I'm lovin' it?

I am starting to love my late-night trips to McDonalds. This is quite ironic because I absolutely abhor McDonalds and everything it stands for: grossly inhumane treatment of animals and livestock, the homogenization of indigenous cultures around the globe, the lowering of standards of food quality, and the general generic atmosphere that this evil corporation has inspired. There’s a reason sociologists refer to “The McDonaldsization of America” so often.

That being said, when the sun goes down and I start to come alive, I am drawn to this brightly lit palace of convenience, almost weekly. I have perfectly good hamburgers and buns at home that could be thawed, grilled, and prepared in less time than it would take to drive to the Alcoa McD’s and back. Still, I cannot resist the call of the communal feeding trough.

I think it’s a manifestation of the hunter-gatherer instinct. Cooking is for the women-folk (by “women” I’m speaking of gender, not sex). I’d rather go out and hunt down the wild game and its flamboyant packaging. Even if this means exchanging the money I made by serving people food at another restaurant, it still makes me feel like I’ve earned my keep, my place at the fire. Bringing people food and drink so that they’ll give me money so that I can pay other people to bring me food and drink makes me feel a part of the circle of life in our service-industry American society.

So, late at night, my stomach guides me to the temples of wisdom, and I am grateful. Still, McDonalds sucks, and you shouldn’t eat there.