Saturday, June 13, 2009

Agnus Dei Qui Tollis Assus Bovis

I have a secret confession to make.

It might totally ruin whatever street cred I might have as a bastion of intelligentsian sensibility and good taste. It might even lead to my mother taunting me- or even mocking me. Or flout me. Or... hoot... me... you know what, I think you made that last one up.

Forgive me Blog audience of Four, and really angry Miltonman, for I have sinned. It's been quite some time since my last confession. Here goes:


I love 7-11.

There. I said it. I love 7-11. And do you know why? Because 7-11 doesn't try and pretend it's something it's not. It sells crap. Crap of the purist, rarefied form. And no one leaves 7-11 under the impression that they have purchased something healthy. They have purchased, as said, pure crap (Crapure!), and then they will eat it. Some will feel gratified. Some will feel guilty. Some will be indifferent. This is consistent with the effects of attending a local place of worship. Being in the presence of articles of faith can lead to diverse responses running the gauntlet from orgiastic frenzies to sitting bored in a pew, as affected by the preacher as one might be by a dust mote on the floor. Each 7-11 is a shrine to crapure- no, it's bigger than that. Each franchise store is a chapel to crap. It offers t o it's followers the promise of hope eternal, of something more, no matter how inaccessible it might sometimes seem (by which I mean Beef Jerky. Now there's something inaccessible. Eight bucks a package, what the hell people?). Here, in this seraphic sepulchre, one might consume such victuals as to hit a sugar high so uplifting that one might touch the face of God. And when it might seem like anything will give you a heart-attack, that the organic lovers might win, the faithful know that they can prostrate themselves before the altar of the cashiers counter and be taken up into a Divine, loving embrace (the Crapture!). And at that altar, you can find the host of our chapel, the inscrutable taquito. What is in a 7-11 taquito, you ask? I don't know! I looked it up. Nothing. I even wikied it... and I misspelled it and got sent to article on Tacitus instead. Nice man, good with kids. But taquitos, friends, in their glistening, unctuous depths is the true Elevenian Mystery.

No, 7-11 is proud of its faith, its rich heritage, its venerable and sancrosant traditions. Its ads don't try to make their food look healthy, no, the lighting highlights the patina of grease, the beige and green hellion innards of a Jalapeno and Cream Cheese Taquito. And as for that display of fruit and sandwiches in the corner? Sacrilege, you say? Heresy? Not at all, I reply. It's merely a nod towards the existence of other faiths, like a note pinned to a church hall bulletin board informing members of an upcoming interfaith dialogue. A sign that the church is full of tolerance, but not ever taken seriously.

So sits august 7-11, administering alms to the trans-fat poor, and bestowing MSG on those who have none. Sail on, sweet 7-11, sail on.

*Next Week*
Street Cred: What is it, and how can I break it?


C8H10N4O2 said...

Oh James, you just made my night.

Ryan Shackleton said...

I always thought that fruit was wax. Or maybe a cardboard display like in a furniture store.