This just goes to show the common sense of the average American. When he or she is vibrantly optimistic about the future, they’re at the gym, pedaling madly on a stationary bike and hydrating with some low-calorie blue drink that’s so loaded with trace amounts of useless homeopathic crap that it costs four bucks a bottle. When they’re forcibly stuck at home, with nothing to do except watch their 401(k)’s disappear like they wish the Kardashians would, they snuggle into the couch cushions, drink Jim Beam and eat caramel popcorn.
Hand a quarantined person a plate of raw veggies and they’re liable to throw it back in your face. “Stick them Daikon radishes where the sun don’t shine,” they say. “And fuck your ranch dip, too,” they might add, as they dip their pork rinds into chunky blue cheese dressing.
It’s Easter egg season, but nobody’s bothering to hide their baskets. Just keep those Reese’s peanut-butter eggs coming. And hollow chocolate bunnies. And solid chocolate bunnies. The only Easter candy sales that will suffer from the virus are the stuff that nobody likes, but looks good in the basket—jelly beans and Peeps. Those things are the jicama of candy.
Meat is making a big comeback. Prime rib and mashed are pushing tilapia and wild rice right into the garbage disposal. Those Impossible Burgers? They’re impossible to sell nowadays. When Americans are staring death in the face, they want to be cramming a real Whopper into their meat chute, and dabbing real grease off their lips with as few napkins as possible, because they’re saving the rest of the inch-thick wad they snatched off the counter as a substitute for toilet paper.
After a couple weeks in quarantine, you may fear the bathroom scale more than you fear your neighbor coughing at your screen door. Discipline yourself. Only eat a Dorito when Trump lies about the virus, or shows that he knows less about infectious disease than he does about the Constitution. It’s only one press conference a day. You may not finish the bag, but for sure you won’t starve.
Bottom line is, we’re all coming out of this dead or fat. It’s an election year. Vote for whoever promises you the cheapest insulin.