Potential Dangers of Genetic Engineering—A Case Study

To see an example of disastrous consequences arising out of genetic manipulation on animals, one need look no further than the recent experience of noted medical researcher Dr. Peter Gallanis. Gallanis, a Max Plank Research Fellow and Professor of Genetics at Duke University Medical Center in Durham, NC, has since the 1970s conducted extensive research on telomeres, tiny strands of DNA-protein attached to linear chromosomes in the body that allow replication without loss. Since telomeres shorten each time a cell divides, and continuously erode as an animal ages, many scientists believe they hold the key to aging.

By the mid-1980s Gallanis' research had isolated the genetic factors controlling cell division and telomere length, and he began the process of creating telomerase gene sequences that could maintain telomere length despite cell division—thus indirectly interrupting the aging process. Gallanis' initial work with fruit flies was encouraging, and he quickly began full-scale experimentation implanting his genetically altered material into mice. Again, the results were remarkable. In 1992 Gallanis published a landmark paper in the British research journal Nature chronicling his team's success in predictably extending the normal 2-year life span of mice to 5 years and more.

Anxious to apply his research to longer-lived organisms, Gallanis in 1990 began his highly-publicized experiments with porpoises. Using a grant from the National Institutes of Health, he retrofitted an old student swimming pool on the Duke campus and solicited donations of older animals from public aquariums up and down the East Coast. After some initial setbacks, Gallanis soon found that his subjects benefited greatly from the organ transplant drug cyclosporin. His staff would administer the drug to the porpoises in a paste made from the meat of a seagull native to the North Carolina coast. Soon, the combination of weekly injections of genetically altered DNA and daily cyclosporin treatment created a group of animals that displayed the genetic characteristics of a much younger population, with no measurable shortening of telomere length upon cell division. As early as 1997 word was circulating in scientific circles that Dr. Gallanis and his team had succeeded in creating a genetically-modified race of porpoises with potentially indefinite life spans. By all known scientific tests, their aging process had stopped completely.

It should go without saying that throughout the 1990s the pressures on Dr. Gallanis and his team to maintain their experiments on porpoises and proceed to a publishable result were enormous. With the commercialization of his work potentially worth billions of dollars, Gallanis found it increasingly necessary to avoid contact with colleagues and the press. He adopted a routine of taking his Land Rover to the Carolina coast almost weekly. An avid hunter, he would personally shoot the seagulls to be used in his cyclosporin treatments.

It was during one such hunting trip in September 1999 that disaster struck. Floyd, a massive Category 4 hurricane was making its way up the eastern seaboard and forcing the evacuation of barrier islands from Florida to New England. On the evening of September 15, 1999 Dr. Gallanis loaded three ice chests filled with seagulls into the back of his Land Rover and headed inland. The winds were already peaking at 50 miles per hour, and rain was lashing the roads.

Hurricane Floyd was to have another victim that day. A truck from a statuary business in Beaufort, South Carolina was passing through eastern North Carolina, bound for Washington, DC. Strapped to its flat bed were two small lions, carved in slate, that had been commissioned for the entrance of a new Senate office building annex that was under construction near the US Capitol. The truck was driving into a particularly bad curve on the Highway 1 Bypass near Wilmington when a combination of wind and treacherous road conditions forced its driver to swerve wildly. In the process the two sculptures were thrown from the truck, directly into the oncoming lane of traffic.

It was at that precise moment that Dr. Gallanis rounded the curve in the other direction. He saw the sculptures in the road, but there was no time to stop. Fortunately, thanks to quick reflexes and the high ground clearance of his Land Rover, he was able to successfully straddle the sculptures with no harm to his vehicle.

Dr. Gallanis was just breathing a sigh of relief at his good fortune when he saw the lights of a police car behind him. He pulled off the road and was immediately arrested for transporting gulls across slate lions for immortal porpoises.

“GE”—Bringing Bad things to Life?

Is it just my imagination, or is the entire world going nuts (not to mention corn, tomatoes, and soybeans) over the issue of genetically engineered foods? I swear there has been more written and said about this issue the past few months than any other health or environmental issue I can remember—ever. The media overkill is positively sickening. That's why I couldn't resist writing this!

