Thursday, September 17, 2009
I Want to Eat This and I Hate Myself For It
This is the new sandwich at KFC, it’s called the double down. If you’re wondering why you haven’t seen or heard of this, it’s because it’s only at select locations now, namely Providence, Rhode Island and Omaha, Nebraska. I can only assume this is so they can monitor the hospitals in those areas for any spikes in the number of heart attacks reported before they decide if this gastronomic monstrosity is safe.
Let me walk you through it. It’s a sandwich with chicken breasts for bread, and in the middle there are two kinds of cheese, bacon, and something called the Colonel’s sauce. This is the latest example in what I like to refer to as the post-“Super-Size Me” fast food steering-into-the-skid strategy. “Yeah, fast food is bad for you. We know it, you know it, so fuck it. Let’s see how bad we can make it before the FDA steps in. Come on, eat it, we dare you!”
The sad thing is, I want one so bad that my mouth is watering right now as I type this. I’ve been conditioned like a lab rat through years of fast food advertising. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not blaming them. I’m a weak-willed fat tub of goo, and it’s my own damn fault. I just wish I could get this worked up about something that was good for me. I always thought that biology made us like things that we needed. Sex feels good, so we’ll procreate. The features that we find attractive in the opposite sex are usually indicative of health and suitability to produce healthy children. Poison tastes bad, so we won’t eat it. If we do something bad to our bodies, we feel pain, so we’ll stop. So why then does all the food that’s killing us taste so good?
I’d love to go on, but it’s almost lunch time and I’m making myself hungry. Fuck it, how far is Rhode Island?