The Hamburger Ambassador

Ah, Japan. Land of the Rising Sun. Where a torii gate wades in the tranquil ocean shores. Where a serpentine fog hovers around mossy green mountain tops. Where a monk wrapped in tangerine robes walks barefooted to a temple, clutching the stiff paper crown of a McDonald's bag.

Huh?

Even in the most foreign of lands, the inevitable American icon is bound to be seen. From the streets of Tokyo to the tundras of Russia, the golden arches of McDonald's (and not to mention other establishments like Hard Rock Cafe and Starbuck's) are the shinning symbols of America for our international friends.

But did anyone stop to notice that these are really crummy representatives to export from the U.S. of A?

You think cars, you think Japan. You think watches, you think Switzerland. You think German chocolate cake, you think Germany. When some guy named Yoshi Kamamoto thinks of America, he thinks of a Big Mac and fries.

Is this the image we want to send around the world? Do we want hamburgers to be the ambassadors of the American way: malnutrition and a free toy.

When compared with nations that are known for their captivating ballet, exquisite wine, or exciting folklore, the U.S. must look like an stubbly-faced guy with a beer belly figure wearing a Hooters shirt. Or, actually, no shirt at all, just a mat of unruly chest hair.

Wouldn't we rather be known for our ... um, let me see. You know we really don't have anything to be prided on. Our quality television programming? Nah.

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