DRIVEL: Opinions and Reviews copywriter toronto


Murkin Theology:
The all-you-can-eat buffet as an altar of worship

It's not even about grease and greed and slimy compulsion.  It just looks that way because the currency being traded, the symbol being offered happens to be food.  And the adherents to the faith truly believe that it's always possible that all the planet's food could be used up before dinner tomorrow and so we'd better eat a coupla days worth right dang now.

It looks like it's about love of breaded deep-fry, but it ain't.

There's a reason the wide-loads haul their red-flagged butts over for a plate of all-you-can-eat whateveritiswhocares: It's that the plate, uncramped by the concept of 'portion' [witness plates loaded in geological layers] is their public prayer ritual.  It's their way of expressing that their souls resonate with a chorus of angels singing,  "What if someone shoots you before you get back up fer seconds? Ya better dang well dig in right now!"

And they return from the altar of bottomless bounty to shovel down their blessings; calm or elated or wheezing very slightly.

I did a PhD thesis in Murkinology, 1992-2000; an eight year program that’s leading to a Nobel for the development of a system of classification for both portion size and definition of portion, currently given as "anything less than the whole animal. "

Think about it:  If the bottomlessness, the unconditional giving, were offered in another symbolic medium, not food but hardware or bedding, you can imagine the chaos.  So it can only be offered in a self-limiting way, with the worshipper’s tolerance for bingeing, illness, or death, interpreted as the fair boundaries around the whole promotional concept of AllYouCanEat.  [AYCE, as they call it at the foodchain’s head office. ]

The lumpen could worship elsewhere, like at an all-you-can-drink boozery, for example.  But that would be WAY unfair, being that the boundaries start to get awfully tight when the substance gets stronger.  Breaded shrimp take a long time to result in death;  Jack Daniels can get the job done before sundown.

So for some reason, the metaphor for omniscient blessing, in Murkin theology, is the all-you-can-eat altar/buffet.  The supplicants arrive, are organized, orderly, lined up for communion.  The sneeze-guard/veil is in place over the host.  The offering has been given the cashier.  The host wafer has miraculously morphed from a little dry crunchy symbol into a full-fledged, shiny-jowled blessathon—and the congregants are either giggly with glee or determined and dogged and compelled to feast unconditionally until they hurt and have to lie down for a spell.

And you know, big bunches of them can't afford not to do this.  They so desperately need to feel that something is bottomless and unconditional that they'll chow down on any groceries within a sniffing radius, to affirm their faith.  Obesity is the national spiritual malaise, the immune deficiency of the soul, which has lost its immunity to fraud, weakened as it is by disuse and marketing theory and Pop-tarts™ and the Olsen twins.

These swollen, buffet-worshipping adults bear a strong resemblance to [ooo have you noticed?. . .quick, think!!.]…TODDLERS. Yup, instead of saffron robes or shaved heads that show their faith, they've morphed back into the body proportions that once accompanied their certainty that someone trustworthy was in charge.  And all they know is that it just feels right, durn it.  Feels good.  The way things should be.

And they're right.

No one should feel so constantly threatened and starved by the stinginess of existence.  We could shut down every AllYouCanEat buffet in Murka if we replaced them with all-you-can-smile flirting buffets.  Imagine lining up and standing in front of a row of sacred flatterers who would compliment your eyes on the first trip, your smile on the next, and so on.  Keep on coming back until it’s time for the dessert table – a sweetness-filled encounter with someone who says.  “You’re just swell and yummy the way you are.  Go home now and turn off the TV and try to adjust to being sane..”

A teaspoon of unconditional love for the most lumpen would do wonders.  Eventually, they have to learn what the real event IS, that they're ritually rehearsing for, over and over, by scarfing down metaphorical abundance.

Murkin worshippers deserve something better.

[All cartoons from]



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