I’ve often thought about what I would do if I ever found myself in some ransom-demanding, Dog Day Afternoon-type scenario. OK, not “often,” but I like to be prepared for anything. I like to think about what I would do in other fretful situations, like if I were on stranded while mountain climbing, trapped in a elevator with Kenny G and his saxophone, or asked to design a logo using a cross in place of the letter “T.” I’ve also thought about being married to Salma Hayek, but that’s an entirely different scenario.
My point in bringing up Dog Day Afternoon is that John Cazale was a very fine character actor. No, wait, my point was the ransom thing. The ransom I would demand would be simple. I would ask for one Saturday’s receipts from any Chick-fil-A Restaurant in a populous suburban area. I figure that would cover anything I may ever need. A private beach in Costa Rica, an extended stay hotel suite in Monte Carlo, a luxury yacht (permanently docked—I get motion sick pretty easily). A private brewery.
Chick-fil-A is a fine fast food restaurant. I enjoy the #1 Combo as much as anyone, but I don’t understand the obsession. The place is constantly mobbed. I could understand if they were giving away jet packs or invisibility cloaks or even those Dyson Air Blade hand dryers (how cool are those?). The Beatles aren’t reuniting on the playground. Or even Air Supply for that matter. Its chicken sandwiches. Its not like they’re selling McRibs. Now THERE is a sandwich.
When I was growing up, you had to have access to a mall in order to be close to a Chick-fil-A. But even then, there weren’t crowds clogging up the food courts, Later in college and even after I graduated, there were no throngs at the counters of Chick-fil-A.
It all changed when they built free-standing restaurants.
I can only understand the attraction as being anti-mall. I don’t want to brave the terrifying packs of 11-19 year olds walking the mall, all treading the fine line between being noticed an not standing out and ready to shriek, cry, laugh, or say “Dude!” at any given second, Often in the same second. I can have that experience at home every day, and without walking by something called Wet Seal or being sprayed by Damp Artichoke-Ginger Bath Splash as you stroll by Bath and Body Works.
Nowadays you can drive the SUV/minivan/crossover vehicle right up to the Chick-fil-A door. Well, not the door, exactly. Many, many, many people drive to Chick-fil-A; the parking lot looks remarkably similar to the Lakeside Chevrolet dealership (You won’t get soaked with our deals!).
A better option may be to stay right inside the cavernous luxury of your SUV of choice, and have them hand the food to you. This is apparently so appealing, that, despite a line of cars that begins RIGHT OUTSIDE THEIR HOME, thousands of people every day nudge their way into the herd and roll car length by car length to the drive through. There is even an employee stationed outside taking orders, coordinating traffic signals, calling a wrecker service, and aiding those who ran out of gas waiting in line.
This still doesn’t explain the popularity. Maybe its the illusion that chicken is better for you than a burger or a taco? Deep fried chicken breast on a buttered roll—smothered in mayonnaise if you like—and sided with more fried food. And sweet tea. It is exactly like eating apples and carrots! Apparently, thousands of suburbanites agree. Other places have drive thrus and nutritionally questionable food choices. I never see the line of cars around Wendy’s. Or Taco Bell. Or even Rapid Rabbit (this was a fast food restaurant in Waco Texas in the early 80s that served rabbit. No lie. It lasted about 8 hours before closing).
If you do find a parking space and survive the journey into the restaurant, it can appear less busy—don’t be fooled. It doesn’t seem as crowded because all of the children are crammed into the hermetically-sealed “Kids Play Area,” Here the children are free to climb and run through the enormous Habitrail hamster cage, sweating, shrieking, running into one another, stepping on fingers, and becoming violently excited until the food arrives, at which time they run to their tables, sweating shrieking, running into one another, stepping on fingers, and becoming violently excited and occasionally throwing up waffle fries,
Then just when you think the electric atmosphere couldn’t become more charged, the kids are visited by Chick-fil-A’s famous cow mascot! “Look kids! Go say hi to the friendly cow!” At which point the kids sweat, shriek, run into the cow, step on the cow’s udder, and become violently excited. “No no Timmy, we don’t bite the cow’s elbow! Tell the cow you’re sorry!” The cow mascot is of course the employee whose register didn’t balance properly the previous night. That is why the Chick-fil-A Corporation runs so well—all work in fear of the cow costume.
While in line the last time I dared visit, I noticed the menu has a chicken salad sandwich. Has anyone ever ordered this? Who braves a scene that looks like a Michael Bay movie only with more destruction to order a sandwich you can make at home, without the danger of hearing loss from a screeching toddler clutching a handful of cow costume fur?
Not me. I’m just going to stick with McRib. There’s never a line for those.
