politics – Hammared

We live in a tumultuous time right now. There is the ever-present war with Iran. The upcoming presidential election between a slew of democratic maybes and a man so polarizing that opinions of him are questions on dating profiles. It’s honestly a little scary. I have friends who make jokes about the draft all the time. It’s pretty much constant. The distress between political parties. The distress between people of different beliefs. It’s honestly too much. However, in this dark time, there is a beacon of hope who can save us from our impending geopolitical and civil doom. There is one person who can elevate the fear of the masses and protect us from the evils that are approaching us. That man is the mayor of Flavor Town, Guy Fieri.

Let’s be real America, Guy Fieri represents everything this country stands for. The little Mom and Pop businesses who work tirelessly to provide for their families and their communities. We all love the story of the little person rising to the top, becoming a beacon for those around them and Guy Fieri brings these great Americans to the forefront. He’s someone who both democrats and republicans can rally around. Though both parties may argue about the semantics, we all want the same thing. A great leader to lead us through these uncertain times. And my friends, I can tell you Guy Fieri is that man. Oh no Iran is pissed, here have this barbecue sauce seasoned with golpar from an elderly couple from Asheville. The man would use food to dissolve political conflict. And don’t tell me the man couldn’t debate with global leaders. You’re seriously telling me that a small diner in Indiana doesn’t want their secret recipe for chili BROADCASTED on national television. Honestly, I don’t know, but I can tell you who convinced them to spill the beans. GUY FUCKING FIERI.

He’s the Mayor of Flavor Town and think about the social importance that sharing a meal has on our society. Yeah you and your aunt may not see eye-to-eye on health care, but after a full stomach of Guy’s famous Cajun fried turkey you’ll agree about a suitable defense budget. Yes, sometimes it can be stressful breaking bread with someone you disagree with. I mean people break up with each other over meals. But a good meal can settle the mood and can put even the most conflicted of lovers on the same page for an evening. So now imagine what a man who knows his way around food and pushes the goals of the common man could do for this country. Republicans and democrats. Trumpers and Bernie bros sharing a sloppy Joe for the common good of the country. People say The Rock 2020, but I’m telling you Guy Fieri 2020 is the move.

Lets also think about it from the most superficial standpoint that a leader can have, their looks. If my next reason doesn’t convince you, then I have failed with this blog. Frosted tips. Guy Fieri is the only man in 2020 who can pull off frosted tips. That’s right I said it. Thirty years after its boom in popularity, Guy is still rocking the tips. That my friends is confidence. That’s what people want in a leader. A person who can set aside preconceived notions of antiquated ideas. Literally the only man who can rock a shirt with flames on it. You tell me the supreme leader of Iran wouldn’t be down to peace talks with a man who can rock the shit out of frosted tips while also know the best halal places on the east coast.

In honor of Donald Trump’s impending inauguration, I thought I would share a story with the world. I’ve struggled with finding an outlet for this post for a while now. At first I thought of posting it on social media, but I decided against such a course due to my disdain for elongated Facebook posts and other ilk of its kind. I toyed with writing a novel, perhaps some essays I have in queue, but there’s no way this story would be published in time. Then it dawned on me a blog. So here you go world, the greatest example of misinformed voting.

It’s November ninth, the day after the election and for some it is a day of mourning. However, for one suburban sorority all-star in particular, it was an abrupt eye-opener to the world in front of her.

I’m waiting in line at Starbucks doing nothing spectacular, when I hear what sounds like someone crying. I’m not a hundred percent sure what’s going on, so I quickly glance over my shoulder to see two girls in their early twenties sitting approximately three feet to my left: what happened next blew my mind.

“I didn’t know he wanted to build a wall!” Girl one weakly whimpered to her consoling friend. “I thought he wanted to build a mall!”

My thought process upon hearing this: “Is she serious?…… Holy shit she is! This is fucking awesome! Judging by the Greek letters on her shirt she’s currently in a sorority. So that means that she’s in college. But to misconstrue such a crucial point of Trump’s platform is huge. I know sorority girls have a ditsy stereotype, but this takes it to another level.” So doing what any person would do, I stepped out of line, grabbed a table within earshot, and was in for a fucking show.

“Sarah, it’s okay. Girl, anybody could have made that mistake. I mean like mall and wall sound soooooo similar. No one is going to judge you.” Girl, who I later learn is named Steph, whispered while rubbing Sarah’s back.

“I’m just so stupid! I knew it sounded too good to be true. Like a Mall of America in every city in America just isn’t even financially feasible! (The fuck are you talking about? This is when reason kicks in?) Do you know what a mall food court stands for Stephanie? Do you?!”

Stephanie, the girl comforting Sarah, just looked confused and who could blame her? The analogy that Sarah was about to throw out would dumbfound anyone. Who could have predicted that a girl who, I kid you not, voted for a presidential candidate because she thought he was going to build a mall, would delve deep into the social constructs of a mall food court.

“Inclusion Steph! It stands for inclusion! I mean you have like a Chinese place, near a Mexican restaurant, right next to a Wendy’s!” Sarah yelled before bursting into a fit of tears. “America is not a melting pot nor a salad bowl Steph, it’s a mall food court!”

I snorted when I heard this. This was the most outlandish metaphor I had ever heard describing America’s social landscape. However, aware that I may have compromised my eavesdropping, I checked my six to make sure I hadn’t attracted any attention. I was good.

“Uhhh” went Stephanie in the single most confused tone I’ve ever heard.

“See you don’t understand! The Chinese place, the Mexican restaurant, and the Wendy’s are then all owned by some Eastern European man who chortles at the cash he’s making on the overpriced garbage. Do you see it Steph, do you”?!

Now my mouth is wide open. This was gold. Pure, fucking Conquistador pillage the Aztec Empire gold.

“Everyone loves food courts! That’s what! It’s the Barn Party; everyone puts aside their differences and gets lit. But instead of taking shots, they’re eating tots Steph.” Sarah is low key getting hysteric now. “I just wanted them to eat tots Steph. Freaking freedom tots that would have quelled the social unrest of our great nation.”

Steph’s eyes are wide open now scanning the Starbucks, clearly mortified by her sorority sister’s meltdown. Still, I give her props for not bailing on her friend and continuing to comfort Sarah. “Girl you’re stressed, distressed, and depressed. Let’s get margs and unwind.”

And it was over. My exposé into the local food court was over. Margaritas had stolen the highlight of my week and there was nothing I could do about it. Here an un-informed, yet oddly intelligent person systematically deconstructed the relationship of a food court. I sat in my seat pondering the events that had just occurred and was astounded.