Ben&Jerry’s: a Tub Full of Attitude
The problem with American election season is that it gives an opinionated writer like me too much material to work with. Going on and on about everything that transpired over the last few days in America would be merely a topping on the giant ice cream of grievances, bitterness and frustration that followed the astounding defeat of Kamala Harris within DNC’s outreach tub, both locally and globally. Or pool, that is. It went from steaming hot with enthusiasm and then slowly decended all the way into freezing depths of despair within one night. The DNC must be scraping the bottom of the tub to find that one last spoonful of political dignity. Which would be an accurate description because everyone was eager to share their opinion on the upcoming Dark Ages in America. Your friends, family, even your pumpkin-fuckin’-spice-latte has an attitude you need to hear.
Or at least that’s what happened with Ben & Jerry’s, the beloved American ice cream brand known for their many different flavours and toppings that turned them into a global success too. When I have a chance, I usually drop by for a tublet (I swear I invented the word, a deminutive for the regular size) and always enjoy it. Coming from a part of Europe known for brain-melting degrees, your favourite flavor says as much about you as your gender identity here, trust me. One of my friends is obsessed with pistacchio, I’m rather on the citrusy side of the taste spectrum. Those with a preference for vanilla or chocolate are like a dessert equivalent of a mormon: sticking to the good old stuff without an inch of adventure, a hint of risk. There’s only one proper way to eat it here: grab a spoon and dive right into it until you reach the bottom, all gooey and delightful.
On a recent post on Instagram, B&J reacted to Trump’s triumph with the title “The 2024 Election Is Over But The Work Isn’t”, followed by a pledge to continue their contribution to the liberal agenda, going as far as encouraging peaceful marches. This is another example of what happens when a brand decides to turn their shelves into political pulpits. Sometimes it backfires, like Bud Light’s association with Dylan Mulvaney, so it’s yet to be seen how customers will react to this bitch-slap. Neither company learned anything from the current cultural discourse: too many people are sick and tired of virtue signalling from corporations and millionaires. Which makes Elon Musk’s stake in Trump’s administration contradictory to their own alleged values. Because Musk is the very embodiment of their grievances. If he were an ice cream, B&J’s “dirt cake” would be the flavour.
In my corner of the woods, there’s an equivalent, of sorts. Divers, who take leaps from the Old Bridge for tourists and their cameras, tend to release a public statement about political matters too. Those are sometimes mocked for their clearly biased nature, usually aligned with right-wing populism. If they really had something serious to say, they’d be sitting in a Town Hall meeting instead on a fence in a tourist attraction in their swimming trunks. This thing has turned into a running gag and yet that’s not the case with similar statements by Ben&Jerry’s. What I want from a tub of ice cream isn’t a lesson, but a sugar-coated dopamine hit. The line between ideology, entertainment and marketing is getting increasingly blurry. Trump’s victory has proven that old tricks don’t really work any more. The DNC will have to come up with a new flavor in order to get back on top of the podium. Before that, it’s necessary to do some proper soul searching.
European history is a good example of how only a decisive break can bring about a change. In France, the ruling aristocracy was blind to the plights of people whose lives were reduced to survival and suffering. It was a question of time when the barrel would explode. When it did, it ripped the system apart, turning its rotten fabric into shreds from which a new, civil society emerged. The closest America came to this were the improvised gallows for Mike Pence on Capitol Hill. Fortunately, the noose didn’t come close to his neck. In Russia, the Romanovs were so out of tune with reality they didn’t even catch a glimpse of what’s coming. Of course, the system that replaced them wasn’t exactly a bed of roses either, but it reduced its former elites to fugitives smuggling jewels out of Russia in their petticoats. On the other hand in America, the Clintons were accused of smuggling furnishings from the White House when they moved out. Do tell.
I don’t think Trump would steal anything of real value, because the place looks rather understated compared to his compound in Florida. If anything, it’d be interesting to see what it would look like if he were to zhuzh up the house a little bit, to paraphrase Jonathan Van Ness: maybe a crossover between the Playboy Mansion and Graceland. The Blue Room redesigned into a gilded grotto with a koi pond. Inserting a donut elevator between the kitchen and the presidetial bedroom, for easy access for a late-night binge. Inviting King Charles to soak his mantits in the indoor champagne swimming pool. But I could imagine Ben&Jerry’s having a special shelf in the pantry of the new administration. I suggest the “Chunky Monkey” flavour, to match the character of the new head of state.
Hearing grand political statements from a food company is a little bit like listening to a priest reviewing communion wafers. Stick to what you do best, mate: talking to your supernatural Boss and talking inappropriately to altar boys. Whitney Houston famously said crack is whack. It’s time to give enthusiastic Democrats with ambitions for the White House at some time in the future a reality check: woke is broke. As a life-long liberal, it took me a while to learn it, but I got there in the end. Yes, there are quite a few people out there who read things into it that don’t have anything to do with its semantics, but only because it changed over time. Now synonymous with everything it shouldn’t be: performative activism, academic snobbery, suburban middle class and vloggers who think a ring light and a microphone are enough to turn you into the new Christiane Amanpour.
That’s the only explanation behind blunders like the ones major brands are prone to on social media when it comes to the public discourse. It’s one thing to participate in humanitarian efforts that put someone in need into focus, which might otherwise be unattainable to them. But it’s a completely different story when there’s an effort to behave like a de facto political party. That field’s overcrowded as it is anyway and unsolicited preaching is the last thing I need right now. As it turned out, I wasn’t the only one tired from this circus turned into the bulldozer that pancaked Kamala’s campaign. It helped exacerbate the precarious situation the party was stuck in, like an ideological equivalent of Bud Light. Colleen Ballinger’s ukulele could provide the tune for DNC’s public apology to their voters.
What Kamala and Biden need right now is a big scoop of humble pie-flavoured ice cream. I’m sure Ben & Jerry’s would be able to do it, but it’s unlikely they will if their Instagram is anything to go by. They’d first need to get rid of the taste of ass, a residue from all the ass-kissing they had to do to get their hands on a billion-dollar budget. It seems these people are a walking cautionary tale about how to lose in spite of all the money at their disposal. The question remains who’s next on the opinionated dessert menu: Waffle House? I’d love to see a midnight rally there, if their fights are anything to go by. Like a small-size equivalent of showdowns in Russian parliament. In the meantime, I’ll treat myself to a cup of tiramisu and pray for a sprinkle of sanity. We need it now more than ever. Yummy.
