Everybody just stop reposting that unsourced NY Times GIF-set about adulterated olive oil.

Stop it. Stop. The New York Times is not somebody's Tumblr, they don't get to get away with unsourced-GIF-set-based reporting.

I'm pretty sure the original source for their "69% of extra-virgin olive oil is adulterated" is this single 2010 study from UC Davis, which did not cover the entire country. I'm also pretty sure that the NYT doesn't know that this was the original source. Because there was a 2011 follow-up that gave even more alarmist numbers, which they (and everyone else writing panicked articles about olive oil) would doubtless prefer.

Also, apparently it is a Bad Thing that some olive oil comes from countries other than Italy? (Do we trust Italy to behave itself all of a sudden, is it a bastion of consumer faith now, when did that happen.) That big study about the effectiveness of a Mediterranean diet in preventing heart disease - the one that is the reason a lot of people care so much about this in the first place - used only Spanish olive oil.

And I'm going to stop researching olive oil now because I need to go to bed and it is a stupid thing to be mad about.

Dad has no idea why his stomach is always upset.

At the age of almost-60, my father still believes that running cold water over a dish for a couple seconds means that it is clean, and that all that is necessary to clean pet urine off of a surface upon which people eat is to wipe it down with a dry dishtowel.

Probably totally unrelated: Dad has to get a colonoscopy because his stomach is always upset.

Dad: I'm not going to do it! I'm not! I'm not going!

Me: Once I had to get an upper GI series done, Dad? I had to fast, and then I went in they made me put on a robe and drink a big cup of barium, and I heaved some of it up on the robe and had to change and then drink even more. I didn't get to be asleep for this, they didn't put it into me with a tube down my throat, I had to consciously chug that barium. Whereas you are going to be asleep -

Dad: You know, in ancient civilizations, they didn't have colonoscopies. And they were fine!

Me: Dead by forty.

Dad: Maybe it was better that way.

-

Dad: I'm not doing it! No!

Mom: Dear, you are going, or I am never going to humor another complaint about your stomach again. All right? You will sit there whining, and I will simply ignore your suffering.