The Culinary Institute of America
For as long as I can remember, I always wanted to be a “chef.”
In my teens and 20s I had a passionate interest in foreign cultures, their traditions, their languages. And the propagandization of my childhood had led me to believe chefs were heroic, mission-driven professionals who loved their country, while serving food for thought to leadership.
After college I bought a one-way ticket to the Middle East. I spent two years learning Arabic, writing speeches and reports for various NGOs and a Palestinian-Jordanian business magnate. I ingratiated myself into the culture and tried to grasp its nuances for the sake of my own curiosity. No one sponsored my trip, but I had some help making connections early-on through family friends. I had to figure out the rest on my own.
Upon my return home, I moved to Washington DC and applied to the Culinary Institute of America (CIA), because it was one of the preeminent institutions this country has to offer. I thought I might help dissidents “self-determine” by mixing the perfect Molotov cocktail for unsuspecting party guests. Or perhaps I would get the tea on some dignitary in order to prevent abuse of a “marginalized group”. Maybe I’d stay stateside, drafting recipes and keep up with current events in the culinary world. While in DC, I was invited to a couple of introductory cooking courses where I met with various chefs who said my skills could be useful. My hope was to learn more about Middle Eastern cuisine and possibly figure out the secret recipe to Iranian Yellow Cake.
Working for the CIA would’ve given me the chance to have the life I thought I wanted: a life of travel, purposeful work which advanced something greater than myself, and payoff for the gamble I took by going to Jordan in the first place. It took approximately two years of processing and waiting as I managed my actual career, before being dis-invited from the opportunity. And for nearly a decade after, I believed it my duty not discuss this with anyone. But then I came to truly understand how decisions are made on behalf of the oligarchy that runs America; and I learned the most valuable, actionable dish served to our country’s leadership is a grotesque and time-tested offering: cheese pizza. I suppose that’s the only food available on an island in the Bahamas.
Alright, enough puns.
I put my faith in a system with the intent to serve my country. Its mission was purposeful. It was greater than me, it was greater than all people living within it. With proper care the State would survive the test of time. The State stood for justice and truth. I idealized these institutions as the foundation for which we, as Americans, are bound to uphold. We have so little else in common: race, religion, sportsball affiliations; liberal vs conservative, Apple vs Android. I believed that because we Americans differ on so much, it was through the common respect of the other’s journey, so to speak, that we were united. Thus, I believed that government service, particularly through the CIA, was the highest achievement.
When my path with the government ended in rejection, I felt rudderless; what was the point of going to Jordan, if it didn’t land me my dream career? Ironically, when I applied to the State Department (which was the job I told everyone I was waiting on) I didn’t even pass the written test; my written communication skills score was too low. Ouch and LOL — GFY, dorks.
In hindsight, I couldn’t be more grateful that things did not go as planned. Instead, over the last decade, I’ve sold real estate, managed a thrift store, written haikus about my interactions with shoplifters, and sold more real estate — hardly the cloak and dagger fantasy of my youth.
I think it’s important that now I lay my cards on the table about this closely held secret (that everyone in my circle pretty much knew, even if they couldn’t confirm it). And it’s because I’ve spent a lot of time reflecting on what a career in service of the State would have truly meant. It doesn’t take much investigation to realize that the misrepresentations by Hollywood, fiction writers, “retired” intelligence offers in media are just that: misrepresentations. Who benefits from the services offered by these clandestine, secretive organizations, truly?
For my entire adult life, the United States has spilled blood and treasure in the Middle East — and who is better for it? What of Iraq as a result of the Bush Administration’s WMD fabrication? How have Libyans and Syrians fared as a result of Peace-Prize Obama’s foreign policy? What is the United States entitled to in Syria? Should Syrians be grateful for the TOW missiles and logistical support we gave to Nusra Front? I personally met some of the guys responsible for training these savages — who kept women as slaves and burned prisoners alive.
Look at how we left Afghanistan. If you served in the military or intelligence services, and consider yourself a patriot — or if you have a brain and believe in justice — how can you look at what happened upon our exit and not be heartsick? We betrayed our on-the-ground interpreters and allies. We turned them away and allowed them be executed in sight of U.S. Marines protecting the perimeter of Kabul Airport. Are we not our brothers’ keepers? It appears not.
I’m writing about this now because just last weekend one of our military outposts was attacked in Jordan and three Americans are dead — it could be the final domino in our stumble toward yet another war. Another fucking war. Another. Fucking. War.
The chicken-hawks are home and they are roosting. The commissars are rallying. Cowards you wouldn’t trust to walk your dog are in control of our most important institutions. Only our corruption through passivity and silence has led us to this point. Our political tribes have almost no bearing on this road to hell we’ve been on. It’s our individual tolerance of this slow-rolling tyranny that has led us here. Only in my mid thirties, when I came back to God, did I realize the error of my pursuit to serve the State, which had become so obviously corrupt. It opened my eyes to this fundamental truth: no matter your intent, you cannot make the world a better place through a life led by lies and deception.
America is again on the brink of the next new normal. No one is coming to save us. Think of today as September 10, 2001. Should we take a different path? What would it mean to stop this madness? To show courage.
“If...if...We didn't love freedom enough. And even more – we had no awareness of the real situation.... We purely and simply deserved everything that happened afterward.”
- Alexandr Solzhenitsyn, The Gulag Archipelago