Tag: excess

Excess on Parade

The lagoon was massive.

The body of water filled a space the size of six football fields.

Around its edges, tourists milled about. Street performers did their thing. And fancy hotel structures towered over the water.

At first glance, this man-made structure seemed like a mistake. A waste of valuable space and real estate.

But then the music would start. The tourists would take note. And the hustle and bustle would fade away.

For a few majestic moments, the lagoon would transform into a majestic fountain, with water shooting up to 400 feet in the air. The experience would leave everyone watching in a trance.

Yes, the Fountains at Bellagio are about as unnecessary an attraction as there is. Gallons upon gallons of water housed in the Nevada desert, whose only function is pure spectacle.

And yet, they’re as intractable a part of Las Vegas as slot machines, neon lights and showgirls. The essential of all essentials. Something so iconic that even the strait-laced, reclusive business traveler — that would be me — makes a point to seek it out.

It’s excess on parade. And we can’t get enough.

About 800 miles east of Las Vegas, a billboard rises menacingly over the open plains of the Texas Panhandle.

It tempts drivers passing through Amarillo on Interstate 40 to stop at the Big Texan Ranch and try the 72-ounce steak.

Such a cut of beef carries a hefty price, even out in the heartland. But those who polish it off in one sitting – along with a few preordained sides — can have their check comped. It turns out there is such a thing as a free meal.

I love Texas as much as anything, and a good steak as much as anyone. I would seem to be the right clientele to take this challenge on.

But as I drove by this billboard, I was nauseated.

I thought back to my teenage years, when McDonalds would goad me into Super Sizing my fries for additional sweepstakes entries. I’d feel worse and worse with each bite, as excess calories filled my stomach and excess regret consumed my mind.

The Big Texan Steak challenge wasn’t worth it. I wasn’t about to take it on.

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But clearly, some do.

There’s a reason that highway billboard is there. Just like there’s a reason why there are fountains in the desert.

Excess on parade is a powerful magnet.

Excess has always been in our DNA.

This nation’s beginnings were essentially an agrarian revolt. A group of mostly rural colonists objected against taxes levied by a faraway monarch. They decided to go it alone instead.

Yet, the Founding Fathers sold a vision far grander. The reframed our fledgling nation as a beacon for liberty and democracy. It was quite the overstatement for the actions of settlers who were tired of paying the crown.

This expression of excess morphed into a rallying cry in the decades that followed.

We decided that expanding westward was God’s will, displacing native tribes and Mexican settlers in the process. We lionized the titans of the Industrial Revolution, even as the front-line workers at their companies toiled away in squalid conditions. And we focused our gaze on the biggest, the brightest, and the most extraordinary. Nothing less would do.

All of that led us to the present moment. Where we’re expected to step into boots two sizes too big and fill them with ease.

This is not the world we live in. It’s the world we’ve created for ourselves.

Excess on parade is part of the fabric. Consequences be damned.

From my couch, I watched with a mix of horror and amazement.

On my television screen was the United States men’s soccer team. The finest of the Stars and Stripes were taking on a Belgian side at the World Cup in Brazil.

Well, more like chasing the Belgians.

Indeed, the Belgian strikers and forwards had a couple of steps on the closest American defenders for most of the game. They would waltz unimpeded toward the goal, only to be stymied by goaltender Tim Howard.

Howard made a remarkable 16 saves in that game — a record for any World Cup match.

But it wasn’t enough. The Americans lost the knockout-round game 2-1 in extra time. Their World Cup quest was over once again.

I was baffled.

America had dominated the world stage at every turn throughout my lifetime — and for a generation before it. Our nation had outsize influence on both the global economy and geopolitics. It had driven pop culture trends. And it brought home the most medals in nearly every Olympic games.

Yet, the United States was an afterthought when it came to World Cup soccer. Our nation had never won the tournament — or even played in the championship match. And now, a country whose population was 96 percent smaller had outclassed the best soccer stars America had to offer.

The United States invested plenty in avoiding this outcome. The U.S. Soccer Federation had invested plenty into training and player development.

But it didn’t matter. Howard’s brilliance was the only protection against total obliteration on the soccer pitch.

As I stared on in silence, I started questioning the principle of Excess on Parade. How valuable was it anyway?

Consider one of Belgium’s culinary delicacies – Frites. The same dish that we like to Super-Size actually originated across the pond.

Over the years, Belgians have perfected the art of the Frite. But instead of serving up piles of it at a time, they put a sensible amount into a paper cone, and serve it with dipping sauces.

The Belgians favor quality over quantity. They don’t participate in Excess on Parade.

These same principles have made their way to the Belgian soccer pitch. Instead of going all-in, sparing no expense to build a title contender, the Belgians focus on perfecting their craft. On doing just enough for the moment, and doing it well.

It might not be flashy. But it gets the job done.

And more often than not, we don’t.

It’s time.

It’s time to shed the illusions of grandeur. It’s time to do away with spectacle for spectacle’s sake.

It’s time to say goodbye to Excess on Parade.

For this pattern wastes much and achieves little.

It does us no favors. And we needn’t kowtow to it.

So, let’s chart a new course. Let’s write a new chapter. One free of high-volume, yet full of substance.

This new path might feel strange and unnerving at first. But it will fit just right.

And shouldn’t that be enough?

On Excess

How much is too much?