By genetically engineered ("GE") foods I am talking, of course, about plants (we'll leave animals for another day) that have had their genetic structure modified, usually through the introduction of foreign genetic material. That genetic material doesn't necessarily have to come from other plants. It may come from animals, bacteria, or even viruses. Indeed, GE foods became a big issue for vegetarians a number of years ago when some Bozo got the bright idea of transplanting an "antifreeze" gene from a flounder into a tomato. Suddenly, the traditional tests we vegetarians use to assess what's appropriate to eat (Does it have a face? Does it run away?) seemed woefully inadequate.

GE foods have been getting wide attention from a lot of non-vegetarians too, because of the antics of a "life sciences" company by the name of Monsanto. It may as well be named "Hitler Industries" for all the infamy it's getting. Not only have the Monsanto folks used genetic engineering to create new crops that are immune to their own herbicide (so farmers will buy both seeds and herbicides from Monsanto), but they've created seeds that produce sterile crops (so farmers have to buy more seeds from Monsanto every single year, instead of being able to grow their own). Do these Monsanto guys have a public relations department? Are they all out to lunch?

The Claimed Problems and Benefits

If you read about the dangers of GE foods you may decide this is a good time to go on that therapeutic fast. Scientists are making credible arguments that these previously unknown biological creations may cause enormous, unexpected problems for the humans and farm animals who eat them, and that they have the potential to create superweeds, and even superviruses. Equally good arguments can be made that GE plants will foster increased use of toxic chemicals by farmers (since their crop plants will now be immune to such large doses) and will hasten insect resistance to pesticides (since pesticides engineered into plants can be many times stronger than those sprayed on.)

Arguments as to the benefits of GE plants aren't too shabby either. Promoters, including many environmentalists, cite the ability of GE crops to substantially reduce the land utilized in farming, increase wildlife habitat, reduce pesticide use, reduce the need for additives to preserve foods, and improve taste and nutritional values.

This is probably is not a circumstance where the truth lies somewhere between the opposing viewpoints. Rather, it is probably the case that, depending on the situation, both camps are right.

The Facts

Whatever you think about the problems vs. the benefits of GE foods, there are some immutable facts. First, genetic engineering is possible and it is effective—therefore it will continue to be developed and used. Humans have insatiable appetites for knowledge, and a GE lab can be up and running for $20,000. All the governments of all the countries of the world couldn't stop genetic engineering now, even if they tried. The proverbial cat is already out of the proverbial bag.

Second, you are already eating GE foods, and they will be even harder to avoid as time goes on. As just one example, by next year most of the US soybean crop will be genetically engineered, and this percentage will increase. (I've seen predictions that Monsanto licensees will own as much as 100% of the market within the next few years. I don't believe this though. Monsanto isn't very good with percentages. It's corporate website claimed that "over 100%" responded positively to a survey. That's a lot of people!) Over 80% of processed foods already contain GE ingredients, and even rennet for "vegetarian" cheese is being made with gene-splicing techniques.

Some Suggestions

Genetic engineering is with us to stay, and will almost certainly have a profound effect (good or bad) on life on this planet over the next generation. We can't stop this, but there are some things we can do to make the future a little less scary:

1. Promote Vegetarianism—Vegetarianism can significantly reduce the strain on our agricultural resources and the perceived need for genetically engineered products. With vegetarianism everyone wins.

2. End the patenting of life—The ability to patent plants and animals (and thereby gain a 20-year, government-sanctioned monopoly) is the biggest economic engine for biotechnology. Nothing else does as much to promote profit over the public good. Unfortunately, these patents have been granted for several years now. Considering the economic interests at stake here, this cat is probably out of the bag as well.

3. Test (?)—Many GE foods are allowed on the market with virtually no testing. As shocking as this is, I, as a vegetarian, don't want to promote the use of guinea pigs (or any other animals!) as "guinea pigs" for these foods. (The whole field of biotechnology presents unprecedented opportunities for animal exploitation.) Indeed, there is considerable doubt that animal models are sensitive enough to reveal small differences between modified and unmodified foods. Instead, what we need is good science, and the development of new ways to assure the safety of our actions.

4. Label—Although 78% of Americans surveyed want labels on foods to tell us if they contain genetically engineered ingredients, these labels are not now required. Our government should make GE foods withstand the test of the informed consumer. Furthermore, GE foods should be specifically excluded from the definition of "organic" in the upcoming National Organic Standards. We have a right to choose what we eat and, contrary to the paternalistic attitude of agribusiness, we are smart enough to make this decision on our own, thank you.

