Newspaper front pages on Reagan’s death.

Matt and I saw “Super Size Me” last night.

Ick.

For those who don’t know, the premise of this documentary is that filmmaker Morgan Spurlock eats nothing but McDonald’s food for 30 days. He sets the following rules for himself: he has to try everything on the menu at least once, he can’t eat or drink anything that doesn’t come from McDonald’s, and if he’s offered to super-size his meal, he has to say yes. He enlists three doctors to monitor his health, which greatly deteriorates over those 30 days. He gains 10 pounds in the first week alone; by the end of the month, he’s gained 25. He gets chest pains; he feels depressed and loses his sex drive; his liver starts to mimic the diseased liver of an alcoholic.

Ick.

The ostensible point of the film is to show bad McDonald’s food is for you, but the larger message is that the nation’s food industry sells us crappy food, and we choose to eat it.

Especially kids.

This is partly because of all the food advertising skewed toward children, but I think a more important cause is that parents don’t make dinner as often anymore. They’re too busy to make a meal, because they both work during the day and they’re both wiped out once they get home, and who wants to cook?

A few years ago I worked for a woman who was co-writing a book about meals made from fresh, local, organic ingredients. (I proofread it for her.) I worked for her for a year, and she and her assistant were very into healthy eating. I learned a great deal from them both. I haven’t quite taken all of their lessons to heart, but I do usually try to eat as many fruits and vegetables as I can.

It’s odd that we pay so little attention to the things we put into our very own bodies.

Anyway — “Super Size Me” is totally worth seeing.

And I won’t be eating at Mc Donald’s for a long, long time.

The obit desk meets the undead. An article about the longstanding news practice of writing obituaries in advance of someone’s death.

When [former Boston mayor John] Collins asked whether Nolan was gathering material for his obituary, Nolan replied in the affirmative — which, in turn, led Collins to wonder aloud whether he could ever get favorable treatment from the Globe, of which he had been a bitter critic. Nolan recalls telling him, ” ‘You could die on a slow news day.’ And the son of a bitch died on Thanksgiving. He died on the slowest news day of the year.”

I don’t know why I’m so fascinated by obituaries. I just am.

Speaking of which — Ray Charles died today. R.I.P.