There are so many things that fully merit discussion here which I nevertheless refuse to blog about, and others which are stupid and I nevertheless mention with glee. About the least significant of these is California’s descision to ban school bake sales. That’s what I’m going to post about, if only to remind myself that not everyone is from California, and that almost no one outside of the Golden State (or maybe the Bay/LA Metro Areas) gets why this was so inevitable.
If you didn’t follow the link (why didn’t you follow the link? Are my links not good enough for you? Is that it?) I’ll summarize: because the state cannot effectively moderate the fat and calorie content of bake sale goodies, and because children in this country are getting fatter by the minute (some pediatricians describe childhood obesity rates, even in the land of wheatgrass and yay, as totally flipping out of control) California has outlawed the time-honored practice of hawking overpriced marshmallow treats at public schools.
Yes, there are good and right reasons to do this (hello, children with type II diabetes? Also, the market doesn’t just regulate itself. When do you think this is, 2007?)- I believe very strongly that none of these reasons factored into the decision.
Rather, I think we outlawed bake sales for the same reason we passed Prop. 2, the no cruelty to chickens law on last week’s ballot (ironic that we voted up on civil rights for chickens and down on civil rights for gay people, but whateves). It’s a philosophy I trace back to my days as a preschool teacher at Ice Cream and Shoe Preschool and Kindergarten, where parents hoping to celebrate their child’s second birthday are encouraged to share fresh fruit and wheat-free birthday cake with non-dairy low sugar frosting. I SHIT YOU NOT. Wheat-free non-dairy no sugar cupcakes are also acceptable. Homemade juice-pops–pushing it.
We Californians are, and always have been, control-freaks, and since we’re the exotic-foods aisle (and the produce and dairy aisles) for the rest of the country, we’re controlling about food. If you want to live in our Golden land of opportunity, beaches and seismic awesome, you’d better toe the fucking line. Sure, drop all the acid you want, but don’t even think about bringing that Slim Jim across state lines. Before I was a pavement tech, I spent some time on a dairy delivery team for the University Students’ Cooperative Association in Berkeley. It was the same deal. You can spend your entire house budget on Missle Big Sticks and It’s-It’s, but don’t even fucking think about bringing brisket. There are certain houses (I won’t name names, but think LOTR and you’re getting there. Sigh) where it is illegal to bring meat. Try it and you’ll be excommunicated faster than you can say cholesteral.
The point being, this is the state that legalized pot and then outlawed smoking in restaraunts and Coke in schools. If we can’t do it, no one can. The pop warner football team’s annual bakesale? We do it in our fucking sleep.