Too bad we aren't smart enough to put the cat back in the bag.

A Word About Cats

When I got married I inherited four cats. That's right, four cats. Count 'em. Now, I like cats as much or more than the average person does. I grew up with a cat, and he was one of my best pals as a kid. But that was one cat. One cat will pay attention to you, and isn't that much trouble. If you have more than one, they prefer to spend their time with each other, and of course the amount of "cat upkeep" increases exponentially. Did I mention that we have four?

The relationship between cats and human beings is ambivalent to say the least. At our best we love them as pets, buy them expensive food in little cans, and even freeze dry them when they die so we can keep them around. At our worst we curse their shedding, let them live overpopulated and homeless on the streets of our cities, and worse. But more about that later.

Perhaps one reason for the love/ hate relationship we have with cats is that they are smart enough that we can attribute all kinds of human characteristics to them, but inevitably, since they're cats, they always let us down. A few months ago I was unpacking a new electronic gadget in the living room. All the cats got very excited and gathered around to watch.

"It's got dual power supplies and discrete circuitry," I told them, taking the gadget out of the box and holding it up. They really didn't care about that, of course. What did fascinate them was the plastic wrapping and the box half filled with Styrofoam peanuts.

Oh, cats. They have such strange taste. Every time our cats bring some poor bird home in their mouths I'm reminded that these are vicious carnivores. Back to the wild, I think. How can we humans ever expect to get along with heathens who prefer catnip to watercress, cottage cheese to truffles?

"Care for a glass of Bordeaux?" you ask. "Perhaps a '61 Chateau Haut Brion?"

"Not interested," replies the cat. "But if you don't mind, I would like to bat the cork around the kitchen floor."

I suppose one reason cats were originally domesticated was precisely because they don't enjoy the same foods humans do. That way they could be trusted to protect the stores of grain from rodents. We've come a long way since then. Cats still have an economic value to humans, but in a much more grisly way—as laboratory animals for medical experimentation.

They do a lot of brain research on cats, and the mere thought of it sends shivers down my spine. Cats being who they are, it also makes me doubt the wisdom of the researchers. I mean, just how much can they expect to learn from studying the brains of animals who think it's fun to chew on houseplants and then systematically throw up on the carpet in five different rooms?

The other day I was at home working for several hours. For my own sanity I tried to ignore the cats, who were busy playing a game I didn't understand, but which seemed to involve chasing one another several times across every piece of furniture we own.

Late that evening I was very grateful when the house finally quieted down. That was when our little cat Henry jumped up on my lap and nuzzled against my hand. As he curled up in a contented ball I was reminded that, despite our obvious differences, we have a lot in common. Along with all the other animals of the earth, we share an innate need for physical and emotional comfort, freedom, dignity and peace.

Looking down at the furry body, now lost in sleep, the areas of antagonism between cats and humans—be they as trivial as shedding on the furniture, or as significant as death in a medical laboratory—seemed gratefully far away. Yeah, cats are pretty terrific, I thought. I could only hope little Henry might feel the same way about humans.

The holiday season is approaching, and with the help of a sleeping little cat in my lap I am renewed in the hope that someday the lion really will lie down with the lamb, and the peace so many of us have hoped for between our own species and the others on this earth will finally be realized.

Won’t Anyone Consider Vegetarianism?

Omelets, glasses of water…

and Uncle Charlie smells like a cow—

At last count, and this was several years ago, there were about 1.2 billion cows in the world. (There are probably even more now, although I suppose for the most part they are different cows.) Now, it seems that each of these animals, by belching and by various other means, which we cannot mention here, emits about 14 cubic feet of methane gas each day. This makes cows a major source of air pollution, and a large contributor to the "greenhouse effect."

At the U.S. government's agricultural research facility in Beltsville, MD they put cows in Plexiglass cages and study the amount of methane that is produced. The idea is to alter the cow's diet and other conditions to come up with a "clean cow" that won't pollute so much. This would, of course, make barns smell a whole lot better, and would make many farmers very happy. I'm sure it's a terrific use of our tax dollars. Still, I wonder if they've thought about vegetarianism?

For years scientists have been working on ways to preserve milk so it can endure long periods without refrigeration on your cupboard shelf and still be drinkable. More recently, they've developed ways to raise chickens to produce eggs with less cholesterol. These are exciting ideas and make dairy farmers and omelet lovers very happy. But do you think they've considered vegetarianism?

