Did McDonald's kill American community?

In 1948, the McDonald brothers reopened their immensely popular roadside restaurant, dramatically altering the format of the previous incarnation of their business. Gone were the parking lot waitresses, the large selection of items from the menus, and generally relaxed pace of serving featured prior. Now the Speedee Service System churned out simple cheeseburgers and fries at a quick, efficient pace. On this day almost sixty years ago, the long march to the decline and death of American society began.

Since the earliest days of civilization, a key component of developed life has been the common eating ground, the cafeteria, the agora, the bar, where members of the community went to indulge in good food, good drink, and perhaps most importantly, good talk. Trade and barter deals, philosophical debate, local gossip, all were discussed over meals at restaurants. Food was served as it was prepared, not rushed or hurried, allowing for the most time to speak and allow bridges to be built. Communities and civilizations have been fostered and built upon the rapport built during dinner.

In 1948, McDonald's changed all that. The high demand for food at a rapid pace induced the McDonald brothers to develop their rapid transit food delivery system, effectively inventing the fast food industry. The need for meals to churned out at rapid pace eliminated any possibility for anything other than shoveling food into your face in order to get out of the way for the guy who wanted your seat. McDonald's created the first schematic within the American psyche of rushing, of doing every task as quickly and efficiently as possible. After all, time is money. You had to be able to eat and finish your lunch in fifteen minutes, because you needed to be back at the office or factory within 5 minutes, because you needed to devote the other seven hours and forty minutes to working. If you spent any more time indulging in a leisurely meal, the guy behind you might finish eating quicker and steal your job and paycheck.

The multiplicative effect carried out through the entire culture, and what resulted were broken homes, parents obsessed with latching onto the brass ring, ever inflating demands from employers, and less time to sit down and talk and forge relationships and grow to understand about our neighbors. At this point in time, Americans trust their neighbors less than any other time previously in American history. When we hardly get the opportunity to speak to them, is this fact really so shocking?

Things I dislike: Armani Exchange

Now don't get me wrong. I think some of the stuff from Armani Exchange isn't too bad looking. I would wear some of it. There are just a couple reasons why I dislike seeing Armani Exchange stuff. First and foremost being, every god damn scum bag between the ages of 17 and 25 who wears anything from Armani Exchange immediately proclaims themselves as the hottest shit to walk the face of the planet earth. "I paid $35 for my t-shirt which has bawdy and crass logos splashed on it, and you should bow down to me because of it." It infuriates me to no end. You aren't hot shit because you paid $35 for a t-shirt, you're a moron who thinks that walking around using your chest as free advertising space makes you attractive, when it doesn't. Clearly. Don't get me wrong, I have paid up to $20 for a t-shirt, but that's it. And if at all possible, I try to keep any logos or annoying statements on my shirts to a minimum.

Second reason why I dislike Armani Exchange: The people who wear Armani Exchange act as thought they're wearing actual Giorgio Armani runway styles. Um, excuse me, you're wearing a label that Armani designed specifically for idiots like you, who use their parent's credit cards to pay for their wardrobe. It's sad and pathetic. Had I not seen every other douche bag at Rutgers wearing an Armani Exchange t-shirt in the last two years, I might be doing the same thing myself. Thankfully, my eyes saved me. I hate to think what would happen if I had fallen into that trap.

Thirdly, and finally, why I dislike Armani Exchange: Everything you can get there, you can get at H&M, and more than likely, at better prices. Blazers that cost $225 at Armani Exchange? Half that price at H&M. Whatever, that's fine, if those guys go to shop at Armani Exchange, then I'll just go to H&M and get whatever shit I want for cheap. Works for me!

Dear god, I've been up for 20 straight hours and I feel dead on my feet.

Aging and dying

I'm terrified of aging. Confronting the fact that I'm turning another year older sends me into a tail spin. Since I was about 15, I think I've felt this way. I always tend to start having morbid dreams in December, finding creative new ways to die. When I was turning 18, I had a dream that I fell from a building. When I was turning 19, I dreamt a steel spike was drive through my chest. When I turned 20, I saw my head exploding.

I don't know what terrifying dream I have this year. I don't know if this is some sick way of my subconscious telling me I should probably find a girlfriend and have sex, because I might be headed to some really fucked up shit soon. I don't know.

