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Joey Chestnut wins his seventh straight Fourth of July Hot Dog Eating Contest in Coney Island with a new world record of 69 hot dogs and buns in 10 minutes. |
I guess it was me who was channel surfing and decided to click on the Hot Dog Eating Contest. Yes, the one in Brooklyn, where Joey Chestnut and a cast of other chuckleheads compete to see how many dogs they can down in 10 minutes.
At first, I was amused. The idea that several hundred people would crowd into the streets near Coney Island to cheer on this gluttonous display of wretched excess was topped only by the realization that Nathan's Famous Hot Dogs and several other corporate sponsors would shell out to finance a nationally broadcast of this pseudo-event.
Sure enough, there was a play-by-play announcer and a color commentator, plus another yahoo to introduce the contestants -- as if this were a bonafide athletic event. Some of the competitors were said to be world champions in different categories of competitive eating: most oysters, most chicken wings, most deep-fried asparagus (really?) ...They took the stage as if they were gladiators, slapping hands with fans and mugging for the camera.
Interviews with some of the contestants, an explanatory piece on the "science" of binge eating, and real-time statistical analysis of each person's DPM -- that's Dogs Per Minute -- left me disgusted.
Changing the channel only made things worse. A reality show called "Bar Rescue" had me shaking my head. It's clearly modeled after the "Restaurant Impossible" show, where a consulting chef/restaurateur comes in to recommend a complete makeover for a struggling restaurant. The tough-love approach was mimicked -- and amped up some -- by the "bar rescuer," considering he had come in to try to make a biker bar profitable.
Even Jordan, the most easygoing guy on the planet, was laughing at the absurdity of the scene. Heavily tattooed, hard-drinking, under-educated folks getting all testy at the consultant's critique of their establishment. A video clip shows a bunch of burly guys and their skanky girlfriends dance drunkenly as part of the Zero Dark Thirty drinking club hosted by the bar.
Disgust turned to disbelief.
At that point, a not-so-pleasant thought occurred to me. My son spends months in Afghanistan with fellow members of a Stryker brigade, trying to keep a lid on Taliban activity and indirectly protecting our freedoms as Americans, none more important than freedom of expression. And he comes home to this? The trashiest display of American culture you would ever want to see involving gluttony, pseudo-celebrity, phony drama and overall sleaziness.
"You can see why so many people around the world resent Americans," Jordan said. "People are starving and here you have these guys stuffing their faces with hot dogs."
I couldn't agree more. The contrast was impossible to miss. Especially a couple days after the Fourth of July. I suppose, though, the freedom of expression includes the freedom to stage ridiculous contests and market them to a willing audience. At the point, I exercised my freedom to shut the TV off.
Photograph: New York Daily News