So, here I am channel-surfing on July 4th, the birthday of the greatest nation on earth, and what do I see? An unmistakable sign that the future of this country is a dark and barbarous place that hopefully I won’t live to see. In a country which already has a rampant obesity problem, we are celebrating a national holiday by watching a bunch of guys attempt to eat their weight in hot dogs.
Think about that for a minute.
First of all, aren’t we as a nation fucking fat enough? Just for purposes of full disclosure, I’m part of that problem. I will admit that I am a middle-aged guy who is bigger around the middle than he should be, but there was a day when I decided that needed to change. Over the last couple of years, I’ve made it a point to make sure there is 40 pounds less of me. Now don’t get me wrong, this isn’t going to be one of those preachy-ass “mommy blogs” about how I’m only feeding my family quinoa and organic soybeans. Fuck that noise. As a matter of fact, the really ironic part is as I’m writing a blog pointing out the completely fucked-up nature of a hot-dog eating contest, Mrs. Dubsism is grilling bratwursts for lunch.
That’s right. Despite my objection to this bacchanalian orgy of cylindrical meat, I too love a collection of meat-like substances loaded with nitrates and shoved into a tube. Why? Because I’m a goddamn American, that’s why. I don’t give a shit what kind of animal it was; if you grind it, spice it, and shove it in a casing, I’m there. But you know what? When you start sweating pork grease and your pulse becomes more erratic than the drummer in a high-school garage band, it is time to dial it back.
Seriously, just go to any supermarket in America and see how many people you see who are roughly the size of a Ford F-150. Look at how many people you see who are so fucking fat they get winded driving their motorized shopping cart. I saw a guy the other day who was so corpulent he needed to use elastic bandages to keep the skin on his legs from exploding. Then look at the shit they buy. Better yet, look at how they buy it.
One of the things that drives me absolutely fucking crazy is when I have to listen to this bullshit about “hungry” people in this country. This country is floating on food, and the fact that we’ve made eating a sport only proves that. Doubt that? When you are at the supermarket counting the truck-sized people, make a note of how full of food those giant buildings are. Then note how many trucks there are behind it bringing even more food. Then, to top it off, make note of how many of those human beachballs are filling their motorized shopping carts with absolute shit, then paying for it with some sort of welfare. Add it all up, and it becomes clear that we don’t have a hunger problem in this country, we have an epidemic of bad decision-making.
Yeah, I know right now, some bleeding-heart asshole out there is getting ready to tell me all about malnutrition in America and claim some wholly unprovable statistic. Not too long ago, I saw such a bit on a local news program, and every single one of the people they claimed were “suffering from hunger” and depended on a food bank all weighed at least 300 pounds. Besides, you can always buy a giant bag of potatoes for four bucks.
For comparison, let’s look at a place where there is real hunger. Pick your favorite third-world country; you know the kind where they are telling me they can feed some poor kid on only cents per day. Now, those people look hungry; they’ve got ribs sticking out and they have flies walking on their faces. You simply cannot look hungry with part of a McNugget stuck in your neck fat.
By now, you are asking just what the hell does this have to do with competitive eating? There’s another comparison that answers that question. Logic would dictate that a guy who make a living eating 60 hot dogs would know all about the benefits of elastic-waist pants? Seriously, how can one be involved in a sport which keeps statistics like “dogs per minute” and not weigh as much as an NFL offensive line?
You’re going to have to follow me close on this one. First, keep in mind these guys clearly aren’t eating because they are hungry of all; they eat because there’s money in it. Better yet, they aren’t eating any of that quinoa-soybean shit either. These guys are making a living gutting tacos, pizza, and all the other processed death stuff you see the scooter set buying. But if you see these competitive-gorgefests, you can’t help but notice the professional eaters aren’t aren’t morbidly obese; in fact several of them appeared to be in pretty damn good shape.
When you put it all together, it spells doom for America. Not only have we turned a basic survival instinct into competitive sport, we have a nation full of people who are eating at a professional level and not getting paid for it. Worse yet, these amateur face-stuffers aren’t even any good at it; i’st an eating “fail” if you can eat 60 hot dogs and somebody still thinks you are hungry.
Happy Birthday, America! Enjoy it while you still can.