Yesterday was perhaps the most American of days (excluding Xmas, 4th of July, and this coming Thursday, which I’m sure I don’t have to remind you is the first day of Chinese New Year). My friends and I gathered around the TV and put on the game, and treated ourselves to a feast fit for about 300 sumo wrestlers. There were ten of us.
Now, it’s not like I eat this way every day. The Superbowl is a special day, where we’re all given a free pass to binge on salty, fatty, orange-colored foods. It’s part of what makes America great. Right?
No, not right. Aside from the crippling stomach situation that resulted from my 8-course meal (consisting mainly of chips, cream, cheese, cream cheese, salt and beer), the feast left me with a soul-ache. This had a lot to do with the fact that most of the food I procured for the event wasn’t seasonal or organic (except for the salsa and some of the chips). And it had a whole lot to do with the sheer amount of food that my cohorts and I stuffed so willingly into our faces.
The act of binge eating is pretty gross, both physically and spiritually. It’s very hard to justify your third helping of cheesecake when you know a) that it’s going to eventually kill you; and b) that the unfair distribution of resources has left millions around the world without enough to eat, while you’re eating until you become physically ill. Nevermind all the suffering that those non-organic cows had to go through to pump out the milk to make the cheese, and the several million underpaid and exploited workers worldwide who spent their days slaving away in cane fields just to make the sugar that you’ll probably not even stop to savor because you’re all distracted by the look of sheer determination on Eli Manning’s face.
And then there’s this little mess:
These babies are being sent off to the recycling plant ASAP, but does that make my liver feel any better? Will that help to counter of the carbon that was spewed skyward from budweiser trucks in order to deliver this stuff to my local store? Of course not.
All I can do at this point is shake my head in shame. Plus, I lost 10 bucks for betting on the Patriots. Like my losing team, I spend today reflecting on my actions and wondering “what went wrong?” “What can I do next time to balance my fun American traditions with my profound dedication to sustainable living?”
What happened yesterday is a thing of the past, Tom Brady, but together, with a little hope, a lot of effort, and the speedy expulsion of your Supermodel Girlfriend from the continental United States, we can make 2009 a record-breaking superbowl.
Seriously, just get rid of the Brazilian chick.