Wednesday, November 14, 2012

Dawn of the Consumer Foodie Zombies

Salman Rushdie, the grand literary tragi-comic chronicler of America's Romanesque decline, knows America, better than 98 percent of Americans.

As the social and economic structure of our Empire collapses under it's own weight, Americans are losing themselves in new expressions of consumer narcissism, which is their only way to redefine themselves and adjust to the chaos, as oppose to critically looking inside themselves while seeking progressive truths in the library, to make sense of "the mess" to quote Samuel Beckett.    

In the past, such expressions became known as keeping up with The (Dow) Joneses, but in the cowardly New America, keeping up with The Dow Joneses is impossible, because the Joneses   (The 1%)  now stay hidden behind castle walls figuring out how to spirit our money out of America before the final fall, when China cashes in her chips.  

So now, the consumer class ( under the label of foodies) competes over who can afford to dine at the next "in" four ring circus Disney-restaurant.  

A few weeks ago I went to one of these restaurants named Moto aka morocco
 for vastly different reasons. 

MoJoko, is prefabbed for the preprogramed "Foodie" as another avenue to exploit them.   It's been in the making for a while. Weaning children into total and hyper-speed consumption consumerism by replacing Bugs Bunny, Fat Albert, and Bullwinkle with commercial toy characters, like Transformers and My Little Pony (created to sale more crap) then Beverly Hills 20666, Sex in The City, and Seinfield, etc., creating generations of narcissistic consumer zombies.

Night of The Living Dead

In Night of The Living Dead, George Romero's zombies flocked to a suburban shopping mall.  The zombies ,who flock to MoJoko are women in plastic faces frozen with chemicals and tiny back dresses ( with French labels)  mass produced in China for 38 cents per., accompanying men in square toed shoes, shinny suits and enough hair jell for five women. 

If I knew how to text,  everyone was texting at Mojoko, probably letting their social media followers know that they had "arrived" ,  I would've texted a covert message with a picture from the movie The Matrix,  of the those bodies hooked up to hundreds of wires, so the machines could harvest their body heat and chemicals. Foodies are in the same predicament, they just don't know it.

Foodies are preprogramed, so corporations can preform simple marketing wizardry, for instance, taking a historical American food staple like bacon, rebranding it into plastic red, white, and blue hype, and VoilĂ ! A fortune is pumped out of the consumer foodie masses, running around like crazed monkeys drinking bacon soda cola and blowing bubbles with bacon flavored chewing gum.

Then there are the ubiquitous Facebook pictures of "food porn" at term more vile than "Foodie", which  I'm sure an industry of cameras has popped up to "support" this venture.

The servers at Mojoko are diligent and consciences, yet fear lurks in their eyes. They have to be smart to handle the chemicals pumped into the food and to use the various gases. Maybe they're down and out English Lit. Phd's who are just as horrified (   more so than I was) because due to our ravaged and beaten down economy, they have to work there. 

Anthony Fremont 

They looked like they were being held hostage by that creepy six-year-old "Anthony Fremont" kid from that Twilight Zone episode who holds the whole town hostage while a creating a helter skelter alchemy of cartoonish deadly terrors with his mind, similar to the nuclear explosion of food wrongness that I witnessed at Mojoko. 

Dim sum frozen by nitro? Oh, and every thing has nitro in it. I think I heard Donald Duck out back huffing.  It could have been a Saturday Night Live sketch called "Nitro it"

The Smoking Leather Glove
Seriously, a smoking leather glove delivered to your table. What kinda kinkster designed that? Frank Booth, the gas sipping psycho from Blue Velvet? And the accompanying chocolate glove looked like it belong to O. J. Simpson.

American Horror

And the other chef most be Dr. Arden from American Horror Story, because who else would serve orange goop out of a syringe? Well maybe Doctor Frankenstein himself.

Oh the horrors;

infused pasta with fried chicken via chemicals, they got it.

Any why would you destroy good wine in glasses infused by smokey chemicals from lasers?

What is this Israel?  America signed the Anti Chemical weapons convention treaty.

We needed to escape because after a while the gasses produce  a paranoid toxicity. We thought the doors had disappeared. The people were all strangely silent, MoJoko  is not a conversation starter, so we thought they were aliens, about to attack us.

At another bar, I noticed that my tongue stung, from the nitrogen.

file this under "not fun", unless you're a foodie


Anonymous said...

So I take it you will not be returning? Are you French?

Proud Foodie

Invisible Man said...

I'm actually planning on it, as soon as they serve chitlins.


p.s. nope not French