There are these wonderfully awkward people who make you feel like you've spent your entire life doing a blindfold challenge. Eddie is definitely one of them. An ex-bodybuilder, ex-psychiatric nurse, and full-time nutrition zealot. The guy who tells you straight to your face, "Everything you cook isn't really food!" And you sit there, chewing on your oatmeal bagel, thinking: Damn, this guy's right.
His path to this position? The man worked for decades in psychiatric wards and witnessed "diet plans" that would probably make even sadists blush: cornflakes with sugar and fat-free milk – a menu that reliably catapulted patients either into a coma or into hypergalactic stupor. And if they completely "went berserk"? No problem. A dose of PRN medication and presto: peace and quiet. Who needs therapy when insulin and sedation take care of everything?
Eventually, Eddie had enough. Goodbye grooming, hello muscle culture. Bodybuilding of the 80s: raw eggs, red meat, liver tablets, breast milk if you could somehow get your hands on it. Not pretty, but effective. No protein bars that taste like the result of a lab flood. No whey shakes that contain more emulsifiers than a car care product line. Just real food – nutritious and functional.
And then came modernity. Protein bars with colors that don't occur in nature. Cereal bars that look like polishing pads with nutritional information. Whey shakes that supposedly "come from the cow" but are actually just a flavored, chemically enhanced treat. Kids go to the gym, work out, consume half a kilo of sugar in protein form, and then wonder about depression, acne, and digestion that reeks of bioterrorist activity.
Eddie watches this, shakes his head and thinks to himself: "I may have been crazy in the 80s, but I wasn't that crazy."
When self-proclaimed nutrition messiahs and social media gurus suddenly conquered the fitness world, preaching that you could build muscle with bagels, skyr, barista-style oat milk, and protein-packed cornflakes, Eddie finally snapped. His daughter persuaded him to make videos, and lo and behold: virality through anger, swearing, and common sense. Finally, someone who wasn't posing with a fake smile in front of a bowl of chia pudding, but passionately explaining why modern nutrition is destroying us mentally and physically.
The community grew, partly through miracle stories that are now officially called "anecdotal" because they don't come from someone with a CNN microphone to their face. People who took medication for 40 years and are suddenly symptom-free. A woman who was in a wheelchair for ten years and is now walking again—simply by changing her diet. According to official doctrine, impossible. According to Eddie: everyday life.
No wonder they don't invite him on TV. How would that even work? Eddie says, "McDonald's is slowly killing you," and then the Big Mac commercial plays right after. That's hard to coordinate.
His approach? Brutally simple: Eat real food. No powders, no lab-grown snacks, no "high-protein" miracles in foil packaging. Eat seasonally. Eat logically.
And stop believing that plants that can't be eaten without cooking are the backbone of our species.
The man says it like it is: We are animals. Animals eat other animals. Period. No cow has ever milked a protein bar. No wolf has ever cooked a lentil stew.
The truth is as simple as it is insulting: We've strayed so far from a natural diet that we now have allergies to avocados because they're drenched in pesticides and artificially bred for the European market. And then we wonder why our lips crack and our throats itch.
Eddie's final words – and unfortunately, they hit the nail on the head:
We are the only species that protects plants from animals by spraying them with poison – and then eating them. We're that stupid.

"Dravens Tales from the Crypt" has been enchanting for over 15 years with a tasteless mixture of humor, serious journalism - for current events and unbalanced reporting in the press politics - and zombies, garnished with lots of art, entertainment and punk rock. Draven has turned his hobby into a popular brand that cannot be classified.








