I feel like Puddintopia posts should attempt to be at least somewhat informative, well thought-out, reasoned, entertaining (if not somewhat amusing), occasionally introspective, and/or, you know, not completely trivial. Basically, I like to have a point that might mean something to someone out there.
Today, we will have none of that.
As I spent most of my day on the dreaded cutting-and-pasting of screenshots into instructional PowerPoint presentations (for a good reason, mind you) and adding key notations as needed, my brain is largely kaput from All! The! Excitement!
In other words, the tedium completely eradicated whatever already microscopic slivers of creative thinking I might have tenuously possessed.
So then, rather than spending a few moments at the keyboard rambling on about something you might find interesting, I decided this was the perfect time to ask a burning question that almost no one else will care about.
What in the name of all that’s holy is up with the McRib?
I guess McDonald’s brought back the “legendary” McRib a few weeks ago, and since then I’ve caught snippets of conversation here and there very similar to the following exchange:
Person1: Dude, did you hear? The McRib is totally back!
Person2: No way, man! That is AWE-SOME. We gotta get us some McRib action right now!
Person1: Mmmm….tasty, tasty McRib!
Person2: I would totally marry a McRib if I could, but it might be all weird when I ate it. Plus, I’d have to cheat on it with other McRibs. Because a dude can’t live with just one McRib.
Person1: Totally, dude. Now, let’s go rock that McRibbage!
Person2: *drools* Sweeeeet!
Ok, so I’ll admit that I might have embellished some of that. And really, outside of the Bill and Ted movies, I’ve never heard anyone actually sound like Bill and Ted continuously. Certainly not while discussing fast food, limited time only or otherwise. But still, I have, on several occasions recently, heard otherwise intelligent people speak of the current availability of the McRib as if it’s one of the precursor events to the Rapture.
People, it’s a sandwich. It doesn’t cure disease, it can’t produce cold fusion, and the last time I checked it wasn’t endorsed by Justin Bieber*.
Look, I can understand if you want to get all fanboy crazy about a slab of baby backs or a pork shoulder you spent 15 hours lovingly smoking over hickory in your backyard last Sunday, spritzing it with a magic apple juice solution every few hours to ensure its perfection. But this isn’t a piece of meat you brought home and cared for diligently until it yielded sweet, juicy, smoky, goodness. No, no, this is a sandwich made by a burger conglomerate that may or may not actually contain any pork.
I mean, look, the thing is shaped like it’s supposed to resemble a rack of ribs. When was the last time you saw that shape occur bonelessly in nature? I suspect it was about the same time you caught that Leprechaun and he gleefully handed you his pot o’ gold.
Maybe if the thing was just round or just an oval, I might be able to deal with it. I could pretend it was a piece of tenderloin given the cutlet treatment. But those pressed bone tips sticking out of the “McRib Pork Patty”, dripping with more sauce than they used last year at the entire Buffalo Wing Festival? It just plain gives me the willies.
Yes, I tried one once, a few years back; I wanted to see what all the hub-bub was about. Obviously, I was not impressed. At the risk of inciting a mob of spork-wielding maniacs, I have to confess that I was reminded of the infamous mystery meat sandwich from high school. But with pickles. Pickles are a luxury no one is afforded in the high school lunch line.
At any rate, since my one failed McRib attempt, I’ve been completely unable to determine why everyone else talks about these things like they’re paradise made with BBQ flavor. Seriously, I saw one guy eye the local McDonald’s last week like a twitching junkie who just spotted his dealer on the corner.
I need this explained this to me, slowly. Because right now all I can figure is that McDonald’s is slipping narcotics under the bun, between the patty and pickles, and I got cheated outta my hit.
Look, I love pork, especially ribs. But until someone is willing to buy me a “legendary” lunch and show me why it’s so damn great, the only ribs I’ll be eating will be noticeably lacking the Mc.
I guess maybe I’m just a pork snob. But that’s okay with me.
Better a pork snob than a “Pork Patty.”
*Normally I would link a celebrity referenced in a post, but I’ll be damned if I’m gonna Google that name from my home PC. I’ll be spammed to the four corners of the Earth to subscribe to Teen Beat!.