Luckily, I had the latest episode of Man vs. Food waiting for me on the DVR, giving me a minimum of 20 minutes of quality thoughtlessness. I have to admit, I love Man vs. Food. There’s probably no arguing that it one of those “guilty pleasure” shows, and that if the aliens are currently attempting to evaluate our society based on TV signals we’re sending into space, we can probably expect to be rounded up for intergalactic zoos any minute.
So, yes, I know it’s not exactly the pinnacle of human culture. I mean, come on, it’s based on a somewhat-larger-than-average guy trying to shove excessively large or excessively spicy foods into his pie hole as quickly as possible, often within a time limit. If he succeeds, there’s usually a Wall of Fame to post his picture on with the food in question. Oh, and if he’s lucky, a T-Shirt.
I guess to this point, it doesn’t sound much like I’m a very big fan of the show. But trust me, I so am. All that whining about evolution and the sad state of a society that encourages such foolishness? Yeah, that’s all sour grapes. Most nights I watch the show, I’m thinking to myself, Damn, that’s a sweet job. I am sooooo jealous. Yes, that’s right; I got the Man vs. Food envy.
Why the MvF jealousy? Obviously because I could *so* do that job better. Dude couldn’t eat those 12 brisket sliders last night? Amateur. Aww…couldn’t force down those last two bites of that monstrous omelet? Pansy, go put your skirt on. Yeah, yeah, so you ate 6 of the spiciest wings “ever conceived by man” and then drank nothing for 30 minutes. Woopee. It was probably all ketchup-y anyway. I bet my four-year old daughter could eat that, and she doesn’t like “‘picy food”. I could eat the Ironman Breakfast, the Hottest Wings ever, and Burger of Infinite Proportions. How come he gets paid to pig out and I’ve got to work for a living?
Ok, so, I couldn’t. I admit it. The dude’s whacked. They could drop a side of beef on a banquet table, give him a plastic fork, a Swiss Army knife, and a beer, and tell him he had 2 hours to eat the red parts. An hour and 40 minutes later, he’d be using a rib bone to clean his teeth while flies scoured the carcass in disappointment, unable to find some little morsel of remaining meaty goodness.
And here’s the other thing: I’m a middle aged dude with four kids. A diet that includes 5 lbs of ground beef and most of the cheese produced in Wisconsin last year per meal is probably not going to go to well with my cardiovascular system. I like my heart in one piece, unobstructed. And, sure, I probably could eat that Tower of Meatloaf, but I’m betting decent health insurance would be hard to come by, Obama-care or not.
I guess maybe I’ll just stick to moderate over-eating like the rest of America. It’s worked for all of us so far, right?