Archive
09/13/11 - (2)
Stay Puft Nation
Ours is a country populated by Stay Puft Marshmallow Men. Obesity is our national anthem, sacred shibboleth, our Manifest Density. Morbid corpulence has, like Pac-Man on IT growth hormones,
Devoured the red Apple Pie, leaving blue Mom waving the white Flag (Subway Jared's size-XXXXLLLL parachute pants) — Good old American fat of the land, living on and off its own trans fats.
How we got this way, from having the leanest of mean fighting physiques, During the mid-forties of the last century, escapes me — Flexing our muscles, sinews, mettle, fighting the Battle of the Bulge,
Winning World War II, becoming the planet's heartthrobs, Only to realize that the enemy won the battle, after all, Making us POW's of chronically myocardial-infarcting throbbing hearts,
Thanks to the luxury-become-necessity of labor-saving devices, Food that requires nothing but thawing and heating up and popping, Entertainment and employment that asks nothing but sitting and staring,
All of it sandwiched between the bread and butter, meat and potatoes, Of our grossest national product: eating — feeding, grazing, gorging — Which, these battered-and-deep-fried-Twinkie-salad days, is eating our lunch,
Every obsessive second of every compulsive bellying-up to the trough, Until, finally, every last Stay Puft patriot will become his own big bang, Exploding into 300 million oozing pools of molten marshmallow cream.
09/13/11 - (2)
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