Drop that initiative, my friend, and grab yourself a spatula. Political maneuvering has just been catapulted from the dreary realm of bills and petitions into the chaotic and exciting world of a 12-year-old's birthday party.
At some point on Oct. 26 (during a heated debate over whether to buy weapons from the United States) aggravated members of the Taiwanese legislature did what reasonable political figures do: They hurled their lunches at each other.
Eggs, rice, vegetables and meat flew around the room, launched by angry politicians in what appeared to be a concerted effort to win the vote of every preteen boy in Taiwan.
Apparently, the melee commenced when opposition legislator Chu Fong-chi rose from her chair and began shouting at ruling party lawmakers. Local television cameras caught a shot of her ducking, as if to avoid an object. The next moment the food was flying, as Chu Fong-chi flung her take-out container at Democratic Party legislator Chen Chong-yi.
To be fair, the Taiwanese parliament is known for its violent political meetings, where physical "incidents" are not uncommon. In the last decade, fistfights have been kept to a minimum, but insults and belittlement are de rigueur for these nuanced politicians.
In a related story, last Sunday's match between two of England's premier soccer teams, Manchester United and Arsenal, ended with United breaking Arsenal's 49-game winning streak. Members of the Arsenal squad -- armed with soup and possibly some other culinary delights -- allegedly greeted United's manager after the game and chucked their provisions at the winning manager.
Now, ridiculous as this all seems, I can see some benefits to this edible method of conflict resolution.
First, if candidates for our student government were allowed to gaily fling Sodexho treats at each other across Hayden Lawn, it just might generate greater student voter turnout. Perhaps the sight of a Mein Bowl entree pegging someone in the head during a debate on Student Recreation Complex expansion would spur even the most apathetic individual into action.
Second, it is apparent that quite a few of our national political figures are a bit on the hefty side. Maybe it would behoove them to skip a meal or eat smaller portions every now and then. Alas, as we know all too well, it is nearly impossible to refuse food sitting on the table in front of you with tasty coils of steam floating into your nose.
So, we could just think of food fights as a kind of senatorial weight-loss plan. Once the lunch has landed on the opposition's lapel, at least it won't be eaten.
Third, I can think of nothing greater on this earth than the prospect of Derek Jeter and Pedro Martinez beating each other over the head with hot dogs, peanuts or whatever else they can find at the ballpark. Forget the "Who's your Daddy?" chant. That is so last year. Come the 2005 baseball season, I want to see players and fans resolving their conflicts the adult way -- by squirting ketchup on each other.
Finally, since the debates don't really tell us anything new about the candidates anyway, they should be done away with all together. In 2008, I want to see the contenders duke it out with tomatoes, bratwursts, Pop Rocks or whatever they need to emerge victorious. Political campaigning is nothing but mudslinging as it is, so it might as well be updated to food flinging.
So there you have it. Now go smear up that bagel in your lunch pail and find some opponents. It's food fracas time!
Katie Kelberlau is a history and religious studies senior. Reach her at dointhechop@yahoo.com.
