Putting On the Corporate Smile

You know the times are changing when McDonald's, purveyors of all things saturated and caloric, say they've entered into the fight against obesity. Yes, the folks who have been selling more happy meals and Big Macs over the years than America sells bullets are very concerned that your waistline is expanding beyond the orbit of Jupiter, and have pledged to stop thrusting supersized fries in your face while leading you in a round of jumping jacks as they make your change and share that "free smile" that you never see.

In other news, local heroin dealers have taken to offering free needle exchanges with every extra gram purchased.

Yes, the corporate responsibility wave has finally reached the shores of the McDonald's head office. The powers that be can see what's coming, and are trying a little proactive adjustment before the lawsuits and governmental edicts come down on them like a tsunami. If they're not careful, they'll soon be paying out settlements to anyone over two hundred pounds who can produce at least three Quarter Pounder receipts, and one suspects the marketing department is a little worried over the optics of a bloated, clogged heart on the cover of every box.

That or a few snapshots of some colon polyps under the big "M," which I doubt the ad guys ever intended to conjure up words like "malignancy."

Well, don't discount it from happening. Smokers have had to look at diseased hearts, charred lungs, and cancerous tumours for years, in full colour, each and every time they go for a cigarette. And while drinkers haven't been subjected to the sight of a dissected, corroded chunk of liver on every bottle of bourbon they buy, they do have to put up with radio and TV ads by beer and liquor producers urging them to "drink responsibly."

As if beer with ten percent alcohol is produced for the "responsible drinker."

What is amusing to every chain smoker and alcoholic on the planet is that others around them, from disapproving neighbours to federal legislators, think that they don't know it's bad for them. Yes, the coughing, the gum disease, the ulcers, the shakes, the pounding head and nights at the toilet bowl; sure signs of vitality they are.

Pass me another smoke; I haven't had my vitamin C today.

So it's time for fat people to be told that eating two Crispy Chickens, three supersized fries and four shakes is not the path to a career as a Parisian runway model, unless you take up bulimia and the serious ingestion of amphetamines. It's time to pretend that a few salads covered in nuts and lard-laden dressing is a healthy option, and convince the employees that what they sell to customers is about as harmless as a hit of cocaine when used in moderation.

It's time for another corporation to pretend to care, to fake concern, and act like you, the customer, are more than just a figure in their monthly sales report. That's all very nice, but the only way for McDonald's to actually do something about improving the health of their customers is to either close their doors or switch over to a macrobiotic menu list that will have the idea of fast food go the way of the Edsel.

Well quite frankly, I don't want to wait two hours for a lettuce and nut salad with bean curd dip, and sprouts on the side. Sometimes I want a Filet-O-Fish and fries, I want it now, and screw the smile. I don't care that the person next to me is five hundred pounds, and is about to have a coronary. I'm sure they know it as well as I do, and are in just as much of a rush. And I don't want McDonald's worrying about my LDL and triglyceride count. I am a figure in their bottom line, and I'm more than bloody happy to add to it as long as they stop pretending that what they're selling is good for me.

I know it's bad! Why do you think I like it? And until it's banned along with the other half-dozen vices I like to indulge in on a regular basis that have my doctor experiencing far more heart palpitations than I, I'm going to keep on indulging, and so are a whole lot of other people. Hell, if they made it illegal I'd be combing back alleys for an illicit french fry pusher who hands out free salt with every hit.

At least pushers are honest about what they sell...and they don't make you do jumping jacks first.