Who, honestly, has ever looked at a Big Mac lovingly?
The last time I held one tenderly in my hands I didn’t feel unbridled love, I felt a warm trickle of questionable animal fluid dribbling down my forearm. When I behold a McDonalds cheeseburger I’m not whisked to an ecstatic meadow of dreams by its subtle scent, I’m whisked downwind of a dustbin lorry on a hot summer’s day.
Don’t get me wrong, I love McFlurries as much as the next person, but I’ve definitely never thought about that venerable restaurant chain and thought: “I’m lovin’ it.”
The same, for that matter, goes for New York or any other city, mainly because it’s hard to feel genuine affection for an administrative region.
This whole love thing has gone a bit far. The trigger for me was seeing a tiny old lady carrying a woven shopping bag. Instead of the usual painting of an obscure ballroom dancing scene that usually adorns little old ladies’ shopping bags, this one was emblazoned with a simple message: “I ♥ My Bag For Life.”
I almost cried. Do her family not visit any more? Is her husband and/or cat long since deceased? What is this poor person’s life reduced to that all she has left to love is a simple woven bag?
Okay, obviously I didn’t think that, but what did spring to mind was the increasing prevalence of this kind of crap. You can declare your love for anything now, no matter how mundane, and nobody seems to think it’s at all weird. Pretty much the only thing I’ve not seen plastered across a T-shirt under a massive red heart is the word ‘Children’. This is my current favourite weird love example:
Mostly it’s a fairly cynical and desperate ploy by marketers, attempting to create loyalty to shitty products by creating a genuine emotional connection between a human and whatever it is they’re trying to flog. It’s quite sad in a way, because in my book love and hate are meant to be fairly rare emotions conveying powerful feelings and unique sensations, but this kind of lazy trash just cheapens all that, and creates new minefields in an already very minefield-ridden area of life:
“I love you.”
“That’s very nice, but your wardrobe says that you also love beer and the 1980s. I’m going now.”
So stop it. You don’t love New York. It’s likely you haven’t been. You don’t love your bag, or else you wouldn’t have so many others you cheating turd! You don’t love the 1980s, and if you say you do you weren’t there. You don’t love beer, you just drink a lot of it. You like these things. They bring varying degrees of mild satisfaction and temporary happiness to your life. But you don’t LOVE any of these things or else you’d currently be sat in a room with padded walls, drugged up to the eyeballs writing gushing love notes to your kitchen table while stern looking people looked at you and scribbled “still loves inanimate objects” on clipboards.
And you don’t want that. Unless you have a T-shirt with “I ♥ Powerful Sedatives” on it.
On a completely unrelated note, rantraverelax now comes with 100% more cat videos. Rejoice!