A SATIRICAL LOOK AT FAST FOOD, UNHEALTHY EATING, AND THE PRICE WE PAY
Some illustrations are created simply to entertain. Others are designed to make people laugh before forcing them to confront an uncomfortable truth. And then there are those drawings that combine humor, social criticism, frustration, and a sincere desire to make people think about the decisions they make every day.
The Joys of Gluttony! belongs to that last category.
When I created this illustration around 2005, I wanted to capture the attention of people who had become so accustomed to fast food that they rarely stopped to consider what they were putting into their bodies. I wanted to take something familiar, something that millions of people recognize immediately, and turn it into a satirical character who could deliver a message that might otherwise be ignored.
That character became Ronald McGhetto, the fictional spokesman for my imaginary restaurant, McGhettoz: Fine Urban Cuisine.
The restaurant’s slogan might sound sophisticated, but its products tell a very different story. The featured attraction is the SlimeBurger, accompanied by greasy food, oversized portions, and a cup of sweet tea labeled “Pancreas Killer Sweet Tea.” Beneath the burger, the advertisement proudly announces: “More Salt! More Grease! More Sugar!” And for those who want to know what comes next, the answer is equally blunt: “Hypertension! Heart Attacks! Diabetes!”
I wasn’t interested in making a pretty advertisement. I wanted to create an advertisement that exposed the potential consequences hiding behind the glossy promises of fast-food marketing.
WHY I CREATED RONALD MCGHETTO
When people hear the word ghetto, many immediately associate it with poor urban neighborhoods, particularly Black communities in America. The word has a longer and more complicated history, including its historical association with Jewish communities. Nevertheless, I knew the associations many Americans would make when they encountered the name McGhettoz.
I deliberately used that familiar association to make the illustration immediately recognizable to the audience I wanted to reach.
I was thinking about people living in inner-city neighborhoods who might be working long hours, raising families, struggling to make ends meet, and trying to stretch limited incomes. When someone is constantly under pressure to survive financially, convenience can become a priority. A quick meal from a fast-food restaurant may seem easier and more affordable than taking the time to prepare something at home.
I understood that reality. I wasn’t trying to suggest that every person who eats fast food is lazy, ignorant, or unconcerned about their health. My concern was that unhealthy eating can become so routine that people stop questioning it. What begins as an occasional convenience can gradually become a regular habit.
And when that happens, I believe we have a responsibility to examine the forces encouraging those habits.
Why are so many advertisements designed to make oversized portions, excessive sugar, and greasy foods look irresistible? Why do we spend so much money promoting products without giving equal attention to the importance of understanding their nutritional consequences?
Those were the kinds of questions I wanted my illustration to provoke.
TURNING FAST-FOOD ADVERTISING AGAINST ITSELF
One of the things I enjoyed about this drawing was the opportunity to create my own fictional fast-food mascot.
Rather than simply criticizing an existing restaurant advertisement, I decided to invent an entire brand around the behavior I wanted to satirize. Ronald McGhetto became the smiling salesman, the friendly face of a restaurant that would supposedly serve up everything a health-conscious person should think twice about consuming regularly.
Look at the way the character presents the food. He holds an enormous burger toward the viewer as though he is inviting us to take a bite. In his other hand, he carries a platter loaded with additional food. His expression is cheerful, his presentation is confident, and his restaurant appears ready to welcome customers.
Yet the words surrounding him undermine that cheerful presentation.
The fictional restaurant boasts about salt, grease, and sugar while simultaneously advertising the very health problems that excessive consumption of these ingredients can contribute to. The humor comes from the contradiction. A conventional advertisement might promise happiness, satisfaction, and convenience. Mine effectively promises a trip to the doctor’s office.
I wanted the audience to recognize the absurdity.
The illustration’s central joke is that Ronald McGhetto is selling the consequences along with the meal. The customer isn’t merely purchasing a burger. In the satirical world of McGhettoz, the customer is being invited to purchase a collection of unhealthy habits and their potential long-term consequences.
That was the point of creating the fictional brand. I could exaggerate the sales pitch until its underlying contradiction became impossible to ignore.
THE SLIMEBURGER AND THE MUSTY-BREATH PROMISE
The SlimeBurger is the centerpiece of the drawing. Even its name is intended to make the viewer question the food being presented.
On the right side of the illustration, Ronald McGhetto delivers his own ridiculous sales pitch:
“By eating my SlimeBurger every day you will find even more sticky mayonnaise in the corner of your eyes upon waking up in the morning as well as working wonders for your musty breath!”
That statement is deliberately ridiculous. I wanted the language to sound like an advertisement while describing something that no sensible restaurant would actually promote as a benefit.
The mayonnaise joke adds another layer of absurdity. Instead of promising freshness and vitality, Ronald McGhetto boasts about waking up with sticky residue in the corners of your eyes and having unpleasant breath. The more closely the viewer reads the advertisement, the more ridiculous the entire operation becomes.
I wanted the humor to pull people into the illustration. Once they were looking, reading, and laughing, they would encounter the more serious message about eating habits and health.
