There’s a McDonalds in the hospital in downtown Macon where I grew up. After school on Fridays, a couple friends and I would walk there after school, get ice cream sundaes and French fries and shoot the breeze, dream about the future and laugh about the past. Sounds like a proper commercial, doesn’t it? Well, except for it being in the hospital and all, with the pregnant women sitting in the smoking room for fag after fag, right next to us. That’s the deal with symbols, or simulacra, or whatever McDonalds is: what they stand for is true on one side, and just as real on the other.
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