How quickly can you think of the most offensive phrase your ears could possibly hear?
One one-thousand, two one-thous… I’ve got mine.
The first time I heard this phrase I just about dropped my shrimp taco. I thought we had scaled the heights of culinary arrogance with Taco Bell’s insistence on continually inventing new “food” items like it’s most recent contrivance, the Bacon Ranch Tortada. It’s just a squished and scorched burrito – at best a wrapped quesadilla – it’s not a whole new thing. But I’ll say this for Taco Bell, at least they didn’t call it the Pepperoni Ranch Tortada.
I thought we’d achieved the American Dream with the Double Down & Zac Efron, but those were mere pit stops on the way. Now we finally know why millions of people over hundreds of years left everything they’ve ever known, crossed dangerous oceans and melted themselves into this giant pot. All along they must’ve seen on that distant horizon a future where fresh undergarments are routinely delivered to a person’s home thereby saving everyone from the tyranny of shopping for and replacing dirty underwear. That is the American Dream. That is Manpacks!
Don’t get me wrong, I love the Earth. It’s the only home we have… or so we’re told. But I wonder if wishing it Happy Earth Day is like to taking a birthday cake to the Grim Reaper’s house.
Forgive me if that sounds rude, but HELLO!!! THE EARTH DOESN’T LIKE US VERY MUCH.
Have you not yet realized the Earth is trying to kill us? Like, literally, like right now, this second, trying to extinguish us.
Where’s the evidence you ask? Here it is: earthquakes, tsunamis, volcanoes, floods, mudslides, tornadoes, typhoons, hurricanes, snakes, forest fires, blizzards, ice ages, polarity reversal, tar pits, quicksand, spiders, deserts, mountains, hailstorms, lighting, salt water, geysers, cacti, gila monsters, plagues, scorpions, sandstorms, and Big Macs (oh wait, that last one’s on us).
So, don’t be surprised if I’m hesitant to send Mother Earth a green greeting card on her special day.
How easily we dismiss the challenging and prophetic because it doesn’t ascribe to common and naive notions of a “sensible and healthy diet.” Great visionaries speak and create into culture that which is hard to understand – and difficult to swallow. Such is the case with the Double Down.
I suspect that most people will either love or hate it for the wrong reasons. They will see nothing more than a food product or nothing less than an abomination. But if you can tune your eyes and mind to a different frequency – the frequency of genius – you’ll see another side of the story.
I don’t like little fat kids as much as the next guy. Oops, I mean. I don’t like that little kids are fat as much as the next guy. But this Let’s Move initiative has gone too far. Way too far.
I recently heard a radio spot sponsored by the Ad Council and the Let’s Move campaign featuring Misty May-Treanor, Bugs Bunny and Daffy Duck. Whoever they hired to voice Misty May-Treanor totally nailed it.
I think I can only describe the severity of sonic transgression this way: putrid recorded refuse not fit for the ears of democrat, republican or tea-partier. (Although, I have not yet confirmed whether or not tea-partiers do in fact have functional ears. I’m not up on the current research.) It was so phoned in I think they sneaked into the Smithsonian, dusted off Alexander Graham Bell’s first prototype, and made the call over AT&T’s wireless network.
What in the name of all that is food IS this? I can’t tell if I’m more put off by the directionless commercial or the fact that Taco Bell thinks that its food service standards and culinary excellence have led them, naturally, to the crowded table of watery, tasteless farmed shrimp.
What is this commercial trying to say exactly? Is it poking fun of itself? The notion of a “shrimp blogger” scouring all the corners of the earth for palate-pleasing plankton (I am aware shrimp are actually benthic and feed on plankton so are therefore not plankton. But if I’d been trying to be biologically accurate, I wouldn’t have been able to use such amusing alliteration. So I’ll call it prosaic license. Though, I suppose I could’ve gone with “palate-pleasing prawn” but in that instance I lose the internal consonance of the letter “L” and also introduce a rhythmic imbalance by ending the rhyme on a monosyllable.) would lead me to think that a tongue-in-cheek approach is being used.
I have no problem admitting my bromance with Jamie Oliver. I’ve written about it elsewhere.
Stalkerishly, I tuned in to see the sneak peek of his new show, Jamie Oliver’s Food Revolution, on ABC last Sunday night.
I laughed, I cried (literally), and I was blown away by Pastor Steve Willis of First Baptist Church of Kenova. I can’t remember the last time I saw an actual pastor on TV not willfully (or ignorantly) make himself – and by extension Christendom – a mockery.
Pastor Steve, fed up with seeing his congregation basically die from eating too much crap for far too long, is tackling gluttony from the pulpit, advocating his flock eat a little more grass and a little less fat. (My words, not his.)
At 17:00 in the first episode, Jamie, downtrodden from apathetic lunch ladies who don’t see any problem feeding kids processed piles of chemicals masquerading as food, visits Pastor Steve’s church on a Sunday morning.
I was really surprised last week when I learned that PBS, which was formerly the Public Broadcasting Service, now stands for People magazine Broadcasting Service.
Well, it doesn’t really. But it should, now that Henry Louis Gates Jr.’s celebrity-worshiping show Faces of America became the flagship series on the only channel where I thought I was safe from smirking, inflated celebrity heads.
Here’s what this rubbish says to me: “Hey everyone, here are some people who literally have everything in the world and are idols to millions. Let’s esteem them some more by showing them how special their genealogy is, and how truly extraordinary they are, and that they were obviously destined to be better then the rest of loser America. Then we’ll make ourselves feel better by posting some lame educational stuff on the website and squeezing in some crap about how we are all special and are likely descended from awesome people in the past just like these super-awesome celebrities. AREN’T THEY AWESOME!! AAHHHHH!! SEND US MONEY!!!!”
How about giving us a show where we learn that some depressed contractor stuck in Idaho (sorry to any Idahoan contractors reading this) is really a descendant of Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod and is thereby empowered to stake his own claim to immortality. Or whatever. Anything but more celebrity worship on TV.
TagsAndrew Sullivan Apologetics Arts Atheism Barack Obama Bible Book Review Books Capitalism Catholic Church Charles Taylor Christian Christianity Christianity Today Church Conservatives Evangelicalism Evangelicals Facebook Faith God Gospel Coalition History Jesus Journalism Mark Driscoll Marriage Marvin Olasky Media Michele Bachmann New Sincerity New York Times Not Your Mother's Morals Patheos Philosophy Politics Pop Culture Religion Religion and Spirituality Rob Bell Ross Douthat Same-sex marriage Secularism Theology United States