So, without wading into the political arena, or without getting on my spiritual soapbox, or without inserting all kinds of opinions into my little blog space that no one asked for…
(Hard to do since A. My husband is in politics; B. I’m a nice Christian girl; and C. I definitely have some opinions—especially when we’re talking about the weird trend of women wearing leggings as pants. So, so tacky)
…here’s my take on the whole chicken flap of late. Ready for it? Are you sure? ‘Cause this post is about to get deep. Here goes:
I love my hairdresser.
I love my local coffee shop.
I love Target t-shirts.
I love my neighborhood grocery store.
I love Sonic Diet Coke, extra ice.
I love Red Box movies.
I love Starbuck’s Mocha Fraps, Grande size.
I love Victoria’s Secret underwear. And bras.
I love Pantene hairspray and shampoo.
I love the Hobby Lobby discount aisle.
I love Mike and Ike’s, even without the Ike.
I love Secret deodorant.
I love Kinko’s printing/mailing—all in one store.
I love Barnes and Noble’s everything.
I love Ben and Jerry’s new Greek frozen yogurt.
I love Chick-Fil-A’s Chicken Sandwich/Waffle Fry combo.
And you know why I love all of these things (and lots more that I didn’t put on the list because it’s midnight, I’m tired, and my mind quit working about two hours ago)?
Because they make a great product. Period. I couldn’t care less about their political affiliation. In fact— from Ben and Jerry’s to Pantene to Barnes and Noble to Chick-Fil-A…from the media to the right wing to the left wing to Hollywood—I wish they’d all just shut up and let me shop.
Unless, of course, a founder of a company is asked about their beliefs by a Christian magazine with a very specific demographic in a relatively safe venue. Or if another founder of a company is asked the same question by Time Magazine with large readership and the response is celebrated. In both cases, the founder ought to have a right to answer. Whether I like the answer or not.
I mean, there is that tiny, little issue of free speech and all. But what do I know.
All I know for sure is that tomorrow, I’m gonna pull out my carton of Ben and Jerry’s Peanut Butter Banana crunch, two-fist it with some Mike and (not) Ike’s, and eat them on the way to buying myself a dang good chicken sandwich. And for good measure, I’ll go ahead and do it again on Wednesday.
Because I like food. All kinds of kinds.
(Eat More Chikin)