I admit it -- there are times when the call of junk food is almost too great to resist. Lately, I have been battling the junk food demons over McDonald's—especially the fries. There are three McDonald's within easy driving distance of my house. When Mrs. Brown leaves for work in the evening, I can hear the diabolical melody of the Golden Arches wafting across the subdivisions and strip malls:
"Lincoln...come to us, Lincoln...Quarter Pounder with Cheese...large fries...treat yourself... treat yourself. Have two; they're cheap, and so, so good."
Like Odysseus, I have had the dogs tie me to the center post of the house to keep me from heeding the siren song and careening wildly to the restaurant to gorge myself on processed cheese, suspicious meat, and enough grease to keep an Abrams tank in good working order.
KFC has the same effect on me. I have fond memories of my grandfather insisting that the entire family get together for every single holiday, and at least for the summer celebrations, there were buckets and buckets of KFC. KFC, while incredibly unhealthy, is an American icon. For better or worse, it has been a part of American celebrations and gatherings for decades. And while I know that a diet of WD-40 and rock salt is probably better for my health than a bucket of Original Recipe, it flat-out tastes good. As a friend once said to me, "There's nothing like it, and sometimes, you just gotta have it." And I would have agreed.
Until this:
What the hell did we just watch? I have no idea, but the description for the video reads:
Do you find yourself lost in the woods of modern life?
Fear not, for salvation in sauce is near.
Trust in the thumping sound of the golden egg.
Trust in the liquid gold elixir.
Trust in the divine dunk.
And whisper the sacred words "All Hail Gravy."
Because there’s some things we can still believe in.
Believe In Chicken.
Believe in chicken? I believe I'll be eating elsewhere from here on out. Now, eating KFC is not an occasional guilty pleasure. At this point, I am afraid that the demon Pazuzu may be lurking in my bucket between the mashed potatoes and biscuits. Granted, this ad was produced in and for the UK, and given what is going on over there right now, God only knows what they were thinking. Maybe it was a tribute to Britain's pagan roots in which people worshipped spirits in trees and sacrificed their neighbors. Still, one need not be an uptight church lady to see the pagan imagery and mockery of the sacraments of baptism and the Eucharist. Besides, even if the creators did not intend to insult Christianity or traditional values, the whole thing is weird as hell. And distasteful in more ways than one.
If whoever dreamed up this strangeness was taking a jab at Christianity, I am sure they thought of it as a light-hearted jape. Lighten up, you sanctimonious wanna-be saints; can't you take a joke? If that is indeed the case, it might say as much about Christians as it does about the crew of people who thought this was a good idea. After all, if the Church of England (or churches in the U.S., for that matter) can't be bothered to take itself seriously, why should anyone else?
But even if Christians remain faithful, the intent is not to be missed. The ad, which is an LSD-induced joke, is also a subtle shove of the Overton Window. The implied message is not just "buy our crappy chicken." Actually, I'm not sure that was the message at all. More to the point, the message was that there is nothing that can or should be held sacred, and everything can be mocked. And if you disagree, well, shut up, you puritanical, eurocentric, Christofascist, islamo/homo/transphobe. Shut up and learn to laugh at yourself. And whatever else you dare to value. Relax, normies. Of course, at some point, everything becomes meaningless, except whatever whoever is in control of your screen tells you to value.
It's a dumb ad and seemingly a trifle in the history of stupid marketing campaigns. But remember, it took a river millions of years to erode enough soil and rock to create the Grand Canyon. But eventually, it got there.