That is something I have always appreciated about satire. Sometimes a person who would dismiss a lecture about nutrition might be willing to stop and study a funny drawing. Humor can open a door that a direct accusation leaves closed.
And once that door opens, the message has an opportunity to reach the viewer.
WHY I WAS PARTICULARLY CONCERNED ABOUT BLACK COMMUNITIES
My frustration extended beyond the individual act of eating a burger. I was concerned about the broader circumstances in which unhealthy food choices were being made, especially in communities already facing economic and social challenges.
I wanted young people to look at the drawing and ask themselves whether the foods they consumed regularly were helping or harming them. I wanted parents to think about the habits being established in their households. I wanted people who were rushing from one obligation to another to recognize that convenience should not automatically take priority over long-term well-being.
Black communities have faced many challenges involving access to health information, economic opportunity, and affordable food options. Those circumstances deserve serious attention. Individual choices matter, but so do the environments in which those choices are made.
A person working long hours for a modest income may not have the same time, resources, or access to healthy options as someone in a more comfortable financial position. Telling people to eat better is not enough if we refuse to examine the conditions that influence what they can realistically buy and prepare.
That was part of the frustration behind my drawing. I wanted to challenge a culture in which unhealthy products could be aggressively promoted while the long-term consequences of unhealthy eating received far less attention in the advertisements themselves.
I also wanted to challenge the tendency to accept what we are repeatedly shown without asking questions. When a message is delivered through attractive packaging, familiar characters, catchy slogans, and expensive advertising campaigns, it can become part of our everyday lives before we stop to examine it critically.
The question I wanted to raise was simple: Are we making informed decisions about what we consume, or are we simply responding to what has been marketed to us?
MY CONCERNS ABOUT MEDICINE AND THE HEALTHCARE INDUSTRY
The illustration also reflected my broader distrust of an approach to healthcare that, in my view, can place too much emphasis on treating illness after it develops rather than preventing avoidable health problems in the first place.
When I see people struggling with conditions associated with poor nutrition and unhealthy habits, I believe prevention deserves far greater attention. Understanding what we eat, maintaining a balanced diet, staying physically active, and seeking appropriate medical guidance can all play important roles in protecting our health.
I was frustrated by what I perceived as a contradiction: unhealthy food products could be marketed aggressively, yet the consequences of poor eating habits might eventually leave individuals dealing with medical expenses, medications, and repeated visits to healthcare providers.
That contradiction made me question the priorities of a society in which commercial interests can sometimes overshadow public well-being.
I have also held concerns about whether economically disadvantaged communities receive the attention and quality of care they deserve. Those concerns are part of my broader social commentary, and they are worth examining seriously.
However, it is important to distinguish criticism of financial incentives within healthcare from the claim that doctors or pharmaceutical companies deliberately make people sick for profit. Such claims require specific evidence. My drawing was a satirical expression of my frustration with the system as I perceived it, rather than proof of a coordinated effort to harm any particular population.
What I wanted to communicate was that people should not surrender responsibility for their health to advertising, commercial interests, or the assumption that medical treatment can always compensate for unhealthy habits.
I wanted prevention to become part of the conversation long before illness became a crisis.
EVEN THE INCARCERATED DESERVE BETTER FOOD
There was another dimension to my thinking that might not be immediately apparent from the illustration.
At the time I created this piece, I was working for the Orange County corrections department in Florida. My observations about food and health extended to people who were incarcerated, a population whose daily living conditions and food choices are largely controlled by the institutions responsible for their custody.
I questioned whether the food provided in correctional facilities always received sufficient attention to nutritional quality. People who are incarcerated cannot simply choose another institution or freely prepare their own meals whenever they wish. Their access to food is determined largely by the systems in which they live.
That makes the quality of institutional meals particularly important.
I was concerned about the possibility that poor nutritional standards could contribute to long-term health problems among people who already had limited control over their circumstances. I also wondered about the ingredients and nutritional value of some of the food being served.
Those were concerns I wanted people to consider, although I cannot establish from this illustration alone that correctional food suppliers deliberately designed meals to cause infertility, impotence, illness, or easier behavioral control. Those are serious allegations that would require evidence beyond suspicion.
Nevertheless, the underlying question remains legitimate: When an institution controls what people eat, what responsibility does it have to ensure that the food it provides supports their health?
That question extends beyond prisons. It applies to schools, hospitals, nursing homes, workplaces, and every other setting where people depend on an institution for their meals.
Food is not simply a matter of convenience. It is a basic part of human well-being.
CREATING ART INSIDE A CORRECTIONAL FACILITY
One of the most memorable parts of this illustration’s history has little to do with hamburgers. It has to do with the people who watched me create it.
Around 2005, I was working at the Orange County corrections facility in Florida. My duties included activities such as cell checks, hospital runs, and visits involving attorneys. In the intervals between those responsibilities, I sometimes found time to sit at my desk and work on my drawings.
I also worked on my artwork at home and wherever else I found an opportunity. I carried my illustrations in a sturdy cardboard folder, which I protected inside a plastic bag to help shield the paper from moisture and rain.
I took the protection of those drawings seriously. They represented time, effort, and ideas that I wanted to bring into the world.
