89 long, dark nights for America: The meat sweats of American political campaigning
Eighty-nine long, dark nights to go.
Trump’s Daily Twitter Highlight: “Will be doing
@oreillyfactor tonight at 8pm. Enjoy!”
Clinton’s Daily Twitter Highlight: “If
@TeamUSA was as fearful as Trump, Michael Phelps and Simone Biles would be cowering in the locker room. America isn’t afraid to compete.”
Daily election article of interest: Who Cares Who Sits Behind Hillary Clinton or Donald Trump?
One aspect of the campaign that really has me worried for Hillary is the eating component. A peculiarity of the USA is that any candidate who harbors serious design on the Oval Office is required to demonstrate their love for the country by pandering to each region they’re visiting by eating that locale’s most sickening, acid-reflux inducing food. Forget the clichés about kissing babies, the US election season is actually a nonstop barrage of gluttony; Americans expect their candidates to ecstatically bite into cheesesteaks, corn dogs, po boys, sticky ribs, and greedily slurp up their chilli bowls. Ed Milliband, by only having to manage a bacon sandwich, got off lightly.
It is not going to feel authentic when Hillary chomps down on a serving of barbecued pork and beans at some random county fair. We are not for a moment going to believe she’s enjoying it. She is the cosmopolitan candidate in a period of anti-cosmopolitan sentiment. When Hillary swallows crappy carnival food, you just know she’s aware how awful it is and that she would rather be dining at Nobu. This is a woman who has probably never suffered an onset of the meat sweats in her life.
Trump, however, well there is a man who we know likes his beefy ingestations – ideally a well done steak from sharper image. This is a candidate who you can believe is enjoying his corn dog. Despite on paper seeming the most cosmopolitan of Presidential candidates he can convincingly and somewhat authentically cast himself as the opposite, a man without airs, and, as it turns out, there is also nothing hoity-toity about his palate. Perhaps because it is still the 1980s in his head, the decade that he came to popular culture relevance, but Trump still has that era’s love for fast food. Ashley Parker in The New York Times wrote this week about Trump’s peculiar eating habits.
Mr. Trump’s dining habits also bespeak a certain lack of creativity, and parochialism — the kid from Queens who made it across the river to Manhattan’s glistening skyline, but never cottoned to the city’s haute cuisine. He once praised the “imagination” of his wife, Melania, in the kitchen — before citing, as examples of her culinary derring-do, spaghetti and meat sauce, salads and meatloaf. (He still keeps a copy of his mother’s meatloaf recipe.) Along with McDonald’s, his favorite fast food joint, a family member said, is Jackson Hole Burgers.
One thought is that we do away with the Presidential election debates and replace them with a very special edition of Nathan’s Hot Dog Eating Contest.