In Zimbabwe they have a problem with preserving wildlife. As is the case in so many other countries, raising cattle is a status symbol there. As the population gets wealthier and more westernized, the expanding cattle ranches displace wildlife habitat. The government has come up with a program to charge hunters big bucks (that's the money kind of bucks) for every lion or elephant they shoot, and to funnel these funds back to the local villages. This gives the rural population an incentive to preserve habitats and make sure game is there for the rich tourists to hunt. Pretty clever idea, huh?—hunt the game you're trying to save. But wouldn't it have been better just to promote vegetarianism?

In California for the last couple of years there has been a water shortage. The problem was so bad last summer that restaurants in Los Angeles could be fined if they served a glass of water to a customer without it being requested. Of course, it took 2500 gallons of water to produce the steak that same customer would eat. Did anyone consider vegetarianism?

It seems that so many of the world's troubles— from depletion of rainforests, to drift nets killing our oceans, to your Uncle Charlie's evening flatulence— could be solved by humans simply giving up eating animals. Instead, though, people prefer to labor for years to find politically acceptable compromises or miracle scientific "cures" for these problems. And of course no one gives vegetarianism a thought.

To ask that people give up their ham sandwiches would require too much of a sacrifice, I suppose. Our meat eating society would rather live with dirtier air and water, faster global warming, massive climatic changes from loss of the earth's vegetation, extinction of species, soil erosion, more heart disease, more cancer, higher food prices, etc., etc. Not to mention ugly golden arches and pictures of Colonel Sanders on every corner.

Getting back to our consideration of cows and their gas, though, I may have a solution to this methane problem. I once knew an agricultural engineer who told me food could be recycled four times through a cow. The trick, he said, is to mix in a little molasses each time. (Apparently a cow will eat anything if it's covered with molasses.) I figure digestion of food four times— actually four cycles times four stomachs equals sixteen times— will help this mess. If it doesn't, I haven't a clue. Unless, of course, someone wants to consider vegetarianism.

Reflections on an Un-Turkey Thanksgiving

When I was a child, Thanksgiving was turkey day. By the time we got to my grandparents' house in the early afternoon, the smell of the roasting bird reached clear out to the car. I'd run into the house, excited, and open the oven door to see it. Despite the fact that it looked done to me, it would always take what seemed like an eternity to get everything ready to eat. My job was mashing the potatoes that would serve as the receptacle for turkey gravy. It was a simple procedure, but one entirely dependent on adding just the right amount of milk. A more complex task, left to my father and grandfather, was dissection of the great bird. I was convinced that it was a job that required not only my constant supervision, but also my occasional nibbling fingers to remove small pieces that fell by the wayside and would otherwise go to waste. When we were finally ready to eat, there would be the yearly battle between my great-grandmother and me over the parts of the turkey we liked best. She always let me win.

After the main course, I have memories of multiple pieces of pie with whipped cream and card playing on the big round table—once it was cleared. Then, later that night, and for some days thereafter, there would be turkey sandwiches, always on white bread with mayonnaise.

I look back on the Thanksgivings of my youth with mixed feelings. I remember at times I would think about the turkey as a real animal rather than just a meal. At those times, I would feel bad, wondering why this bird had to give his or her life for the sake of our supper. I would ease my conscience with the thought that Thanksgiving and turkey were synonymous—you couldn't have one without the other. Not only was turkey the whole point of Thanksgiving, but it was something that everyone, including my family, subscribed to—it must be right! But even if it wasn't, there was nothing a young boy could do about it.

I've learned a lot since then. I know now that, while it can't be denied that a certain amount of tradition has evolved around eating a turkey as the main dinner course, and while that tradition holds memories for lots of us, that doesn't make it right. Eating turkeys is not the whole point of Thanksgiving. The slaughter of a bird is no closer to the meaning of the holiday than are the Macy's parade or the football games on the majority of our television sets. There are other traditions to be had for the asking that can be just as enjoyable and even more meaningful. I also know that what matters to me now about those Thanksgivings long ago is not what we ate, but what we were—a family with an opportunity to be together, to share our support and love for one another.

While many of the family members I shared my early Thanksgivings with are now gone, in many ways the holiday itself means more to me now than it ever has. Part of the reason is that I no longer have to endure those tugs at my conscience—there is no turkey on my table. While I once felt powerless to defy tradition and change that one aspect of the holiday that bothered me, I now know that my Thanksgiving is whatever I choose to make it.

