the class specifically to take advantage of my free expertise.
The Monday group was not fine. I had even been warned about this group by some of the other ladies and members of the local community. When I sat down, one of the ladies told me I was sitting in someone else's seat and I needed to move. 'Course, that someone else wasn't there, and never did show up, and I am thinking that if they wanted a reserved seat they should buy a ticket online in advance. Oh well, anyway, I moved down at the end of the table, and they told me that now I was sitting in someone else's seat.
This went on for a couple of weeks, with the ladies alternating between telling me to move and telling me, "oh, it really shouldn't be like this," but none of them were willing to stand up to the lady I call the "Alpha Bitch". Not as a reference to her behavior, but more a reference to the dog-pack that she rules.
There was a change the third week. I got there early, and sat next to the only other person there, but it turns out I was sitting in Alpha Bitch's seat. (Forgive me if I hadn't memorized all the seat positions yet.) This caused quite a ruckus when Alpha Bitch strolled in later, as she proceeded to make fun of me right in front of me for the next three hours. One lady even told me I had my stuff spread out too far. As I examined my workspace and pulled out my tape measure to measure the amount of space, she quickly grabbed her ball of yarn as she realized she was taking more space than I. And I am thinking, wow! what is this, high school? No, they just a bunch of old ladies.
Finally, something interesting happened. Another lady, I'll call her Irene (cause, you know, they are all called Irene or Vera or Ann or Doreen at this age) asked me if I wanted to join her table to play Querko. I accepted the invitation. During the next few weeks, I quit trying to sit on Alpha Bitch's table, and joined Irene on our own table where we organized yarn or played games. As most of the other ladies filed in and took their assigned seats, they all said hello to each other but would refuse to say hello or talk to me. I noticed that some of the other ladies would talk to me only when Alpha Bitch left for the day. They would also invite me to the BIG TABLE at that time, though I politely declined.
Now Irene, she's an interesting lady, always inviting me into her circle of friends, saying encouraging words. Seems like she had been in the same situation earlier, until the rec center gave her the key to the yarn cabinet. See, in addition to organizing and doling out the yarn, this table is for the ladies to drop off any yarn donations and finished projects. It's a big table. But wouldn't you know that, no matter where I sat on that table, the other ladies would come over and dump their stuff right on top of mine. Just like dogs peeing all over their territory. Not satisfied with kicking me off the kool kids table, that made sure to claim the second space too. And Irene just smiles and rolls her eyes, and clears off another part of the table for me.
So, the question to the people in Paleoland is, do you want to be an Irene, or do you want to be an Alpha Bitch? Do you really want to be like the Monday group? We're watching and waiting for your answer. Oh, and the FBI is watching, and the CIA, and CNN, and B B King, and Doris Day. Can you dig it?