The clown made me eat the cheeseburger, honest

I’m a little bit fat. It’s no big deal and I’m not sensitive about it. If it really mattered to me, I’d step away from the burrito and start jogging. But it doesn’t, so I won’t.

What I will do is something that is fast becoming an American tradition: find somebody else to blame. In this case, a certain red-haired clown associated with a fast food restaurant found on every other block in every city across the country. For lawsuit-avoidance purposes, let’s call him “Donald.”

Donald has been trying to get me to eat cheeseburgers since I was about four years old. For the most part, he’s been successful. This despite the fact that (in my opinion) his cheeseburgers taste like a cross between wallpaper paste and the sawdust elementary school janitors use to clean up the mess created when a third-grader barfs in the cafeteria.

Donald never actually held a .45 to my head and forced me to dine at one of his restaurants. But he did offer a free toy with every (what for legal purposes we will call a) “scrappy meal.” And that, according to Alfred David Klinger—spokesperson for the consumer watchdog group Corporate Accountability International—is just as bad.

By offering that free toy, Donald is to blame for my current, manatee-like physique.

Klinger and his organization want Donald’s head on a platter, though not to eat, presumably, because of the calories and high fat content. Donald, they say, encourages American children to eat the wrong sorts of foods (anything but carrots and Brussels sprouts).

American parents can’t be trusted to look out for the welfare of their own children. We are, Klinger and his group imply, too stupid and lazy.

One can only assume other food mascots also will soon be targeted. I know that stupid bear with a voice faintly reminiscent of Bing Crosby’s got me to eat Sugar Crisp cereal for decades. I still do, from time to time. I was powerless before Sugar Bear’s mellifluous jingle singing!

Likewise, Quisp and Quake (I’m not sure what they were supposed to be) had me eating their cereal as well, even though it tasted like a yellow crayon and stuck to my teeth for hours.

And let’s not forget that freaky-looking plastic-faced guy in a crown and tights who wants me to eat his cheeseburgers. He’s at least as bad as Donald, and twice as ugly, even if he is royalty of some sort.

Then there’s the kindly colonel, who talked me into eating untold hundreds of chickens. What about him? Doesn’t Klinger’s group want to do something about him?

Look, my point is Klinger is stupid. No, wait, that’s not it. My point is, I neither need nor want a consumer watchdog group protecting my delicate eyes from the sight of a clown hawking burgers. I can, believe it or not, decide for myself what I want for dinner. I’m guessing most Americans can say the same.

If I want a watchdog, Mr. Klinger, I’ll buy a pit bull. Meanwhile, have a cheeseburger and a chill pill. In fact, have two. Maybe if your mouth is full, it’ll shut you up for a while.

More Reality Check online at http://mtrealitycheck.blogspot.com or www.mlive.com. Email Mike Taylor at mtaylor325@gmail.com.