American children are seriously overweight, and the kids in my neighborhood are fatter than most.
In its wisdom the LAUSD has taken the position kids are not getting enough calories, and has summoned them back to school during summer vacation with standing offers of free lunch. No studying. No playtime. Just waddle in and chow down, courtesy of the government. You don’t even have to be a student, only a minor. Anyone will do. It’s free! From the magic bucket of stuff you didn’t ask for and which has no bottom, and no purpose but to grow the payroll downtown.
God help the politician who tries to put an end to this. Para ninos! Nino pequenos hambrientos! Muere, hombre malvado!
Apparently the feeding includes food trucks. This was not my lunch room experience as a kid. Okay, I went there.
I was feeling curmudgeonly about this as I walked into Macleod yesterday and availed myself of the free peanuts. Like a horse I ate, munching contentedly, scattering the shells around my stall. Chomp, chomp. Crack, crack. Glug, glug.
Well, they were free.…once I bought the beer.
It occurred to me, as I gazed upon Roderick’s peanut gallery, it was theoretically possible at this very moment an aspiring Matisse at Vista Middle School was working off her portion of carbs by etching dancing nudes on to the back of a styrofoam clamshell. If Roderick can create portraiture from peanut shells, perhaps the clamshell itself will become a new textural form. Perhaps the food, like the peanut, is beside the point. It’s the shell that matters. The vessel is the gesture.