Discriminating Diners

And how would you like that burger?

After bashing the potato peeler made in China, it's only fair to say something good about the great country to the east, or west. (You'll bump into it whichever direction you choose to go.)
I'm a huge, as in fat, fan of Chinese food. There is not a single dish I don't like, and only one I can't look at while eating. That would be the cooked duck with the beloved head still attached, the little narrow eyes fixed on the last thing it ever saw.
The taste of Chinese food is awesome enough, but the presentation, except for the duck, is both appealing and sensible. Most dishes can be consumed with a pair of chopsticks or a pair of fingers. Chinese food IS what it IS. Never does the server ask, "And how would you like the duck cooked?" No options!
Americans have grown fussy about their food. It probably started with a mother, probably June Cleaver, who out of overwhelming love for Beaver asked, "Beave, would you like icing on your cookie? How about your milk, chocolate or regular?" That woman started a landslide of options. Up to that point, kids and dogs fought over table scraps. What was on the plate was what you ate.
Now kids and grownups alike are mealtime monsters. Mr. Rogers convinced them that they are special, and they want to be treated that way. Yesterday I offered a stale cookie to a grandson that was hanging around our house.
"Gee, Grandma, don't you have anything else, I'm on a gluten-free diet?"
Even at the fast food drive-in, patrons play entire games of chess on their phones while waiting for the cars ahead of them to move along. "I'll have that cheese burger with no cheese, extra mayo, hold the bun and onion."
Soon picky, over-indulged graduates of Mr. Rogers School for the Special will be holding up service at the Chinese restaurant.
"Could I have the fried rice with no egg, please, and extra sauce on the Mongolian chicken. Oh! and no bad news in my fortune cookie."