Showing posts with label rasta. Show all posts
Showing posts with label rasta. Show all posts

Sunday, March 8, 2009

Them Belly Full BBQ Co.

We are in the presence of the most culturally insensitive artifact we have ever uncovered.

Take a bow, barbekooks. You've really outdone yourselves this time.

When a music legend's plea for racial justice and the acknowledgment of our shared humanity becomes another lamebrain barbecue slogan… Well, it tries one's faith.

We are all accustomed by now to the coarsening of our culture, the cheapening of our history, the defiling of our profoundest yearnings. It has happened so often, many of us no longer know the difference between authentic lives lived and the greasy speeches and grimy lies of the advertisers, the hypnotizers, and the bamboozlers.

Charlatans show us a warped mirror of ourselves and mesmerize us with voices we take to be our own. They do this to sell us things we don't want, need, or even understand. They do it to prevent us from feeling our own power.

Which brings us back to Bob Marley's anthem of despair "Them Belly Full (But We Hungry)."
Cost of livin' gets so high.
Rich and poor they start to cry.
Now the weak must get strong.
They say, "Oh, what a tribulation!"
Them belly full, but we hungry.
A hungry mob is a angry mob.
A rain is fall, but the dirt it tough.
A pot is cook, but the food no 'nough.
Food is not enough. The spirit must be nourished. The thirst for mercy must be slaked!

Only… not in Suicidefoodistan. Everything there is just an excuse for mocking the animals sold down the river. So the "hungry, angry mob" is just that: No longer a metaphor for the multitudes who would be free, now it is only a problem to be solved by suicidal animals marching to their besotted deaths. "Hungry, you say? Here."

The animals (including a pig, whose flesh is abjured by many Rastas) wear dreadlocks and bear all the telltale signs of ganja use. Their flag is the distasteful bastard child of the Rasta and Texas flags.

Is nothing sacred? Can you really wonder?

Friday, July 20, 2007

Rasta Joe BBQ

Well, Fat Buddies, your reign didn't last long. No more are you the title holders in the Ugly Appetite-Killer category. Rasta Joe has taken your crown and... pawned it to buy weed?

Everything here appears designed to repel (or at least annoy):
• Cat's-eye glasses
• Awkward draping of right leg to hide pot-induced arousal
• Half-shirt
• Bo Derek bead braids
• Hog bristle stubble
• Lovingly rendered trotter anatomy
• The "Peel me a grape!" posture

However!

Wince-making though he is, rasta pig is the perfect suicidefood mascot. Rastas take things as they come. They see the oneness of the universe. Irie and all that. Of course they understand how their death and dismemberment is all a part of the plan. It's Jah's will that they be devoured and excreted by heedless patrons.

This pig's total (and serene) acceptance of his fate is merely one way suicidefood works. It's okay with the pig, so it should be okay with you. Fry 'em up, and choke 'em down.

One love.







Curious design note: This depiction of Rasta Joe (left) appears to be an earlier incarnation of the mascot (judging by the current homepage of the restaurant). So... They reworked this thing to remove the soft-focus look and wallow in a "warts and all" aesthetic? Interesting choice.