What’s Really Making Us Sick: Hidden Dangers in Preserved Foods & A Rare Republican Stand in Congress
Jan 12, 2026
What I’m Discussing Today:
Kareem’s Daily Quote: I decided to go with Nelson Mandela today because I think we could all use a word of encouragement.
The Meek Resistance: Trump faces rare Republican opposition in Congress.
Looking Out for Numero Uno (and Type 2): Common food preservatives linked to cancer and diabetes.
Video Break: To quote Miss Piggy: Haiiii-yah!
Enough is Enough: Fed Changes Course and Takes On Trump's Political Fight.
What I’m Watching: Frankenstein…but sadly, not Mary Shelley’s. Not quite.
Jukebox Playlist: Itzhak Perlman: “Summertime” Classical meets Jazz.
Kareem’s Daily Quote
It always seems impossible until it’s done. Nelson Mandela
I remember when I first took an active interest in sports. It started with baseball. I loved it the way only a kid can love: wholeheartedly, without reservations. Loved it more than I can even say (or recall). But frankly, I had no natural talent for baseball, no gift; and somewhere in the recesses of my young being, I was well aware of that sad fact. So when my height and inclinations moved me into basketball, you’d think I had found my niche, that I’d be on Easy Street from there on out. Instead, that’s when the real criticisms began: “You’re too skinny. You’re not strong enough. You’re not coordinated. Forget it, you won’t make it, don’t waste your time.” Those are the kinds of messages that you carry around in your pocket, that you might even forget about until you reach your hand in there and discover to your dismay that they’ve been with you the whole time.
That’s when you have a choice to make. You can agree with the naysayers and quit, or you can use those little notes of criticism as motivation. Pull them out, look at them clear-eyed and determined, and tell yourself you’ll make it “in spite of.” That quote especially reminded me of my UCLA playing days.
I can still feel how wrong everything was that night in Houston in 1968. I was a skinny college student then, and the Astrodome made everything feel out of proportion. It was so huge that the court seemed to shrink, and with my left cornea scratched a week earlier, my vision and timing were just off enough to turn the night into a grind. I tried to will my way through it, but I shot 4-for-18 in what I still think of as one of the worst games of my college career, and Houston beat us 71–69 in front of 52,693 people, with every miss echoing in that dome. Afterward, when that Sports Illustrated cover that came out - I slid it into my locker where I’d have to see it every day. Not to torture myself, but to remember how quickly the world flips on you and how easy it is for everyone outside your team to decide your story is over. And when March came, that’s why the rematch mattered so much to me. In my own mind, my “fondest memory” of the NCAA Tournament was beating Houston 101-69 and what I once called the “most significant victory of my college career” because it turned that one night of doubt into a season of proof. That’s what I’d tell anyone now, in any arena: the impossible is usually just unfinished work; “It always seems impossible until it’s done.”
I didn’t convince myself to tune out the doubters with a pep talk. I drowned them out with hard work. I practiced running faster, jumping higher, shooting, passing and dribbling with both hands; over and over until the fundamentals followed me into my sleep. Until even my dreams and my worst nights were packed with the small details of the game, and I could still sense the ball’s bend in my palm long after I’d let it go.
What sports taught me and what Mandela’s words underscored 1is that “done” usually isn’t a single, triumphant instant. It’s a chain of small, stubborn steps, repeated without drama, that eventually add up to something people once swore couldn’t happen.
