Again, the feminist blogospheres have already spoken re: this saucy (the puns, I’m full of ‘em!) Carl’s Jr. Western Bacon Cheeseburger commercial starring Top ChefPadma Lakshmi. But I’ve yet to see a vegan feminist response, so here we go.
(A word of warning: I’ve embedded seven – yes, seven! – videos below. While I don’t expect y’all to watch the uber-exploitative extended cuts, the other five are must sees.)
The commercial shows a scantily-clad (hiked skirt, plunging neckline, push-up bra) Padma strolling through an open air market, eying the fresh fruits and veggies with approval. The soundtrack is sensual, jazzy, worldly; the lyrics “’round the world” repeat on a loop. The viewer feels as though Padma could be anywhere: Istanbul, Paris, Barcelona.
And then, the voice over: “I’ve always had a love affair with food. I think I’ve tasted every flavor imaginable.”
Padma, seemingly arriving at her destination, plops down at the foot of an urban stoop, the distinctive white Carl’s Jr. bag in one hand. Suddenly, the atmosphere is very American – NYC, to be exact – and unappealingly so (read: inescapable American fast food chains).
Anyhow, Padma plops down, feet placed wide apart, so that the audience is treated to an almost-upskirt shot. Apparently we’re voyeurs now. (I didn’t sign up for this! I just wanted to watch 30 Rock in peace, dammit!)
“But there’s something about Western Bacon.”
Padma pulls a ridiculously large burger from her sack, and thrusts it into her mouth. She yanks a strip of “bacon” out from under the bun, and dangle-drops it into her mouth, all sexy-like. Probably Carl’s Jr. would like all the het dudes watching to imagine that she’s fellating it. The bacon. A pig corpse. Shudder.
“It reminds me of being in high school…”
Inexplicably, Padma hikes the skirt of her dress up to mid-thigh at this point. While, um, still scarfing the burger with her other hand. Sweet jeebus, who does that!?
“…sneaking out before dinner to savor that sweet, spicy sauce…”
Cue gratuitous tit shot.
Somewhat fortuitously (yeah right!), the aforementioned sweet and spicy sauce is now beginning to drip from the burger, down Padma’s hand and wrist. Naturally, she licks it off with an extended tongue – the likes of which I’ve only seen on my dog-kids, while attempting to dislodge peanut butter from the roofs of their mouths.
First and foremost, a few links from Sociological Images. Due to time constraints, I went a month or so without reading the blog, so it’s time to play catchup.
In which the milk of an (s)exploited mother acts as a stand-in for semen; at commercial’s climax (pun most definitely intended), said semen is “accidentally” spurted all over the face of a unsuspecting woman. About as classy as it is original!
Lisa examines a series of UPI photos of a PETA event that took place on Capitol Hill in order to protest/celebrate National Hot Dog Day. The photos feature two bikini-clad Lettuce Ladies – serving soydogs alongside two fully-dressed male PETA members – and the slideshow of ten pictures includes four boob/crotch shots. “Gender parity” my dimpled ass.
Oh boys. These commercials from the California Milk Processor Board are so dreadful, I’m actually struck speechless. Luckily, Sarah Haskins is on the case:
This ad for Burger King’s new (?) BK “Super Seven Incher” sandwich has been making the rounds – and, as usual, I’m way late to the party – but I simply have to blog it anyhow. It’s about as close as you can get to pornography without necessitating a little black bar for safe viewing.
The ad depicts a woman – or her disembodied head, rather – in side profile. Her mouth, outlined in bright, fire engine red lipstick, is opened wide, ready to fellategobbledevoureat consume a massive sandwich. The “Super Seven Incher” consists of a “beef patty” garnished with onions, cheese, steak sauce – and what looks to be a heaping serving of mayonnaise. (Unless that’s the steak sauce? But isn’t steak sauce brown? WTF do I know, I’m a vegan!) As other bloggers have pointed out, the mayo resembles male ejaculate; doubly so when considered in context.
