The Big Cheese

I was at the natural grocery store down the street from my house the other day when I noticed something that piqued my interest. While perusing the cheese and bread aisles, I noticed an unnatural phenomenon. In front of me, on a shelf all its own, sat a block of cheese. It was not the fact that a single piece of cheese occupied an entire shelf that intrigued me. It was not that it was some extraordinary brand of cheese aged in the isolated mountains of Switzerland by ancient natives. No, the characteristic of this cheese which caught my attention related to its physical dimensions. It was not so much a block, as it was a three foot by three foot cube of cheese. An immense consolidation of dairy in solid form occupying its own shelf . . . with a bow tied around it. A bow, as if the shear size of the culinary mammoth was not sufficient to catch your attention. As I passed the cube I actually found myself stopping and retracing my steps to examine exactly what was in front of me.

Nine cubic feet of cheese. Picture it. Let the full impact settle. What does it mean to our existence that such an item is available for the public to purchase. Who, exactly, goes to the local grocery store in search of nine cubic feet of cheese. 1,552 cubic inches of processed milk, available to the first person lucky enough to fork over the money. And, by the way, this was no cheap behemoth. In order to go home with your five year supply of cheese, a patron would have to tender $1,200.00. Now, try to imagine the type of person who would make this purchase. Not only would they need $1,200, but they would also need to devise a method for consuming such a quantity of dairy before mold set in. I suppose a person could leave the cheese out on the coffee table with a few spoons for casual events. "Hey, Mike, nice cheese cube," friends would say every time they came over, "can I get a spoon?" It would become a virtual barometer for your social success, every missing spoonful representing a newfound friend. Or, maybe it would be useful as an artistic medium. Imagine cheese busts of famous icons: a munster Marilyn Monroe, a cheddar Charlie Chaplin, a parmesan Pablo Picasso.

My interest went beyond the mere existence of the cheese cube and I began focusing on deeper meaning in the miracle of dairy achievement that sat in front of me. Of course, most smaller blocks of cheese originate from larger ones. Entire processing plants are dedicated to cutting large blocks of cheese into smaller ones, into slices, into shreds. I like to imagine the life of cheese as an analogy for our social structure. Think of the larger blocks as an unindividuated community of cheese. This larger block represents a Marxist utopia where all cheeses are equal and get to share in the glory of the whole. When they are sliced and divided, however, caste systems develop. Bricks still exist, occupying the top echalon while shredded cheese is relegated to the status of proletariat, forced to adorn nothing better than pizza and enchiladas. Without access to the means of production, these lesser cheeses have no opportunity for advancement aside from outright Marxist revolution.

This cube of cheese in front of me represented nothing less than the ideal of socialism, a united community dedicated to one goal, to be the best cube of cheese possible. A realization of the philosophy of Marx and Engels found in my local grocery store. I can imagine that such cubes of cheese do not exist outside of liberal enclaves like Berkeley. In middle America, the socialist ideals engendered in this cube would be seen as anti-American. Right wing talk show hosts would spread rumors about the cube being allied with Al Queda. "We have verified reports of Bin Laden eating cheese on a regular basis." "Insurgents seen trading cheese for guns." "Stockpiles of cheese found in Saddam's secret hideout verify claims of WMD's . . ." Special commissions would be set up to investigate the cheese ties to international terrorism. People would start distancing themselves from associations with known cheeses as a new era of McCarthyism arose. PETA, sensing an opportunity, would distribute black uniforms to all members and encourage marches down the street, chanting epithets while detaining suspicious persons . . . but, I digress. Cheese is cheese is cheese is cheese is cheese.