Monday, March 14, 2011


i love that little flash of "whoa, they got me" resignation i get when i transcend the normal consumer and realize a clever marketing campaign worked on me. sporting more than a savvy eye on the business, i know the ins and outs of clever words like "organic" and "natural" and their ability to turn shit to gold; i'm the pin to the happy balloon of hopeful language; i know why certain things are on certain pages of certain magazines, which makes them seem insipid before i even acknowledge what dry celebrity is even on the cover. and yet, i get a thrill out of catching myself past the threshold of "wendy's healthy options," actually thinking, because it's fish and has something to do with salad, it qualifies as healthy, this warm yellow thought washing over the next few weeks of menu planning before abruptly turning grey with the realization that the same rancid oil deep fryers and burger presses used to make the rest of the fare are most likely responsible for the preparation of said "healthy fare."

it's as sincere a marketing campaign as the eggland's best attempt at reconciling with PETA.

one day, the filibuster alone caused by a congressional bill called the "it's all fun and games until everybody dies of morbid obesity act" will spur reality shows, their sequels, and several tell-alls published on edible paper sweetened with high fructose corn syrup, and i'll be swinging on my trapeze in heaven, engaged in a straddle whip with my husband, laughing at all those silly people down below, chewing themselves to death.

was that  morbid or funny?


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