Thursday, May 14, 2020

Who fried and made you king?


Despite what the 24-hour-a-day pundits say, the United States of America is still a republic. A never-ending work-in-progress, but nonetheless a representative democracy. A nation of laws and people. Of voting and apathy. There was much to fight over at the beginning. Tea, coffee, and other morning beverages ignored by the whimsical historical record. Mostly though, revolutionary Americans were attempting to relieve themselves of the British monarchy. Winning the war was a necessary first step, but without continued vigilance, we’d be right back where we started.

This is America, and yet, references to royalty are everywhere.

I could list thousands of examples from the county I choose to reside in and butterflies, to a weirdly popular series on Netflix, but I won’t do that. This is not the time for raw accounting. The moment for an itemized list of regal nonsense has come and gone. Jefferson already spent a good portion of his Declaration on just this subject. But in it he left one out. He couldn’t possibly know what I know now. But I know and somewhere, somehow, he knows, too.

The Burger King. He’s worshipped like a God in many parts of this wild country. We sacrifice to appease him, pray to please him, and ask forgiveness just to tease him. But who clothed him with this amount of power? The man owns a sepulcher. Who owns a sepulcher in 2020? Burgers are and always will be quintessentially American and as such, they deserve a democratic representative who speaks to our shared values as citizens. Apparently, feudalism is alive and well along rest areas and service roads across this great nation. He wears a gilded crown of ground chuck, a flowing robe of raw meat and aims to spread his grilled kingdom globally. Some towns erect huge statues of this most illustrious Sirloin Sovereign. A man who’s standing has risen along with the collective cholesterol of the populace.  

There aren’t many things that move me to take a stand. As the sun sets on monarchies all over the world, many hungry folks are forgetting what makes us American.

I’m calling for a non-violent revolution. A gently charbroiled coup that will quickly lead to the Burger King’s total and peaceful abdication. He had a great run, but it’s time to turn the patty over and start anew. What is a man with such a specific set of qualifications to do after his life’s work is taken from him? Follow the lead of Harry and head out to La La Land. No place on earth better embraces the phony, fictitious and façade-loving than Los Angeles. Vegas is too obvious a choice. But in Hollywood, he’ll still be considered king.

Burger President may be too lofty. So how about Burger Comptroller?  

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