Mother, why do you gaze out the window so forlornly?

Because your father has gone to fight in the war, and I don't know when he might return.

Which war, Mother? The war in Ukraine? The war in the Middle East?

No, child.

Is it the immigration war raging in American streets? Or has Father gone to help with troubles in Venezuela? To stabilize relations with Iran?

Hush with your incessant questions.

Greenland?

Child, your father has gone to fight in the War on Protein.

Did you say ... protein?

Yes.

What is ...

We must support him.

But, Mother, I don't understand. What did protein do that must be avenged by military force?

The food pyramid had a lot of cereal in it.

You mean that drawing from 1992 that told us what to eat? Wasn't that retired anyway?

Shh, child. The whole bottom part was solid Cocoa Puffs. Honey Smacks, Fruity Pebbles, Frosted Flakes. Cheez-Its. Tostitos. All scattered upon a downy bed of rice and pasta. Our nation's Health and Human Services Secretary Robert F. Kennedy Jr. has flipped the former pyramid on its head, liberating protein and relegating added sugar to the very bottom.

OK. That sounds fine. Probably good, actually.

Yes. Now, fetch the buttermilk from the cooling chambers, as the guidance is to consume three servings of dairy per day.

Excuse me?

We must lavish our skillets in butter and beef tallow with which to fry our daily portions of red meat flavored with salt.

Isn't that how Grandpa died?

Father is one of many fighting to ensure every American eats 1.2 to 1.6 grams of protein per kilogram of body weight! He will not rest until every child across America is consuming twice his body mass in heavy creams! He will fight until the nation returns to its rightful paleolithic order, and it is our job to maintain the homestead while he toils!

Mother ...

No more questions, away with you to the suet.

It's not about food. I just wonder, why must everything constantly be framed in terms of war?

Oh, poor youth of mine. Sit by the fire where I have a pork belly roasting in Alfredo. One day you will see that he who eats a steady diet of rendered beef fat experiences certain changes from within.

You mean cholesterol.

No. I mean that a dietary focus on saturated fats summons the Gods of Old, filling us with primordial rage that demands not only a fiber supplement but a warlike mentality applied to any and all issues. All is black and white. All is bloodshed achieved at peak masculinity. We must choose: beef or death.

I guess beef, then.

When your father returns from the War on Protein, he is scheduled to deploy to the War on Pull-ups in Airports. Now leave me as I figure out how to run a household on no salary and 16 jars of solid tallow.

Can I have a few Doritos?

Yeah, give me some.

Stephanie Hayes is a columnist at the Tampa Bay Times in Florida. Follow her at @stephrhayes on Instagram.

Photo credit: at Unsplash