This year at our vegetarian Thanksgiving feasts we will all have a great deal to be thankful for. We'll have the opportunity to celebrate the fruits of the harvest, and to revel in the bounty that the earth provides without the necessity of taking life. There will be good food and good friends.

This year I'll have my eye on the children, and I'll admire their parents for raising them as vegetarians. Together with vegetarian families across the country they will be creating new Thanksgiving Day traditions—traditions that carry with them a message of reverence for life that can be passed from generation to generation.

Thanksgiving is a special holiday for vegetarians. This is particularly true for vegetarian children, as their Thanksgiving will have only the joy and the love—without the killing, and without knowing the guilt. What a fine Thanksgiving that is!

Being More than We Ever Thought We Could Be

The good news is that I can still comfortably wear several of the items of clothing I wore in college. …The bad news is that they are all shoes.

 

A study that appeared last year in the New England Journal of Medicine found that the average American gains about one pound during the Thanksgiving to New Year's holiday, over-eating, season. That doesn't sound like much of a weight gain, considering the amount of pumpkin pie, gravy and stuffing most Americans stuff into themselves during those six weeks. The problem, though, is that despite our best New Year's resolutions, we never seem to lose that extra pound. And a one-pound-a-year weight gain can really add up. By the time we reach middle age we find we've gone from a "size 2" to "the size of 2."

I used to think that we vegetarians were immune from worries about being fat. I thought all vegetarians were skinny. Of course, that was back in the days when I could see my neck above my shirt collar. That was back when I could zip up my pants.

Now I have to face the fact that even my vegan diet won't save me from the inevitable. No, I don't eat gravy and stuffing, or even pumpkin pie—at least at the non-vegetarian holiday parties I go to. Instead, I stand by the nut bowl and consume 47 handfuls of roasted cashews. Gads. The net effect is just the same. I'm a veritable poster boy for the American holiday weight-gaining experience. It's amazing I don't gain two pounds every year.

Sometimes I wonder why all vegetarians aren't fat. If there's one thing we all have in common it's a love of food. And we all eat way more than the "normal" human beings around us. Last week, for example, I went to dinner with a group of vegetarians. We were at a restaurant known for large portions, but that didn't slow us down a bit. Between the 8 of us we ordered 12 entrees. (Count 'em—12!) Then we went out for desserts. I felt like we should have had a warning sign for other diners: "We're vegetarians. Don't get between us and food!"

Of course, I'm bad even by vegetarian standards. The other day at the office I was trying to squeeze the lunch I'd brought in onto two full-size dinner plates when a friend said sheepishly: "Gee, isn't that a lot of food?" I guess it was. No wonder I can't see my feet anymore. No wonder my parents just sent me sweat clothes big enough to house the circus.

Things have gotten so bad lately that I've started to look at the processed foods grocery stores stock for fat people. I've already tried vegan "lite" (grocers don't think we fat people can spell) mayonnaise and Thousand Island dressing. Not bad, but not exactly health food either. I had my eye on a jar of "Santa Cruz Fat Free Guacamole" until I read the label and realized it wasn't really guacamole (no avocados!) and it wasn't even fat-free (canola oil was a listed ingredient!). Grocers must think we fat people are stupid too.

I'm not sure what to do next. I looked into one of those weekend fasting retreats, but the price they quoted me was kind of high—and that didn't even include meals. Maybe I'll join a health club. Then again, maybe I should just resign myself to my place in history. I'll be the one in the back row, between the Michelin Man and the Goodyear Blimp. I'll have a spare tire around my waist too.

The year 2000 census tells us that there are now more than 283 million Americans. Nearly 55% of us are already fat, and collectively we're gaining 283 million pounds a year.

It's amazing the whole country doesn't just sink into the ocean.

Fast Food Revisited

We vegetarians tend to ignore fast-food restaurants. Oh, we know they're around, of course. Who could miss the tacky architecture, the cheap building materials, the garish colors, the plastic, and the acres of free parking? But there are so many of them that they all tend to meld into the entropy of the suburban landscape. No self-respecting vegetarian would patronize these places, and it's only when the wind blows in the right (wrong?) direction, giving us a whiff of air thick with rancid grease, that we say to ourselves, "Oh my god, there's a KFC over there!"