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
Monday, August 16, 2010
Issue by Issue, Part 2
During many summer afternoons in Houston, the skies often darken and thunder rumbles ominously and lightning arcs across the sky and Houston’s 27.5 million drivers (all of whom are on Interstate 10) slow down to a safe rate of speed (also known as “parking”) because—though I haven’t experienced this myself—many cars will spontaneously fill with Cheez Whiz should they be driven in the rain at any speed over 7 miles per hour. But despite the impressive show in the skies, more often than not, it never does rain. And the azaleas all wither and the grass turns brown and asphalt in the parking lots turns to Silly Putty and becomes one with your sneaker soles and Houston just keeps groaning for a little relief.
What I saw in the Gopher State at the General Assembly was a demonstration very similar to Houston’s summertime weather. There was a great deal of rumbling, some ominous signs, a lot of sound, and the same results as the Houston thunderclouds bring—continued groaning (in the Gopher State I also saw a statue of Mary Tyler Moore. They did not have a statue of Ted Knight. Or even Gavin MacLeod. I did not see a gopher, though).
The rumbling came in the form of the presentation of approximately 748 (or was it 749?) different motions, overtures, and hysterical sobbing pleas centered around “social justice.” “Social justice” occurs when Tiffany, that stuck up cheerleader who is always criticizing your hair, totally forgets her conditioner after showering after gym class and her hair like just completely frizzes out the rest of the day and even though she tries to hide it under a ball cap and pony tail, you totally know it is a mess under there and you can say, “nice hat, Tiff.” That’s some social justice for you.
No, "social justice" is an epidemic that is sweeping the nation, just like SARS. Or Bird Flu. Or maybe gingivitis. It is so severe that there were TWO committees to deal with all of the pressing social justice issues. There was a THIRD committee as well but they renamed it “Peacemaking” and no one was the wiser. All three committees sought to deal with the 593 horrific issues that CNN claims will cause the earth to spontaneously combust or crash into Venus or cause David Hasselhoff to remain popular.
But how is this “Social Justice” virus spread? “Do I need to wear a surgical mask to choir practice?” you may ask. How does social justice happen? The first way is through unclean toilet seats. “Always use the disposable seat covers, even at home” is something I say all the time. The other method is through that petri dish of church business: the committee. For example, lets look at a committee meeting at the Presbytery of The Mildewed Hills, where an individual who, while eating his morning bowl of Cocoa Puffs, caught about 5 minutes of a “CNN American Morning" report about the horrific working conditions endured by birthday rent-a-clowns, and he is appalled by the horrificness of it. Based on his now-extensive knowledge of the subject, he tells the committee that something should be done.
“I know we were talking about sending a group to Haiti to help earthquake victims find potable water, but for me the bigger issue is how we are going to solve the problem of the horrific clown working conditions!”
“Don’t you mean ‘the clown’s horrific working conditions’?”
“Whatever, We need to do something. It is horrific”
“We could hold a bake sale!”
“We can all wear ribbons in support. But really BIG ribbons, like a clown would wear!”
“I’VE GOT IT! We’ll draft a resolution condemning the horrific working conditions and pass it on to General Assembly! That should end this horrific problem once and for all!”
“Huzzah!” (It being a Presbyterian committee, there are a lot of old folks in attendance and they probably still say “Huzzah!” Or at least “That’s a whiz-bang idea, slugger!”)
So later that year, the resolution reaches one of the three GA committees and well over 3/4 of the committee members are wildly enthusiastic about making a statement about the horrific plight of the clowns and they approve it for plenary. Once there, the clown report is presented to the body of commissioners along with 748 other vitally important statements we as a church need to make if we are to save the earth from certain doom. The upside to all of this is that you get to hear a few really great speeches that supporters have obviously copped from their favorite comic books or sci-fi fantasy movies, like “The time has come for the people of this planet to rise as one against this horrific threat to our very existence! We must show the Gorgons, err... We must show Bank of America that we are not to be trifled with!” Wild applause follows and, often, a mock light saber battle in the aisle.
So I sat in the convention hall and listened to the sad litany of the world’s problems, which was a lot like watching Headline News without attractive anchors or commercials for Sham-Wow. But after the first 17 or so proclamations, I began to lose interest and drifted back to the compelling Tetris game I had on my laptop. And still the overtures kept coming—no one could possibly keep track, let alone understand the nuances and implications of any of these issues. I might as well have been voting for Major League Lacrosse All Star team or the finest lutefisk restaurant in Iceland (editor’s note: Ole’s Little Reykjavik Lutefisk Palace is excellent, but I don’t know if it is the best).
