The Boob-Twerking Model and the Box of 2400 Donuts



In the USA, we don't care what foreigners find gross

I was admiring the rich variety of American culture yesterday by watching a video of the Boob-Twerking Model on Huffpo, and reflecting on the fact that, thanks to this pioneer in the field, here was another career trail being blazed in our country, so that one day young American parents could gaze at their newborn daughters and say through tender tears, "Maybe  she'll grow up be a boob-twerking model," when I came across this bit of anti-American calumny on the sidebar:

                               17 'ALL AMERICAN' FOODS THAT FOREIGNERS FIND GROSS

My first thought was, as any natural American's should be, who cares what foreigners find gross? We find hairy-backed fat guys in Speedos gross, but foreign countries keep producing them anyway, along with comically tiny cars, overpriced vodka and long sad movies with subtitles. Do we Americans complain? Only if we go over there to one of their rocky beaches, have to buy call drinks because it's a first date, or go through the wrong door at the Metroplex. We don't make lists of gross foreign things because, frankly, who has the time?

Then I click on the link, and find that it is nothing but a bunch of cheap shots by anonymous Eurotrash food critics. Cheese Whiz tops the list, even though most Americans don't even regard Cheese Whiz as a food but as an annoying yellow substance you sometimes get in your hair when you are drunk. The same for Velveeta, which is merely Cheese Whiz solidified into a rectangular cuboid that quivers slightly when disturbed, making it an excellent detector of moderate earthquakes. Which is what I use it for.

They also list both Red Vines and Twizzlers, even though they are practically the same thing. Obviously these Old World slanderers had trouble getting up to 17. They stick grits and biscuits and gravy on the list, even though these are regional items not always served in much of these United States.

They leave off Hot Pockets, the quintessentially gross microwaveable glop snack that has to be cooked inside its special cardboard mirror or else the crust comes out virtually the same texture as the contents. Why did these Continental food snobs give Hot Pockets a pass? It is because French gourmands secretly adore Hot Pockets. Often, if you are seated at a Michelin star-rated restaurant in France, you will overhear some bon vivant, bloated with truffles and snails, murmuring "Non, non canard à l'orange avec des chapons et pommes de terre à la crème aujourd'hui. Apportez-moi un Pocket chaud. Avec un grand verre de Gatorade.*

I'm sure there are crappy restaurants in Europe, where the schnitzel is dry and the frog legs are stringy, although when I was there I didn't find any. The reason America has a reputation for terrible food is—one word--signage. If you want something fried in cheap oil, oozing grease and covered with mundane cheese, all you have to do is look for a sign that says Sonic or TGIFridays. Here you don't have to search out some anonymous diner that serves a BLT with the palest of lettuce on the frailest of white bread and whose pies’ crust tastes like particle board, although America is full of such establishments. You can, if you are an adventurer. Or you can merely look for that neon that says Olive Garden floating at the corner of the mall.

Sure, sometimes we eat bad, but we always eat big. Take this box of 2,400 donuts. If a foreigner wanted 2,400 donuts, he'd just buy them a dozen at a time, and be stuck with 200 empty boxes when he finished his petit déjeuner, but here in the USA we have a special container for those moments when 2,399 donuts just aren't enough.

So I say that these foreign snots that merely found 17 gross American foods weren't working nearly hard enough. From the frozen breaded codfish of Maine to the mystery meat chilis of Texas to the cold tamales of San Diego, America abounds with food items that we take one bite of and think "Well, I paid for it, so I'd better eat it."

I seem to have wandered a bit here from my original point and, as usual, am having a tough time wrapping this up as a result. Screw it. I'm getting something to eat.

*"No, no duck in orange sauce with capons and creamed potatoes today. Bring me a Hot Pocket. With a big glass of Gatorade."

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