Excuses, excuses.
Feb 2, 13:39
I always feel a little dirty going to McDonalds. The same kind of dirty one feels when having the wrong kind of thoughts about a friend’s sister. Or maybe not. Today on the way to my Grandpa’s 72nd birthday celebration we stopped at a set of yellow arches to use their always available facilities. I was hungry and had not had any breakfast, so I bought a Bacon-Egg-And-Cheese-Biscuit. It came with a fried potato patty and reconstituted orange juice. It was also cheap, cheap enough that I don’t remember what it actually cost.
As I was eating I confronted my feelings of hatred toward the McDonalds Corporation. Fueled by a variety of progressive news sources decrying their business procedures, Ronald and his painted-on smile had found their way into ranks that also held such smooth operators as Wal-Mart and Starbucks. At least in my mind, McDonalds was as close to pure evil that one can find for less than five dollars.
The only problem was that as I looked around the eatery, I could see nothing other than hungry people looking for quick cheap food and workers doing what they could to make a living. I finished my juice and walked out, completely unsure of what I believed in.