I have been pretty successful in ignoring fast-food restaurants for the past 25 years. I do, though, admit to having dined at the Wendy's salad bar a few times when dragged there by others. (My parents were big Wendy's fans). It was always an experience.

When your only knowledge of fast food comes from what you see on television, it's quite a shock to actually walk into one of those restaurants. The first thing I always notice is that everything is covered with a sticky film that I guess comes from being repeatedly coated with grease and wiped down by wash rags. Tasty. And the high school kids behind the counter don't look anything like their counterparts (that's a pun) on television. Where are the fit bodies, the tailored uniforms and the perky smiles? Why doesn't anyone at the real restaurants seem to care about their jobs or their customers? And how come the manager, a young man with bad acne in a short-sleeved, lime-green "dress" shirt, can't string two coherent sentences together when he's yelling at his employees? Television makes working in a fast-food restaurant seem like valuable training for bright young people on their way to Congress. In real life one can see that this is where our society warehouses the undereducated and the less fortunate—condemning them to a life of struggle on a minimum wage.

Then, of course, there is the food. Television makes fast-food burgers seem the size of Mount Olympus, sizzling off the grill and topped with a mound of carefully-placed condiments. The real thing—haphazardly thrown together, mushed into a paper wrapper or Styrofoam box, and then left to rot on a warming tray—is quite a different story. Is this what people come in here for, I always wonder? Or are they on a never-ending search for that perfect burger they see on the television screen?

It's been so long since I've visited Wendy or Ronald or the Colonel that I thought it might be time to reeducate myself on the fast-food industry. No, I'm not going to try out any of the food, but I thought a little research might be in order. Here are some of the things I found:

• For his marvelously entertaining documentary Super Size Me, director Morgan Spurlock ate nothing but McDonald's' food for thirty days. The result? He gained more than 20 pounds and stressed his liver to the brink of failure.
  
• A lot of people seem to be just like Morgan. Seven percent of the US population visits McDonald's each day, and 20 to 25 percent eat in some kind of fast-food restaurant.
  
• Research has shown that children consume an average of 126 more calories on days when they eat at a fast-food restaurant. That difference would translate into a weight gain of 13 pounds in one year.
  
• In 2003, the CDC declared obesity the most important public-health issue in the United States. Two-thirds of Americans are now overweight or obese. Obesity increases the risk for type 2 diabetes, and children and teenagers are contracting this "adult-onset" diabetes at a rapidly increasing pace. In Texas, we may have the first generation in which the parents will have longer life expectancies than their kids, as obese children who develop diabetes before 14 years of age can expect their lifespan to be reduced by 17 to 29 years.
  
• McDonald's likes children as customers very much. So much so that it has become the largest private operator of playgrounds in the U.S. In some urban areas McDonald's may be the only safe place in the neighborhood for children to play.
  
• Fast-food companies do have their good side. McDonald's corporation contributed $5 million to the victims of hurricane Katrina. While that seems very generous, the gift amounts to less than 0.13% of the $3.9 billion in cash the company generated from its operations last year.
  
• Money buys influence, and occasionally makes for strange bedfellows. Among the people making pitches on the McDonald's website are Bob Greene, Oprah Winfrey's personal trainer (Hey, wasn't it Oprah who swore on national television she'd never eat another hamburger?), and Dean Ornish, MD (Isn't he the same guy who's been preaching a near-vegan diet to eliminate heart attacks?!). Go figure.
  
• One of the main reasons people flock to fast food, of course, is that it is an inexpensive way to get lots of calories. If I were so inclined (I'm not) I could satisfy my daily caloric needs with McDonald's hamburgers for $21.06 a day. To get that same number of calories from organic greens (let's say kale) at my local farmers' market I'd have to pay about $61.00!
  

  How come hamburgers bought at a new restaurant with a 2-story built-in playground are only about 1/3 the price of greens bought off the back of an old truck in a parking lot? Lower materials costs, less overhead, easier production, lower advertising budget? Nah. Subsidies, cheap wages, massive scale of production, and even more subsidies? Yup.

In this case, though, you get what you pay for. The relatively expensive kale would have hugely less saturated fat, more protein, and less than half the sodium of the hamburgers. It would also have 45 times the calcium, 191 times the vitamin C and a whopping 34,739 times the vitamin A!

The world of fast food is indeed fascinating. But if you don't mind, I think I'll continue to study it from afar. I'll be in the parking lot, eating my kale.