July 30, 2011 § Leave a comment

Today begins a five-part, daily series covering a five-day juice cleanse being undertaken by Victoria and myself. These columns will be sanctimonious, hopefully humorous and, dare I say it, even educational (concerning what, I have no idea- that is left to Providence).

It all started when my mother, while visiting, bought us a fancy, steel-encased, titanium-loaded juicer from the Breville company, whose origins happen to be in my home town of Sydney, Australia, although during childhood, the only thing I ever saw Australians drink was beer. Or hops-juice, as it’s known down there.

Correction. It didn’t start with mum (Australian for mom). It began with Victoria surfing Netflix in search of entertainment and landing on a documentary titled Fat, Sick & Nearly Dead. The movie relates the story of a gentleman who saved his own life and cured all of his illnesses and attendant reliance on drugs through a 60-day fruit and vegetable juice cleanse. The film expands on the benefits of micro-nutrients and their scarcity in a modern diet lacking in fresh, organic food.

So here we are. We’ve arrived. Day 1 began at nine this morning with a visit to our local farmers market in Burbank.

For anyone who’s ever bought tasteless, nutrient-poor food from their local morgue dressed up as a supermarket (the only thing ‘super’ about one of these money-printing aircraft hangars is the bleach they use to clean the floors), namely everyone, a farmers market is the perfect antidote and, incidentally, is the future for all of us. Not only is the food real and cheap, but one is also recycling money within the community; when you hand over your cash, you look into the eyes of someone who is benefiting from that money. A dollar spent is a vote proffered; I thoroughly enjoyed voting for healthy food and self-sufficient communities today in Burbank.

But enough of my well-worn soapbox. Victoria sits across from me, her mood dangling perilously on the edge of a man-crushing abyss. Where will this abstinence take us? The expert in the film cautioned that the first two days can be, er… difficult. On the drive home I saw a sign for a “perfect, gentle cleanse.” It was a clinic which performed enemas. When medical institutions use the word  gentle, moisture begins to form in strange places and, trust me, not in a pleasurable way. I fret that this cleanse will be just as ‘gentle’ on my psyche.

In the old cliffhanger tradition, I leave this episode with questions unanswered. If you don’t see a column tomorrow, send out a search party.

Picture: The Terminator, the Big Kahuna, the Count of Monte Juicesto, the…. alright, it squeezes juice out of stuff.


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You are currently reading THE CLEANSE PART I at Marc Aden Gray's Column!.


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