Holiday Oven Stuffers

There’s a horrifying scene in Aliens where a man is found, barely alive and covered in goo, deep in the momma aliens’ lair. “Please. Kill me,” he whispers when the space marines pass by.

I'm reminded of this when I see the office admin assistant during the holidays. “Please. Eat some,” she whispers when co-workers pass by. Her workstation is the makeshift depository for butter cookies, chocolate pretzels and treats sent from the clients -- food people didn’t want at home, or near their desks. The admin looks really depressed, and there is powdered sugar all over her sweater.

The holidays are a rough time for Americans, who are, in general, a bunch of porkers. (But we're not alone. The Brits are getting tubby too.) Here in Cincinnati, city of pastries and sausage products, the kids are so gigantic they are having their stomachs removed.

And the problem isn't limited to the earth. True news item: Astronuats on the space station are unexpectedly eating their way through the food supply too quickly. They may have to abandon ship before Christmas if they can't pull back from the buffet.