Fork me? No Fork you!
May the Fork be with you, always.
What the fork?
How about no fork at all.
Take a look at this picture.
That’s Mr. Trump eating Kentucky Fried Chicken. Maybe it’s an appeal to the southern crowd in a couple of swing states that he needs to get elected. In fact, I had some Kentucky Fried Chicken the other day. It’s good. It’s addcitive.
Did you ever see the movie So I Married An Axe Murderer with Mike Myers (Austin Powers, Wayne’s World)?
It’s hilarious. Well-written. Myers plays Charlie MacKenzie, a first generation American from a Scottish family who happens to fall in love with a woman who works as a butcher whose sister literally is committing a string of murders with an ax that are described with great detail in tabloids which Myers movie mother reads all of the time and takes for gospel.
Myers also plays Charlie’s father, Stuart MacKenzie, complete with a Scottish accent. You will notice it because it is the same accent he used for Shrek. The characters have this discussion about powerful people and Colonel Sanders comes into the conversation.
Stuart Mackenzie: Well, it’s a well known fact, Sonny Jim, that there’s a secret society of the five wealthiest people in the world, known as The Pentavirate, who run everything in the world, including the newspapers, and meet tri-annually at a secret country mansion in Colorado, known as The Meadows.
Tony Giardino: So who’s in this Pentavirate?
Stuart Mackenzie: The Queen, The Vatican, The Gettys, The Rothschilds, *and* Colonel Sanders before he went tits up. Oh, I hated the Colonel with is wee *beady* eyes, and that smug look on his face. “Oh, you’re gonna buy my chicken! Ohhhhh!”
Charlie Mackenzie: Dad, how can you hate “The Colonel”?
Stuart Mackenzie: Because he puts an addictive chemical in his chicken that makes ya crave it fortnightly, smartass!
The scene where Stuart talks about his youngest son’s head size is worth the money for renting the movie alone.
Back to chicken. KFC is addictive and there is Donald Trump eating it.
WITH A FORK.
I understand that KFC has “sporks”, but eat the damn fried chicken with your hands. Why? Because that’s American!
Here’s another situation where Trump ate something meant to be consumed straight from your hands – pizza.
That’s right, New York Pizza. HUGE, I mean YUGE slices they serve up in New York.
Now, I am a native Georgian and call NC home. Even I know to eat New York pizza with your hands. You can fold it over or you hold the crust and bend the slice into itself. But to eat it with a fork? That doesn’t communicate “I know the Average American” to me.
Maybe it is a small detail, but there are reasons we have large amounts of napkins in certain eating establishments. In fact, there are lots of places that literally have rolls of paper towels on the tables because you are expected to get messy. Think wings, chicken, large burgers, donut shops, and any establishment that might have children or serve fries.
Pizza places are like that as well. Eat your slice with your hands if you want to make Americans think you are one of them. (By the way, for your Winston-Salem people, Burke Street Pizza is the best.)
So, get the grease on your hands Donald. We do.
Furthermore, Trump has made it a habit to show himself eating as if we expected that he did something different to provide himself sustenance like unicorn blood.
Here’s that famous “I Love Hispanics” Cinco de Mayo picture with a taco salad made in Trump’s own office building.
Smile? Check. Thumbs up? Check. Blue suit? Check. White shirt? Check. Red tie? Check. Russian, I mean American Flag on lapel? Check.