TRUTH IN ADVERTISING

There Are Burger Joints, And Then There Are Burgers And Joints

The fault, Shakespeare once almost said, lies not in our stars but in our
stuffing our faces. That sentiment is basically the reasoning behind a
federal district court judge's January dismissal of a recent lawsuit
against McDonald's, brought by two obese New York City teenagers who
claimed that the fast food was at fault for their fat. "Common sense has
prevailed," read a statement issued by a no doubt relieved McDonald's,
which had probably contemplated a future where "over 99 billion served"
would include the word "subpoenas." "The plaintiffs have alleged that the
practices of McDonald's in making and selling their products are deceptive
and that this deception has caused the minors who have consumed McDonald's
products to injure their health by becoming obese," observed Judge Robert
W. Sweet in his ruling. In other words, the kids asked, how were we to know
that a steady diet of hamburgers and french fries was going to make us fat?
And the judge's response was, well, they should know and they therefore
"cannot blame McDonald's if they, nonetheless, choose to satiate their
appetite with a surfeit of supersized McDonald's products."

Sweet clearly came down on the side of personal responsibility, a stance he
has long taken. "In the interest of consistency and integrity," he wrote in
a footnote, "it should be noted that the author of this opinion publicly
opposed the criminalization of drugs.... This belief is based upon the
notion that, as long as consumers have adequate knowledge about even
harmful substances, they should be entitled to purchase them, and that the
issue should be one of health, not the criminal law."

Which brings us to Item Two, namely, the current odd ad campaign sponsored
by the Office of National Drug Control Policy. My favorite in this series
of public-service spots features two teenage boys smoking marijuana in the
den of what appears to be an upper-middle-class home. After some insipid
pot-inspired conversation, one dumb kid finds a handgun. The other dumb kid
says, "Cool," and asks if it's loaded. The first dumb kid points the gun at
the second, says, "No," and pulls the trigger. We hear a gunshot as the
screen goes dark and then read the following: "Marijuana can distort your
sense of reality. Harmless?"

This is an antidrug commercial? Because it sure looks to me like an antigun
commercial. I grew up in a house with a rifle, which was dismantled and in
a locked case, and I know that no card-carrying member of the National
Rifle Association would keep a handgun loaded and easily accessible,
especially in a home with children. Furthermore, I put forth the
proposition that I would much rather find myself in a room full of stoned
teenagers without guns than in a room full of straight teenagers carrying
loaded weapons. (I actually did the first part of this experiment in the
1970s, but I categorically refuse to do the second part, unless the
teenagers in question are in boot camp at Parris Island.)

Now, before I get audited, no one is suggesting that teenagers use drugs,
just as no one is suggesting that they drink beer until they puke, except
for companies that do extensive advertising to college kids, most of whom
are below the legal drinking age. But I digress. Why not let teenagers know
about the dangers of drug use in a way that would actually get their attention?

For example, a TV commercial that might very well drive many teenage boys
away from marijuana could say: "Smoking a lot of pot may give men breasts
worthy of the Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue." I can envision another
commercial that ends with a sober guy telling his stoned buddy, "Look,
there's not enough dope in the world to get her to sleep with you." And
finally, how about one in which two fat stoners sue their dealer because
the munchies made them eat too much McDonald's?