After this part of the docket has been approved, you wonder why we took time to vote at all, At face value, what sane person wouldn’t support a stand against violence or human rights violations or Paris Hilton? But in the perspective of history, these are the type of unfortunate situations that have always and will always be with us. There are no real solutions here at all—simply condemnations, calls for dialogues, letters to Congress, and threats to tell our dads. I don’t recall the passages about Jesus sending the Romans a manifesto demanding they disband their armies or end the practice of crucifixion.
Sometimes there are situations that simply must be addressed. But at this moment, is there anything resembling The Holocaust? Apartheid? The Rwandan Genocide? The 1976 Tampa Bay Buccaneers? Apartheid was essentially ended by the efforts of Bishop Tutu and the churches of South Africa uniting against an obvious injustice. I don’t believe capping credit card debt has the same gravitas as ending apartheid. (editors note: gravitas is excellent on bagels with a little cream cheese and some capers). Is the rest of the world looking at us Christians and saying “How can you let this happen? When will you do something about the profane language on television and in movies (editors note: this was an actual overture presented and passed this year)?
Also, by taking on these issues, is PC(USA) duplicating the efforts of hundreds of already existing secular or church-based organizations? Is it any church’s job to protect coastal wetlands (editors note: this was also an actual overture)? In 2012, will we discuss developing Pop Tarts as an alternative energy source or advocate releasing Joe Biden back into the wild? Is it wise to spend money on initiatives that are already in place and run by people who may have a better understanding of the situation rather than, say, people who may have read about it in USA Today (editors note: for you internet and video- only types, this is a “newspaper” found only in hotel lobbies).
You might say that when you say everything, you say nothing at all (this would also be a great country music lyric). “The Man” is not going to listen to a group who rails against EVERY social ill that blows down the road, including illnesses which blow down roads. Until the denomination is ready to throw its weight behind one or two issues rather than 57, “The Man” will never listen. Of course, even if the denomination stands united in a cause, there is little chance “The Man” will listen because why would he listen to an organization hemorrhaging members, heading for bankruptcy, continuing with bitter infights, and exerting little to no influence over today’s society. Also, they are not very sharp dressers.
In looking over some opinion pieces, analyses of these latest social justice pronouncements, and my fantasy football guidebook, I found a quote from John Leith reminding us that “the church has one unique thing which no one else can do—spread the Gospel.” The proclamation of the Gospel is a light to others. When the Gospel is spread, the light is spread and people, vocations, corporations, and even nations are elevated. If everyone would tackle that issue, then maybe instead of Houston-like weather, there would be a light sprinkle, leading to a big rainstorm, and perhaps a tropical depression of love and some groanings would be relieved.
What I saw in the Gopher State at the General Assembly was a demonstration very similar to Houston’s summertime weather. There was a great deal of rumbling, some ominous signs, a lot of sound, and the same results as the Houston thunderclouds bring—continued groaning (in the Gopher State I also saw a statue of Mary Tyler Moore. They did not have a statue of Ted Knight. Or even Gavin MacLeod. I did not see a gopher, though).
The rumbling came in the form of the presentation of approximately 748 (or was it 749?) different motions, overtures, and hysterical sobbing pleas centered around “social justice.” “Social justice” occurs when Tiffany, that stuck up cheerleader who is always criticizing your hair, totally forgets her conditioner after showering after gym class and her hair like just completely frizzes out the rest of the day and even though she tries to hide it under a ball cap and pony tail, you totally know it is a mess under there and you can say, “nice hat, Tiff.” That’s some social justice for you.
No, "social justice" is an epidemic that is sweeping the nation, just like SARS. Or Bird Flu. Or maybe gingivitis. It is so severe that there were TWO committees to deal with all of the pressing social justice issues. There was a THIRD committee as well but they renamed it “Peacemaking” and no one was the wiser. All three committees sought to deal with the 593 horrific issues that CNN claims will cause the earth to spontaneously combust or crash into Venus or cause David Hasselhoff to remain popular.
But how is this “Social Justice” virus spread? “Do I need to wear a surgical mask to choir practice?” you may ask. How does social justice happen? The first way is through unclean toilet seats. “Always use the disposable seat covers, even at home” is something I say all the time. The other method is through that petri dish of church business: the committee. For example, lets look at a committee meeting at the Presbytery of The Mildewed Hills, where an individual who, while eating his morning bowl of Cocoa Puffs, caught about 5 minutes of a “CNN American Morning" report about the horrific working conditions endured by birthday rent-a-clowns, and he is appalled by the horrificness of it. Based on his now-extensive knowledge of the subject, he tells the committee that something should be done.
