Dear Amazon.com Black Friday Deals Department,
I know you want to keep us in suspense regarding your upcoming deals, but trust me when I say that there is no need for your treasure chest and question mark when they are paired with "hints" that are clearly references to seasons of Friends. Please try again.
In recent Four Loko news, my friends and I have been expressing our views to the press. Two friends contributed to this article, while I submitted a question that got posted in this chat.
My question concerned the unlikelihood that the people getting sick after drinking Four Loko were ONLY drinking Four Loko. If there's any constant in the world, it's that college students are idiots (oddly, this point got cut out of my question before publication). They're idiots who make horrible decisions to get as drunk as they can as fast and as cheap as they can. This means drinking eight cans of Natty Light in an hour. It means making a rum and coke that's 3/4 rum. It means being the primary buyers of Everclear. And it means mixing vodka with their Four Loko.
What's lost here is that just because some aren't drinking Four Loko responsibly doesn't mean they can't. And it doesn't mean that they'll drink anything else responsibly, either.
And that is not the government's responsibility nor is it the company's fault.
I was going to write a post about the ridiculousness that is the upcoming nationwide Four Loko ban, but I think this just about sums it up:
"The FDA is Set to Ban Four Loko in a Defeat of Capitalism and Freedom"
Disclaimer: I've never tried Four Loko, and the closest I've ever come to seeing it in action was when I witnessed some high schoolers shoplifting a case from 7-11 last year. Of course, I do intend to try it before Prohibition sets in, because the government has made it unbelievably attractive.
I went out to dinner last night for a friend's birthday. She was celebrating her XXX birthday, an important lesson to us all that roman numerals can be used for more than stealing back your town's lemon tree. She chose one of our kickball bars for dinner, which may seem like a surprising move to some. That's understandable, as kickball bars are usually dive bars that smell like heavy amounts of bleach on a good day and beer-soaked, vomit-encrusted bad decisions on a bad day. This one, though, has surprisingly good food on the menu, and amazing food if you're lucky enough to be offered something off the menu.
For our party last night, the owner made us a six-course feast that was one of the best meals of my life. For hors d'oeuvres we had fried brussel sprouts, smoked salmon, prosciutto, and chorizo. The first course was a seafood bisque with scallops and shrimp, followed by a cabbage and radish salad with pupusas. For the third course, we had halibut with a spinach reduction and tabbouleh. The next courses were osso buco so tender the marrow could be eaten like soup, and then a rib eye with fried potatoes. Finally, there was a chocolate soufflé for dessert.
Now, I've never run a marathon. But I think that my experience last night was as long, difficult, and ultimately rewarding as one, if not more so. (This point was proven when our resident marathoner could not finish the rib eye, though perhaps she had begun her sprint to the end too soon when she cheered enthusiastically for the mass consumption of baby cow) And more exciting than the wonderful feeling in my stomach was the reminder that there is damn good cooking in this city, and not necessarily in the most recognized places.
MTV’s The Situation recently released his long-awaited opus entitled Here’s the Situation: A Guide to Creeping on Chicks, Avoiding Grenades, and Getting in Your GTL on the Jersey Shore. In the coming days, I’ll post what I’m sure will be one of thousands of academic reviews.
Introduction
The book opens, as so many great works do, with a quotation from another famous Italian. The lines chosen from Marcus Aurelius’ Meditations remind us of our own fleeting existence in this world, an existence that will most likely be forgotten by all in 100 years time. Will The Situation, like Aurelius himself, avoid such a fate? Will Here’s the Situation be recognized as one of the greatest collection of thoughts of our time? Will my first edition be worth millions one day? The Situation has given himself 133 pages to attain immortality.
Before beginning the main body of his work, Sitch (if I may be so cavalier as to use such an informal nickname in this review) addresses the first of what I’m sure will be many pressing issues in the Italian-American community: the use of the word “guido.” While he admits that it is not a word he employs frequently, he also champions the right his fellow Italians to reclaim the word, much like the GLBTQ community has reclaimed “queer.” In fact, he challenges Irish-Americans to find their own terminology to rally around by addressing this section to “Freckles McGee.” By doing so, he reminds the Irish of the racism they faced decades ago, and challenges their belief that they have been truly accepted as part of White society.
While he recognizes that guido can be used in a derogatory fashion, he rejects the idea that it is, by its nature, an insult. It is a word that is part of Italian-Americans themselves, representative of their lifestyle and heritage. Sitch argues that the spirit of guido goes back to youth, “To the days prehistoric kindergarten when we all thought the tooth fairy was alive.” (p. X) This quote raises fascinating questions: Those days of kindergarten, what made them “prehistoric”? Is The Situation making a subtle point about the loss of innocence? Was learning of the tooth fairy’s death so traumatizing for him that it marked the birth of his pessimistic view of life evidenced by the quotation that opened the book? Was the realization that such magic was not real so damaging to young Sitch that it led him down a path that resulted in the methodical training regimen he employs today? Having learned of the mortality of childhood figures, he perhaps set out to avoid his own mortality as long as possible.
Such an argument may seem farfetched, but let me add an additional piece of evidence. In the season two episode “Sleeping with the Enemy,” The Situation says the following regarding the unhealthy Sammi-Ronnie relationship: “And, uh, ya know, she just took it and smiled. Just like when you’re little and you want to believe Santa Claus is alive. F*ckin’ Santa Claus is dead.” Clearly, the wound is still raw for The Situation. He wonders why everyone won’t wake up and realize that Santa Claus, the Tooth Fairy, and (we assume) the Easter Bunny are dead. Why do we cling to these figures? Are we afraid to see how the world really is? Only the Sitch knows that the truth will lead to our empowerment.
Next: The G in GTL
Last Saturday, I walked into the YMCA in downtown DC to see that the TV was set to Al Jazeera, as part of Obama's plan to make sure that's the only channel received by schools, churches, and community centers. I texted YOC, since she majored in terrorist studies, to learn that she had spent the morning at a Veteran's Day parade in...Florida, I think? (Can't keep up...somewhere in the South) Anyway, a parade that featured Shriners and assorted corporate mascots.
I had no idea towns still had parades for Veteran's Day, although I suppose we'll take any chance to honor our troops and McDonalds.
If that story doesn't summarize America, then I don't know what does.
