I don’t know what else to call McDonald’s food, so I call it the Glomp. I think it’s possible that it’s all the same substance – shaped, colored, and flavored into various edible manifestations.
There’s probably a big Blender Facility someplace where they herd cattle and pigs in one side and pour high-fructose corn syrup in another side, flour and butter and lard from huge pipes in another side. And in the end they pump the Glomp into shaping facilities, where it is turned into meat patties and dyed a nice, appetizing Meat Color, and then flavored to taste like meat. Or whipped into Extra Tasty Eggy Glomp with Egg Flavoring, or Eternally Crispy French Fry Glomp – don’t forget the salt!
Seriously, they’ve got their chemicals together. I just had a Glomp Muffin with Glomp this morning, and it tasted exactly like it was supposed to taste. Mmmmm, I said. That’s some pretty good Glomp.
Did you know that if you take a bite out of a McDonald’s cheeseburger, you probably have meat from a thousand cows in your mouth? And it would be flavorless without artificial beef flavoring and a slice of Whatever That Is Which Isn’t Quite Cheese But Looks Like It? And also that it would be flat gray, if not for the Cooked Beef Coloring – they have a titanic arsenal of colors over there, like the Crayon box with the sharpener in it.
McDonald’s is one of those things you just don’t think about – I know that the last time I had a Quarter Pounder w/ Cheese, I found myself unwilling to look at it as I took each tasty, Glompy bite. A weird realization – I’m okay with putting this in my mouth and chewing it up and swallowing it, but looking at it might make me barf.
I wonder if Quarter Pounders have feelings which can be hurt in such a way? You never even look at me anymore, Tommy C! Well, why shouldn’t Quarter Pounders have feelings in them? They have everything else.
So when I saw in the news various stories about San Francisco outlawing Happy Meals, I was inspired by my fellow outraged citizens, stepping forward to defend the Glomp.
Hey you! They said. You don’t tell me what kind of horrific, soul-crushing Gristle Paste I’m allowed to pump into my children’s faces with a caulking gun! This is America! I’m not going to stand idly by while you undermine the rights of corporations to market Glomp to my kids with clowns and toys!
Godspeed, my fellow Americans. There are a lot of things to take to the streets about right now, but few are as important as ensuring that our nation’s children continue to get access to high-fat, low-nutrient garbage meals. I mean, first they took away candy cigarettes and Big League Chew, now they’re coming after the Glomp! Pretty soon, the Fifties are going to be completely gone!
I mean, what’s next? Bicycle helmets?!
I tell you, I know the defenders of the Glomp are correct – McDonald’s should probably be able to sell Happy Meals. Just like I know that white supremacist groups still get to enjoy freedom of speech and assembly.
But you know, I’ll tell you a secret. If I were sitting there at the park and a bunch of white supremacists started a rally, and then a rugby team showed up with pipes and tire irons, and beat their sick, racist asses into the grass, well I would know that I was witnessing a violation of the white supremacists’ rights.
You can bet, however, that I would not be getting up to fight a rugby team about it. I’d be cracking up and having a good old time, because I don’t like white supremacists and I’m not a cop. Later, when the cops did show up, there is a good chance that I’d be unable to remember what any of the attackers looked like, and I might identify them as a tennis team or a bunch of traveling acrobats or maybe just bears wearing hats.
Similarly, although my rational mind says that McDonald’s probably has the right to sink eight-digit amounts of money into marketing dangerous, fat-soaked garbage to children, and that parents are the ones who need to make the decision not to give it to them, well what can I say? I’m looking around at the kids in America, and they’re not looking too sharp, guys.
They’re looking like a bunch of miniature forty year-olds, and not the kind at the gym.
The mayor – of San Francisco, not Mayor McCheese – just vetoed the ban yesterday, though it was passed with enough votes in the first place to overturn his veto. So it’s kind of a hollow veto. But his argument was that decisions like what to eat for lunch should be left to parents, not the government.
Yes, because parents are doing such a bang-up job on that front right now. Look to your left and now to your right. Chances are, one of those people believes – because of a commercial -that Chef Boyardee Ravioli really does have two servings of vegetables in it. You just have to really stretch the definition of “vegetable.” Stretch it like one of those human sling shots at NHL games.
I mean, I can feel it. Any second now, American parents are going to suddenly become immune to marketing, and they’ll start making good decisions about health and nutrition, and they’ll stop falling into slack-jawed, drool-heavy trances every time giant corporations turn on their Marketing Beams.
Any second now, here it comes. There’s no need for a law – parents got this, right?
It’s a slippery slope, the Defenders of the Glomp warn us. If we allow this government intrusion on what we stuff into our faces, pretty soon the only thing we’ll be able to buy for lunch will be some crappy, vegetable-laden, nutrient-fest. Oh, sure, it will save our economy billions and possibly trillions of dollars in health care costs, and our population will live longer, and our children will be happier and healthier and considerably more quick and fit. And sure, that would be a hell of a lot better for the environment.
But it’s much more important that we don’t allow Big Brother to regulate our Glomp. We’ve got to stick it to the Man here, and sort of coincidentally support giant Glomp Corporations, while we’re at it.
Where would we be, after all, without them?
And: The Way of McCheese