Phallic/blow job imagery abounds: the woman looks as though she could be kneeling, and the sandwich is coming straight at her, directly perpendicular to her head. Though no one appears to be holding the sandwich, it floats in the air nonetheless. (As if standing erect – like, um, a penis!) Clearly, she’s not feeding herself, but is being fed – force-fed, possibly, judging from the look on her face. Her expression is so vacant that she kind of resembles a RealDoll.
The “fine print,” courtesy of Mother Jones: “Fill your desire for something long, juicy and flame-grilled with the NEW BK SUPER SEVEN INCHER. Yearn for more after you taste the mind-blowing burger that comes with a single beef patty, topped with American cheese, crispy onions and the A1 Thick and Hearty Steak Sauce.”
Desire. Yearn. Long. Juicy. Mind-blowing. Nope, nothing sexual there.
Typically speaking, in ads wherein sex is equated with “meat” (and thus violence and death), women are depicted as the “meat,” and men the consumers. Upon first glance, this BK ad seems to break with tradition – the “meat” here is a stand-in for a penis, so technically the man is the “meat,” and the woman, the consumer.
However, I think there’s an important difference between the two scenarios: when women are likened to “meat” (or, likewise, when “meat” is sexualized), it’s to turn them into objects for male consumption. In this vein, (the consumption of) “meat” is oftentimes associated with masculinity – and the “meat”-as-penis theme seems a natural extension of this meme. After all, what’s more masculine than the male sex organ? Even though the man in this ad sports the “meat,” he’s not objectified, nor does he exist for someone else’s gaze; that’s his partner’s role. Rather than being a consumable object, the (implied) man in this ad is aggressive and powerful, on the receiving end of a (non-consensual?) blow job. He may be the “meat,” but she’s still the (sex) object.
Okay, so it’s not that Joe Hill – obviously – nor is it his famous namesake. Nope, just some random Joe Hill living in Kansas City. In fact, I don’t even think it’s Joe Hill, but rather the wife of Joe Hill, using a joint email account. (Ladies, wtf is up with that shit? Email accounts are free, ya know, and marriage vows don’t grant your husbands the right to monitor your personal correspondence. Nor do they strip you of your self identity, surname notwithstanding.)
Either way, seeing Joe Hill’s name in the pending members list immediately brought to mind Joan Baez’s performance of “I Dreamed I Saw Joe Hill Last Night” (itself a cover of Earl Robinson’s rendition of a 1930 poem by Alfred Hayes), immortalized in the Woodstock ’69 movie and soundtrack. Oh, how I loved that soundtrack! I bought the boxed set some time around 10th grade, and blasted it nonstop for damn near a year. That summer, I spent a good chunk of my vacation sanding a car my parents had recently acquired, so my father could paint it (gray, yuck). From sun up to sun down for weeks, I scrubbed rust from metal while immersing myself in the sounds of Woodstock. Good times.
Anyhow, back to Joe Hill. Born Joel Emmanuel Hägglund in Sweden circa 1879, Joe Hill immigrated to the U.S. in 1902, where he eventually embraced socialism and joined the Industrial Workers of the World (IWW, or the Wobblies). He worked as a labor organizer, political songwriter, satirical poet and activist. Hill was accused of a double murder in Salt Lake City in 1914 and was subsequently tried and executed for the crime. Hill’s guilt, as well fairness of his trial (which are two separate issues), has been questioned by both contemporaries and historians.
But that’s neither here nor there. As one Amazon reviewer commented (oh, how my wishlist continues to expand!), Baez’s song need not be true in order to be powerful – or, for that matter, need not be nonfiction in order to be true. The U.S. government has a long and continuing history of activist repression, and even if Hill was not framed for the murders, it’s not a huge leap to think that the government has committed similar injustices against other, lesser known activists. The spirit of the song is spot on.
I’ve included the lyrics below for those who can’t view the video – though you’ll miss Baez recount her then-husband’s arrest and incarceration for resisting the military draft. Both Baez and David Harris were reportedly vegetarians; according to the Google, Baez still is (oh, how my love for Baez continues to expand!).
