Legal Man Takes on the "Fat Pushers" Who's Next? Krispy Kreme?

The brand new ballyhooed Krispy Kreme donut store opened last Tuesday in Pittsburgh on Route 51 South like some sort of community gala with rent-a-cops directing traffic and cars backed up 30-deep at the Drive-Thru. Outside the front door, keyed up donut seekers camped out in tents for three days hoping to be first in the door and win the grand prize giveaway of a free weekly dozen of Krispy Kremes for a year.

My wife, who says she hasn't eaten a donut in seven years, was handed a complimentary Original Glazed Krispy Kreme while we waited in line, ate the whole thing and said that a donut being put in your hand free, soft and warm was too irresistible so she was never going back.

In today's America, of course, giving people free and enticing donuts may be enough to set up Krispy Kreme for a lawsuit … by fatties. In New York, for instance, lawyers representing Caesar Barber, 56, a 5-foot 10-inch maintenance worker who weighs 272 pounds, have filed a class-action lawsuit against McDonald's, Wendy's, Kentucky Fried Chicken and Burger King, claiming their fare caused their client's obesity and medical calamities.

Suffering from high blood pressure, diabetes, high cholesterol and two heart attacks, and no family history of any of these illnesses, Mr. Barber claims his life was shattered by Whoppers, malt desserts, fried chicken and Big Macs.

"They said 100 percent beef," explains Barber. "I thought that meant it was good for you. I thought the food was okay." Most of us know, of course, that broiled Lemon Sole is better on the arteries than a Double Whopper with Super-Sized Fries, but John Banzhof, a legal advisor on the case, says it's not a matter of individual responsibility, or common sense, not when there's a deep pocket in the vicinity to pick: "The issue is not who is responsible --- because in most cases it is a case of joint responsibility --- but rather whether or not fast food companies which over-advertise, heavily promote to children and fail to make a clear and conspicuous disclosure of fat and calorie content should bear zero responsibility for the $117 billion in obesity costs."

Let's say the "joint responsibility" breaks down 50-50, that McDonald's, etc., owe half the $117 billion, or $58.5 billion, per year. Who pays? Customers, through higher prices? Employees, through layoffs and fewer pay hikes? Stockholders, through lower retirement incomes? And who gets the money? Does Mr. Barber need receipts? And in a class-action, do the rest of us weigh in at the courthouse, and collect more if we tip the scale at higher numbers?

New York attorney Samuel Hirsch, who is representing Barber, says millions of us can be included in the claim. The companies, he maintains, aren't giving us easy-to-understand information regarding health risks, fat grams, salt, calories and cholesterol: "You have to be a rocket scientist to be able to read the labels."

I just checked my Krispy Kreme box and Mr. Hirsch is right. There's no warning about my life being shattered by donuts. And, incidentally, no warning from Stolichnaya. There's a bottle of Citrona in front of me while I'm typing this, and two empties. It just says "Premium Malt Beverage with the Natural Flavors of Lemon and Lime" on the front label. Sounds healthy, "natural." And on the back in small print, just the standard Government Warning about not getting plastered while you're pregnant or operating machinery, i.e., nothing about the hazards associated with simultaneous drinking and writing, nothing about beer bellies.

Barber told MSNBC that he didn't understand that fast food was bad for him until three years ago, after five decades and something like 4,000 Whoopers and Big Macs. "I didn't find out how bad it was until 1999," he said. "I ate a lot because I was by myself."

And the millions of victims that Mr. Hirsch says could be included in his class-action claim? A report by the U.S. Surgeon-General states that 61 per cent of Americans are now significantly overweight, compared with 55 per cent in the early 1990s and 46 per cent in the late 1970s.

Plus our pets are victims of America's food pushers. Out for a ride, our two Golden Retrievers can't go past a McDonald's or DiCarlos Pizza without running like mad dogs in the back seat. All told, an estimated 62 million of our dogs and cats are now officially overweight or obese, some 55 percent of the nation's pet population.

Here's the check to see if your pet is overweight, courtesy of ABC's Good Morning America: "Place both thumbs on your pet's backbone, and run your fingers along his rib cage. If you cannot easily feel the ribs with slight pressure, your pet is probably overweight. Or stand directly over your dog or cat while they are standing up. If they don't have a clear and defined 'hourglass' figure, they are probably overweight."

Bottom line, we're a nation overstuffed with "people of size," and fat pets, and lawyers. The strategy, by way of Mr. Hirsch? Eat Krispy Kremes by the carload, [call your local ambulance chaser], and steer clear of the company's stock. Played right, we'll all be fat and rich.

Ralph R. Reiland is the B. Kenneth Simon professor of free enterprise at Robert Morris University in Pittsburgh.