“I know we were talking about sending a group to Haiti to help earthquake victims find potable water, but for me the bigger issue is how we are going to solve the problem of the horrific clown working conditions!”
“Don’t you mean ‘the clown’s horrific working conditions’?”
“Whatever, We need to do something. It is horrific”
“We could hold a bake sale!”
“We can all wear ribbons in support. But really BIG ribbons, like a clown would wear!”
“I’VE GOT IT! We’ll draft a resolution condemning the horrific working conditions and pass it on to General Assembly! That should end this horrific problem once and for all!”
“Huzzah!” (It being a Presbyterian committee, there are a lot of old folks in attendance and they probably still say “Huzzah!” Or at least “That’s a whiz-bang idea, slugger!”)
So later that year, the resolution reaches one of the three GA committees and well over 3/4 of the committee members are wildly enthusiastic about making a statement about the horrific plight of the clowns and they approve it for plenary. Once there, the clown report is presented to the body of commissioners along with 748 other vitally important statements we as a church need to make if we are to save the earth from certain doom. The upside to all of this is that you get to hear a few really great speeches that supporters have obviously copped from their favorite comic books or sci-fi fantasy movies, like “The time has come for the people of this planet to rise as one against this horrific threat to our very existence! We must show the Gorgons, err... We must show Bank of America that we are not to be trifled with!” Wild applause follows and, often, a mock light saber battle in the aisle.
So I sat in the convention hall and listened to the sad litany of the world’s problems, which was a lot like watching Headline News without attractive anchors or commercials for Sham-Wow. But after the first 17 or so proclamations, I began to lose interest and drifted back to the compelling Tetris game I had on my laptop. And still the overtures kept coming—no one could possibly keep track, let alone understand the nuances and implications of any of these issues. I might as well have been voting for Major League Lacrosse All Star team or the finest lutefisk restaurant in Iceland (editor’s note: Ole’s Little Reykjavik Lutefisk Palace is excellent, but I don’t know if it is the best).
After this part of the docket has been approved, you wonder why we took time to vote at all, At face value, what sane person wouldn’t support a stand against violence or human rights violations or Paris Hilton? But in the perspective of history, these are the type of unfortunate situations that have always and will always be with us. There are no real solutions here at all—simply condemnations, calls for dialogues, letters to Congress, and threats to tell our dads. I don’t recall the passages about Jesus sending the Romans a manifesto demanding they disband their armies or end the practice of crucifixion.
Sometimes there are situations that simply must be addressed. But at this moment, is there anything resembling The Holocaust? Apartheid? The Rwandan Genocide? The 1976 Tampa Bay Buccaneers? Apartheid was essentially ended by the efforts of Bishop Tutu and the churches of South Africa uniting against an obvious injustice. I don’t believe capping credit card debt has the same gravitas as ending apartheid. (editors note: gravitas is excellent on bagels with a little cream cheese and some capers). Is the rest of the world looking at us Christians and saying “How can you let this happen? When will you do something about the profane language on television and in movies (editors note: this was an actual overture presented and passed this year)?
Also, by taking on these issues, is PC(USA) duplicating the efforts of hundreds of already existing secular or church-based organizations? Is it any church’s job to protect coastal wetlands (editors note: this was also an actual overture)? In 2012, will we discuss developing Pop Tarts as an alternative energy source or advocate releasing Joe Biden back into the wild? Is it wise to spend money on initiatives that are already in place and run by people who may have a better understanding of the situation rather than, say, people who may have read about it in USA Today (editors note: for you internet and video- only types, this is a “newspaper” found only in hotel lobbies).
You might say that when you say everything, you say nothing at all (this would also be a great country music lyric). “The Man” is not going to listen to a group who rails against EVERY social ill that blows down the road, including illnesses which blow down roads. Until the denomination is ready to throw its weight behind one or two issues rather than 57, “The Man” will never listen. Of course, even if the denomination stands united in a cause, there is little chance “The Man” will listen because why would he listen to an organization hemorrhaging members, heading for bankruptcy, continuing with bitter infights, and exerting little to no influence over today’s society. Also, they are not very sharp dressers.
In looking over some opinion pieces, analyses of these latest social justice pronouncements, and my fantasy football guidebook, I found a quote from John Leith reminding us that “the church has one unique thing which no one else can do—spread the Gospel.” The proclamation of the Gospel is a light to others. When the Gospel is spread, the light is spread and people, vocations, corporations, and even nations are elevated. If everyone would tackle that issue, then maybe instead of Houston-like weather, there would be a light sprinkle, leading to a big rainstorm, and perhaps a tropical depression of love and some groanings would be relieved.
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