Fat people are fantastic. I love to roll them down hills. Or better yet, get them to hold a crab position: hey presto, luxury human sofa, extra comfy.
Hell, and I'm getting fat myself, so I can get away with saying all that.
One thing amazes me about the American stereotype though - on the one hand it says that Americans are image-obsessed, and on the other says they're all blubber-fiends. How can?
It's a very delicate system which fluctuates around the equilibrium.
An American in its natural state is fat. However, at regular intervals in the passage of time, Americans will realise that they are fat and resolve to go on a diet. Naturally, very few succeed. Those that do take it too far, becoming waif-like Hiltongangers, because this is America, pal, we don't do (or eat) things by halves in America.
The thin élite now become what are known as 'celebrities', pseudo-godlike idols whom the fat masses (and boy, are those masses ever massive) worship and attempt to mimic. So, the tide of thinning grows ever greater, and after a while, almost all Americans are thin.
Now a new creature enters the fray: the jealous prude. This can be a 'dietary expert', or a teacher, or some sort of mothers' association - the crucial common factor is that
they are all fat. These are the poor saps who can't help but snack on that fourth tub of chocolate ice-cream, and they envy the thin. However, because excess fat increases brainpower (as discovered in a study by Dr. McDonald, PhD, KFC) these fatties are crafty, and using their profound knowledge of the media they add fuel to the fire of the 'size zero debate'.
This action creates a quite noticeable reaction in the form of the fundamental force of moral outrage. Americans condemn the thin lifestyle, tear down the statues of their idols, the 'celebrities' - and pig out on freedom fries and McMilkshakes to their heart's attack. I mean content.
Until, of course, the whole thing starts over again.
So you see? The whole thing goes in cycles. It's like a flabby sine wave.
