For a guy that has never outwardly done anything wrong, Guy Fieri sure seems to take a lot of heat (no flame shirt pun intended). You’d think maybe he attacked a customer at a restaurant or driven a small mom and pop shop out of business on purpose. But people seem to hate Guy just for being Guy. He’s become the Nickelback of chefs: the punchline to a joke that doesn’t need to be made. A person that doesn’t really make the kind of products I want to consume, but isn’t necessarily shoving them down my throat. Just like Nickelback’s music, Guy’s presence isn’t overbearing enough to become unavoidable—You can turn off the radio. You could not put on the Food Network. Why are you anywhere near his restaurant in Times Square? Why are you even in Times Square? Run. Run away. It’s so easy.
But why has one man become the epicentre of so much snark and ire? Is it because he isn’t interested in fine dining? Most of the people I know that make Guy Fieri jokes would eat day old pizza off of the street if no one was looking. Or maybe it’s how he presents himself. Let’s face it, Guy Fieri is the definition of id. He’s everything we wish we could be. He’s loud. He’s in your face. He’ll create something called “donkey sauce” and your kids will eat it. He’ll wear flip flops in the winter. Most of us are so concerned with our Instagram feeds and exactly how our pants fit while Guy is busy traipsing through his 5 television shows wearing exclusively cargo shorts. Guy Fieri is you. Guy Fieri is me. Guy Fieri is America.
Maybe you’d be right if you said he kind of talks like a knob, looks like the assistant to the assistant manager at a Guitar Center, and bites into food less like a human and more like a super horny boa constrictor. He’s kind of like your weird uncle—You don’t want to see him every day but it’s always a good time to hear the wacky shit that comes out of his mouth. If we learned anything from 80’s sitcoms it’s that you take the good, you take the bad, you take them both and there you have the facts of life. Here’s a fun fact about me: I’d much rather watch an episode of Diners, Drive-ins and Dives than see Tootie try to rollerskate or whatever she’s up to. In each and every episode of Triple D (that’s what us Fieriheads call it), Guy showcases local businesses and brings national recognition to people who are doing great things for their neighborhoods. He’s helping little guys get a leg up instead of just showing you how they make the slimy meat tubes for Subway. What have you done to get the boots off of the collective throat of the proletariat lately?
I’m begging you.—buy a roundtrip ticket to Flavortown. I assure you it won’t be a bad vacation. You might not even need that second half of the ticket. Plus, you’ll probably be too full of donkey sauce to even get on the plane.
This content was originally published here.