Maybe I should invest in antidepressants or something. Maybe a stress ball. That'd be a good place for you to start for buying me a birthday present.

Scurry

I'm having those same problems with people again. People not wanting to talk to me, people avoiding me, and generally feeling unwanted and despised. It's really heart wrenching, actually. I feel like I'm drowning alone in the middle of a crowd. I could scream and scream and I don't know if anyone could hear me. It's not depression. It's anxiety. I don't know who to rely on or who to trust or anything. I can't sit in a room and talk to anyone or give my troubles to someone else or anything.

I'm scared. I wish I wasn't.

Baker-Hamilton Report

When I listened to the Baker-Hamilton press conference, I really didn't hear anything different from what President Bush has been saying for the last couple of years. It was "Stay the course in Iraq" without using the words "stay the course". A slow withdrawal, Iraq is in shambles, we need to rebuild it. These are things the Bush Administration has been spouting for months.

And you know what? I don't disagree with it. What I've seen, what I've learned, what I've observed, I don't think we can simply drop everything and pull out of Iraq right now. It's suicide. We'd be begging for an assault of terrorist attacks in 20 years. It's simply not a good idea.

My politics aren't either liberal or conservative. And as much as it might bother some to read this, I happen to agree with the President on our current policies in Iraq.

Clarification: I agree with the rhetoric, not the actual policies. I think we need to stay in Iraq so as to avoid a huge tragedy in 20 years.

Things I need help with

I need someone to explain to me, first of all, how to meet women. And not just meet women, but meet them and not have them be either repelled by me or think of me on platonic terms. And I'm dead serious about this. When it comes to flirting and interpersonal relationships, I think I'm about as successful as a 13 year old with a stuttering problem. To date, I haven't had a girlfriend, and at my current pace, we're looking at me getting a girl to come to bed with me at age 58. Not a very good pace, so someone, please, help me the fuck out.

Secondly, I would appreciate help in figuring out where to learn about new music. Everyone always seems to find out about new bands about 8 months quicker than I do. I need to learn sources and shit. It would be extremely helpful, and keep me from feeling retarded.

Finally, I would like someone to donate money to me so that I could finally go to H&M/Urban/Abercrombie and buy the clothes I like, which would finally let me dress they I've always wanted. I want to be sexy back that my first request can fulfilled. Jack asses.

Stars in the sky

As far back as I can remember, when I stand outside and look up into the sky at night, the first thing I see is Orion's Belt. Those three stars in a line, endlessly twinkling in the night sky. Immutable, everlasting, for all of eternity.

Pulling back on the focus, my vision encapsulates the entire constellation. Following the path of the stars, I can make out Taurus, Monoceros, Lepus and countless more groupings of stars hanging like jewels in the night.

Drifting in a circle, I can see the moon cascading silver brilliance over the hills and rooftops. Planes soaring high above my head criss cross the sky, rushing points of light. I remember when I used to think that the airplanes were actually stars moving across the skies, imaging how fast they must be flying by in space if they seem to skipping down here.

There isn't anything I love more then watching the night sky.

At the movies

Today I went to the movies, alone. That's not very unusual for me. It's very clear that I possess a very anti social, avoidant personality. While I outwardly am desperate for attention, innately, subconsciously, I want nothing to do with other people. I'd much rather sit by myself at a meal than try to stumble through awkward conversation with a person who is perhaps a step removed from being a total stranger to me. I'm sure you can tell I'm an absolute joy to sit down and talk to.

While standing on line, alone, at the movies, I saw some people I knew from high school. I caught them coming out of the corner of my eye, and I quickly turned my head down and away from them. I silently thanked that I hadn't shaved in several days, and took out my phone in a self absorbed attempt to look like I was in touch with people already in the movie theater. By some stupid chance, they got in line right behind me. I hear them whisper and giggle to each other, enjoying some private joke. I squeezed my eyes shut and prayed that I wasn't the butt of some high school anecdote. I shuffled up to the ticket window, purchased my ticket, and hauled ass right out of the lobby.

