I guess we should be glad that a glorious, gorgeous, out-of-this-world, epicurean goddess like yourself would agree to do a commercial for a fast-food joint. Because even though you have a beating heart, two eyes… even though you drink, sleep, excrete, and screw, it’s hard for us to accept that you’re a real-live person, much less one of the people.
Okay, we can appreciate what’s going on here: the fact that you’ll soon be using that face to peddle sloppy burgers for Hardee’s/Carl’s Jr. (same beast) brings you down to Earth. It shows us your lowest common denominator. It proves that processed meats and sesame seed buns are not just for the ignorant, saddle-bagged, Tuna Helper masses of Middle America, but also for famous, particular, beautiful, elegant TV hosts from Manhattan. It’s meant to show us that this famous author’s ex-wife is real, and for that matter, so is Hardee’s. Now everybody, rich or poor, finicky or not, has the ability to get real along with you. Yeah. That’s really lovely.
But Padma. We feel that despite the motivation, you’re better than this. You do not want to take career cues from Paris Hilton. We’ve watched enough Top Chef to know that these quick burgers are not up to your standards, even after a bottle of wine (trust us, we’ve eaten enough of them for anybody). More importantly, we’ve never actually seen a commercial of this ilk that made us want to even eat food–in fact, they almost always inspire waves of nausea and a lasting aversion to the sound of chewing.
Maybe your “beautiful love song to food” will be enough to change our minds. But at the moment, we’re hard-pressed to truly believe that.
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