That’s a loaded question. One that varies by where you come from and who you are.

In collective cultures, what is enough to provide for your immediate circle is the upper limit. That means what’s enough to keep your family clothed, housed and fed. The bare necessities.

In individualistic cultures, what’s enough to live the good life is often the upper limit. That means enjoying more than just the requisite. It means taking advantage of fine cuisine, art or entertainment.

And in America? Well, there is no upper limit.

Our society is one built on excess. On taking all we can, and then taking some more.

It’s part of our heritage. Our westward expansion in the 1800s was dubbed Manifest Destiny. That wording transformed the forceful relocation of native tribes and the wars over Mexico’s northern territories from acts of savagery to actions ordained by God.

That spirit has stuck with us to the present day. Drive around Malibu in California or cruise around Star Island in Miami and you’ll see the temples we’ve built to celebrate excess. Mansions owned by the uber-rich — many of whom maintain lavish homes in other locations.

If you were to look in the master closets or garages of these mansions, you’d probably find extravagant clothes that are never worn and sports cars that are rarely driven.

If a utilitarian were to look at this scene, they’d consider it a waste of resources. But that’s precisely the point.

Excess is part of our DNA. It tells the story of who we are better than anything else.

Excess is what popularized the all-you-can-eat buffet and the 30 page menu at The Cheesecake Factory. Excess is what spawned the endless array of TV channels and smartphone apps. Excess is what built the city of Las Vegas into the shrine of decadence it is today.

Excess has appeal. Visitors from other societies find themselves drawn to it, by pure novelty, if nothing else. And emerging cities around the world have even emulated it, through the creation of elaborate skylines and other lavish features.

But excess has severe risks as well.

It’s unhealthy, it’s self-serving, and it’s unbecoming.

If we seek to be treated with dignity and build a legacy filled with reverence, our tendency toward excess is the biggest obstacle to realizing our dreams.

For excess makes us seem primal. Even animalistic.

How so? Consider a tangible example — alcohol consumption.

Imbibing alcoholic beverages has been a time honored tradition throughout human history. Tales of drinking stretch as far back as the Bible. And they’re featured prominently in ancient Greek mythology.

Even in the disjointed world that preceded transcontinental trade routes, alcohol consumption was common in several corners of the globe.

However, the way cultures approached the activity varied. And those variances have persisted into the modern era.

Collective cultures predominantly drink as a form of status. The context of the occasion tends to matter most — particularly in Asia, where familial social customs are critical in maintaining honor and identity. The fact that the beverage consumed at these gatherings happens to be alcoholic is immaterial.

Individualistic cultures predominantly drink for artisanal reasons. Think of the French pairing the right wine with their dinner, or the British enjoying a pint at the pub. Beverages are meant to be savored, even cherished. The attributes of the beverage chosen — taste, smell and fullness — matter as much as the act of drinking it.

And then, there’s America. Where pure volume consumed is the only measure that matters.

Our culture has turned drinking into an ugly form of competition. One replete with a tradition of overbearing peer pressure and a total lack of accountability.

Go to any lake or river and you’ll find people downing drinks by the dozen. Go to the club and you’ll find people ordering bottle service. Go to a wedding or holiday party and you’ll find people cycling back to the open bar, over and over.

Somewhere along the line, we’ve been taught to drink, drink and drink some more. To spend our free time hitting the bottle until we can’t taste what we’re putting into our bodies anymore. To transform our social interactions into inebriated soirees that we won’t remember the next day.

Those critical of this behavior have placed the blame in many corners. But I can find only one such source that best explains it — our culture of excess.

In a society that bends toward decadence, Go big or go home is a rallying cry. Not taking it to the max is considered a sin.

So, we don’t savor cold boozy beverages on a hot day. We force them down our throats it the way Kobayashi or Joey Chestnut inhale hot dogs. And then we down 5 more.

We keep at it until our bodies give in. Even if the end result is a raging headache and a list of regrets, it’s still better than the scorn we’d get for only sticking to a drink or two.

Both collective and individualistic cultures look at this behavior with horror. Getting drunk can be akin to losing face. And downing drinks three at a time is the antithesis of the artisanal credo.

Is it any wonder why American culture is frequently lampooned outside its borders? While other cultures are fascinated by the idea of excess, they’re also disgusted by our implementation of it.

Just as critically, our culture of excess is destroying us from the inside out. The prevalence of binge drinking has caused a trail of collateral damage that has destroyed lives. Our oversized food portions have helped lead to several health crises, from obesity to heart disease. And our desire for more, more, more has helped us get addicted to everything from caffeine to opioids.

By any measure, things are moving in the wrong direction. But there’s an easy way to reverse this trend: Embrace moderation.

This doesn’t mean giving up what we enjoy. It just means giving up on enjoying it endlessly.

It means taking a stand. No more will we clamor for more than we need. No longer will we succumb to the social and marketing pressures telling us that enough is never enough.

When we have enough to be comfortable, we should be comfortable enough to say no to temptation. To use our powers to help others rather than denigrate ourselves through needless decadence.

Some may call this un-American. And they might be right. After all, they have two centuries of history to point to as evidence.

But look around. Excess has caused more harm than good. We — the society that has it all— find ourselves more broken than ever these days.

Let’s put ourselves back together again. Let’s chart a new course.

One that starts with three words.

No. That’s enough.

Are you up for the challenge?