Before you dismiss the next few moments as some fluffy, middle aged, prudish, past her prime, woman’s rant against young twenty-something females who have bodies for days and sex appeal that sells, don’t. I am, in truth, a fluffy, middle aged woman who has never considered herself anything but sometimes cute and mostly clumsy. My sense of fashion never developed past the “I’m in college, and I like to wear Umbro shorts and flip flops everyday” stage, and I have a tendency to find one outfit that works, and just stick with it. That being said, I am definitely not begrudging any young actress her body or appeal. In fact, I believe the female frame is one of the most artistically appealing renderings by the Creator, destined to be noticed, to be pursued, and to be desired. Forever an object of the male’s attraction, it is both incumbent upon each female to understand the power she possesses and to learn to treat that power with the same sensitivity she would when holding a live grenade. With great power comes great responsibility.
So, in your most recent advertising campaign, when you chose to put scantily clad, mostly wet, lanky legged models sliding around on hot rod vehicles while taking extra wide bites of one of your specialty burgers, I got it. I understand that you are trying to boost the profit margins for your company. Let’s face it. Fluffy biscuits purchased by senior citizens on Saturday morning just don’t pay the bills. And even in your hey day, when you were a new, shiny penny among the tarnished coins of the fast food industry, you were always, well . . . you were always Hardee’s. And I’m sorry about that. I really am.
However, just because we all understand that you are inexplicably attaching sex to hamburger meat doesn’t help me explain what is happening to my seven year old when he is watching television during a time of day or early evening when seven year olds watch television. And before you say, “just turn the channel,” I can’t. Your assault on the senses lasts 30 seconds. And admittedly, I am just not that fast.
So, let’s get this straight once and for all. Quit it. Seriously, stop it. Go back to “where’s the beef” or try to get that guy that talks faster than the speed of light to explain to us why we should buy your subpar fast food in an industry that is markedly subpar. And if you need to be weird, steal that creepy, plastic monarch that slinks around people’s houses and shows up in unexpected places eating a Whopper. There are ways to herd the dumb sheep, also known as the American consumer, into your half clean establishment without making us all feel like we need to take a shower first. In case you forgot, we are the most obese culture on the planet. We will eat anything, literally. So, please don’t sacrifice the souls of our young boys . . .our children, future husbands and fathers, on the altar of pornography before they even understand they are sexual creatures. There is an entire host of moms out here fighting a battle, outnumbered and oftentimes dismissed. We would love for our sons to grow into young men who value and enjoy the beauty of a woman while respecting the integrity of her heart and soul. As it stands right now, I’ve got to review 65,000 television shows on 7000 channels, check common sense reviews for 40 movie releases a year, scroll through browser histories, verify the age appropriateness of one million apps, and understand the ratings system of thousands of Wii, Xbox, and Nintendo games. Please, for the love of all that is holy, please don’t make me waste my precious time policing cheeseburger commercials. You’re better than that. Well, wait a minute. I forgot you’re not. But can’t we just pretend?