Walking into the theater, I scanned for a place to sit, with at least one empty seat on either side of where I wanted to sit. Such is the awkward part of going to the movies alone. You don't want to sit directly next to someone, as doing so invades upon the atmosphere of intimacy that movies create. In this world of text messaging in iPods, it has become a social faux pas to speak to a total stranger, to interject yourself into someone's little world. This has seeped into every facet of life to the point where it's impossible to meet new people.

As I tried to find a seat, my eyes latched upon a group of people. This was a group of people who graduated high school with me. I cursed myself under my breath. Of course these people would be here, home for Thanksgiving, bored to tears until they could catch flights back to whatever school they found themselves attending. I quickly found a seat on the end of a row, ducked my head down and tried to make myself as invisible as I possibly could.

I hated high school with every fiber of my being. Every moment I spent in that building was a smothering, suffocating experience. I can hardly recall a handful of pleasant moments I experienced within those four years. And yet, the entire world treats those years with such reverence that I can't help but feel an enormous amount of cognitive dissonance when remembering high school, and actually convincing myself that I in fact loved high school, and missed the same people who made my life miserable, and shaped the bitterness I still feel to this day.

Next time I want to see a movie, I'm going to another state.

Homewrecker

I seem to have developed a fatal flaw. I only find myself interested in women I know to be in the middle of relationships. Not just flings, but full on relationships. I'm sure if I ever met a married woman, I'd attempt to move the stars in an effort to peel her away from her man. I'm not sure why I've developed such a fruitless and destructive taste. Perhaps it has something to do with longing and jealousy. After all, if these two people can be engaged in such a meaningful, fulfilled relationship, then why can I have that? And like the jealous bully on the playground, I try to wedge myself in the middle of perfectly healthy, happy relationships and try to steal the girl away.

Well, perhaps nothing that dramatic. I'm far too timid to actually take things that far, I think. But I am pretty certain I have ruined some lives. Or maybe not. Maybe I'm giving myself too much credit, and creating illusions in my mind in an effort to quell the dissonance I feel within myself.

Regardless, I'm a bad person.

Speech patterns

The differences between people and regions are interesting to me. Living in New Jersey, there's such a diverse difference between accents and pronunciations it's stunning. Someone from North Jersey, close to Staten Island, say, sounds nothing like someone from South Jersey, from, say, Millville. It's really just amazing listening to a conversation between people and picking up on the subtle intonations people have as they speak.

But with the television and internet generation, I've been hearing less of these accent differentiations. As more people turn on MTV and CNN, more flat accents with less unique inflections are becoming the norm across the country. I feel it's kind of sad. In such a huge country as ours, it was interesting to hear the unique ways people would say things. Now, everyone is starting to sound and look the same.

I guess that's the price we pay for globalization.

Under developed

I'm not really sure how I can listen to all of these depressing songs about relationships and whining about life when I really haven't done much of either to qualify as an expert on them. Really, what have I done? I've been in relationships? Um, no, not really. Hell, I haven't even been a victim of a fuck and run. My experience with relationships lies within televised dramas and movie scripts. My knowledge of people and love and life has been taught to me through 15 and 32 inch screens 20 minutes at a time. I really don't know anything about life or love.

Which is pathetic, really. It's yet another area in which my life, my growth, is severely stunted. How can I possibly expect to exist in this world if I'm 5 years behind everybody else? I'm just learning how to flirt and be comfortable in my own skin, something most people learn by the time they're 15. I'm sitting here in awe of abilities most people don't give second thought to. It's tragically debilitating. I'm not sure how to handle it, or how to react to it. Hell, even putting pen to paper stuns me. I can barely comprehend the gibberish I'm putting forth at this moment.

Bad connection.

There are plenty of things I question on a regular basis. Why don't people keep in touch with me? Am I really that irritating, that grating on people's sensibilities that they will take such tremendous steps to avoid speaking to me? What about my intelligence? I'm sure I possess some. In fact, I know I am. It's been proven, been certified, been made clearly apparent. I'm not a moron. So I can at least keep up a conversation. But I'm not sure. I guess I put people off enough that I'm just not interesting enough to keep a conversation up with. Which should make me sad, except, I find enough people to keep myself occupied with on a moment to moment basis that I can deal with what my situation has become.