WHY THE CRACKER BARREL FIASCO MATTERS

by Steven Goldsmith MD

WHY THE CRACKER BARREL FIASCO MATTERS

by Steven Goldsmith MD

We have been here before. Woke white girl boss of a major company spits in the faces of her loyal customers, a demographic she evidently holds in contempt. Just like the Marketing VP for Bud Light who sneered at those “fratty” toxic males and installed as their spokes-creature Dylan Mulvaney only to crash the brand and her career there. In the recent Cracker Barrel (CB) clownshow, the CEO replaced their iconic logo that depicted an overalled old-timer, Uncle Herschel, setting a spell against the eponymous barrel. She unveiled in its place a logo devoid of any graphics save the company name.

Why did this decision ignite a Category 5 backlash from the public, whose fury compelled the company to revert to its original logo? Uncle Herschel was a familiar image to CB’s devoted clientele, a comfort food to the eyes no less than their buttermilk pancakes are to the palate. And familiarity is CB’s identity—a place and menu redolent of Mom’s cooking, of grandad perched on the front porch watching the sun set as we kids played in the yard, of biking with buddies down to the creek to catch frogs, of family dinners around tables when intact families were a thing. Even if we never did any of that, these experiences are entrenched in our collective consciousness, shared memories of mythical communities, now mere inscriptions on gravestones, a sense in our bones that we once cared for and looked out for each other, that we were once a family in spirit.

And the nitwit of a CEO cancelled all that when she replaced the logo. She replaced the past. Our history; our identity. In so doing she betrayed disdain for the regular folks, especially those of flyover and rural America and the South, those bereft of Ivy diplomas who don’t consume soy or avocado toast, the “deplorables” as a psychopathic former girlboss once snarled.

But why did this woke CEO choose that particular logo to replace Herschel? Odd. You would think, given her ideology, that instead she would have devised a new graphic of, oh I don’t know, a pants-suited woman at a laptop, preferably black, or maybe a black or Latino man. Or what about a pair of hairy legs in a dress? However, she did none of that. Instead she created . . . nothing. Only letters. And that is the point. She erased the humanity.

This trend towards dehumanization is nowhere more apparent than in my profession of medicine. Patients in sterile examining rooms glimpse corporate physicians for 7 minutes at a pop—physicians they scarcely know; they receive prescriptions for sick parts of themselves, while computers regurgitate data reporting the status of scores of molecules in their bodies.

Dehumanization is the woke project, actually the globalist goal for which wokesters are “useful idiots.” Eliminate men; women; romance; non-electronic conversation; eye contact; heterosexual sex, which is the only kind that ensures a continuation of our species; religion; families; traditions; our nation. All gone, if they get their way, just like Uncle Herschel. Replaced by a dehumanized logo.

I don’t know about you, but next chance I get I will dig into Cracker Barrel’s grilled catfish with their “warm, hand-rolled buttermilk biscuits” and, if I ask nicely, a touch of gravy to remind me of the home I never had.

Be well.

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