| You know, I haven't said very much about the whole "Freedom" fries/toast/braid incident, and I think I realized why.
When there were large, world altering issues happening, the United States senate still took the time out of their schedules to change the name of the food in their cafeteria, or endorse the same. I suppose kissing the president's ass doesn't take more than a few minutes a day since we've become, normatively, a monarchy, but at the same time, you'd think this sort of thing would be below the upper crust. Political sniping at a group (the French) who, even though all Americans seem to pointlessly hate them, have a better record than the US in practically every respect seems to be asinine. But there's an even more interesting aspect to the whole thing - even in their finest hour, fighting against people who, for some reason, don't want to bomb a third world country, the US didn't even think to rename the various products after their own country. Culturally and culinarily, the US has an inferiority complex which dwarfs even the amount of bullshit spouted over this incident, cumulatively, by the GOP. There's such a stigma attached to the very concept of "American food" that, even if we do invent something, we're unwilling to take credit. Does anyone REALLY think that the "Mexican" food they get at Chipotle vaguely resembles something you could get, even in someplace like Tijuana? You know what food we DID invent, and proudly so? The Hotdog. What a pretty little metaphor for the US model of doing things. We take something and model it vaguely on Europe (For example, a polish sausage) and then we take a little from column A, a little from column B, some pig's feet, rat's tails, grind it all up and inject it into a plastic coating - and voila! American culture. The US is like a sponge. We soak up trends from around the world, mix them all together in the dirty bucket of water which composes the collective American mind, and then squeeze out the murky liquid to be absorbed by the rest of the world. It's like the uniquely American invention of miniature golf. No other country in the world would take a game like golf, meant to be played out on the vast expanses of the Scottish countryside in the majesty of nature, and put it in miniature towns so that we could get rid of the skill aspect of the game while simultaniously feeling like Godzilla. Of course, we wouldn't be satisfied with that, so we add in the classic windmills just so we can feel like we're conquering the Dutch countryside right up until the bonus 19th hole, which is invariably breaking the teeth, nose and eyes of a massive clown head. What kind of Freudian nightmare is a mini golf course? How fucking surreal is that shit? Answer: Not as much as another paragon of American ingenuity. The corporation which is going to start a civil war with Scientology in Florida, and in fact has already built a goddamn castle stronghold, complete with "Experimental Prototype Community Of Tomorrow." That's right, Disney world. Whose twisted idea was it to have a massive rodent walk around in bright red hotpants? Or to have a belligerent Navy duck who, as far as I can tell, only really comes ashore to have a toss with another massive talking duck? Of course, then they have a huge "theme park" which occupies five ZIP codes and, as far as I know, is responsable on its own for a sixth of the electorate as well as two fifths of the state's GDP - and one of their most valuable, recognizable rides is a bunch of massive teacups which spin in the auspices of a flying fucking elephant. I swear, America is Hegel's wet dream when it comes to advancing culture. It's the antithesis of taste, intellectualism and... well... reality. Camus will have to be revived to pick a new title for his philosophy: all your Absurdism are belong to us. cranked out at 6:51 PM | |
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