What surprised me was how many incarcerated men became interested in watching the artwork develop.
They would observe the drawing as it progressed from an unfinished outline into a detailed illustration. Some watched the individual pencil marks and ink strokes appear. They saw the shading develop and the different elements gradually come together.
And when I finished a piece, I sometimes allowed them to hold it and pass it among themselves.
That experience created a bond between us that I still remember.
Think about it for a moment. These men could have handled the drawings carelessly or damaged them. Instead, many treated the opportunity to hold my work with respect. They understood that they had watched something develop from its earliest stages, and that made the finished piece meaningful to them in a different way.
It was almost as though they felt they had participated in the artwork’s journey simply by witnessing its creation.
I remember the feeling as being similar to the trust a mother places in someone when she allows that person to hold her newborn child. It was not that a drawing and a child are the same thing. It was the feeling of entrusting something you have created to another person and believing that it will be treated with care.
For me, those moments were deeply meaningful.
The men had seen the drawing take shape before their eyes. They knew it had not simply appeared as a finished image on a screen. They had witnessed the process, the time, and the attention that went into making it.
And in those moments, the artwork became more than a piece of paper. It became a shared experience between the artist and the people who had watched him work.
THE VALUE OF THE ORIGINAL DRAWING
There is another reason I am pleased to preserve these illustrations beyond simply posting the images online.
A digital copy allows people to see the composition, read the lettering, and appreciate the finished image. But it cannot fully reproduce the experience of holding the original drawing in your hands.
The original was created on Bristol board, and the combination of ink and pencil gives the surface a particular character. When you tilt the paper and examine it under the light, you can see the marks, the shading, and the way the materials interact.
You can observe the physical evidence of the artist’s hand.
A reproduction preserves the image, but the original also preserves the physical process through which that image came into existence. Every line, every patch of shading, and every small correction represents a moment in the work’s development.
That is something I hope people will appreciate as they explore this archive. These drawings were not generated by a computer. They were created through the patient process of putting pencil and ink to paper, making decisions, and gradually developing an idea into a finished piece.
The digital archive allows the work to reach people who may never have the opportunity to handle the original. At the same time, I want to preserve the story of how these illustrations were made and what they meant to me when I created them.
The image is important, but the history behind it is important too.
TWENTY-ONE YEARS LATER, THE MESSAGE REMAINS RELEVANT
Looking back at The Joys of Gluttony! today, I can see that the central idea was never really just about a hamburger.
It was about the relationship between marketing and human behavior. It was about the ease with which repeated messages can influence our habits. It was about the responsibility we have to question what we are encouraged to consume, whether that consumption involves food, entertainment, products, or ideas.
I created this drawing around 2005, and approximately twenty-one years have passed. Yet the questions that inspired it still deserve consideration.
What are we putting into our bodies? Do we understand the nutritional consequences of our regular eating habits? Are we making choices that support our long-term well-being? And are the companies selling us products giving us enough reason to consider the consequences of consuming them regularly?
These are questions that each person must answer within the realities of their own circumstances.
I am not suggesting that every fast-food meal will destroy someone’s health or that people should be ashamed of enjoying a burger. My criticism is directed at habitual excess, the normalization of unhealthy eating, and the failure to take long-term consequences seriously.
There is a difference between enjoying a meal occasionally and allowing a pattern of consumption to undermine your health over time.
That distinction is important.
My illustration uses exaggeration because satire needs to make its point visible. Ronald McGhetto is not intended to be a realistic nutritionist or a scientific authority. He is a fictional salesman who represents the absurdity of promoting unhealthy excess as though there were no consequences.
His ridiculous promises are meant to make viewers stop, laugh, and then think.
And if the drawing encourages even one person to examine their eating habits more carefully, ask more questions about the food they purchase, or take preventive health measures more seriously, then it has served a useful purpose.
WHY I AM PRESERVING THIS PIECE
I have decided to preserve this illustration because it represents more than a particular opinion I held two decades ago. It captures a period in my life when I was working in corrections, finding opportunities to create art, and using satire to express my observations about the world around me.
It also preserves the memories of the people who watched me work and the unexpected connections that developed through those drawings.
That part of the story matters to me just as much as the finished image.
I want readers to understand that the artwork emerged from a real person living a real life, working a real job, observing people, questioning social conditions, and trying to communicate ideas through the tools available to him.
The drawing may be humorous, but the concerns behind it were sincere. I wanted people to think more carefully about what they ate, how commercial messages influenced their decisions, and why prevention deserved greater attention in discussions about health.
I also wanted to reach people who might never sit down to read a lengthy article about nutrition or social responsibility. A satirical drawing can communicate an idea in a matter of seconds. Sometimes that first moment of recognition is enough to encourage a person to look more closely.
That is the power I have always seen in this kind of artwork.
The Joys of Gluttony! invites us to laugh at Ronald McGhetto, but the larger question is whether we are willing to examine the habits and assumptions that make his fictional restaurant believable in the first place.
If nothing else, I hope this illustration reminds people that the decisions we repeat every day can have consequences that extend far beyond the moment of satisfaction.
