Thursday, March 25, 2004

For reasons unfathomable I ingested a double Filet-o-Fish during lunch today, gentle reader, and I feel positively woozy right now. Perhaps it was the peer pressure, the unbidden draw of everyone doing it–and lovin’ it, as the red-haired demon’s PR department would have you believe–that made me pop for some fish product. And fish “product” is cunningly vague because I could’ve been eating trout, salmon, dolphin, or even marmot, for the love of Grimace.

That’s the unholy appeal of McDonald’s, I suppose. The food is so modestly priced that you cannot help but grab your wallet and stuff some money into Ronald’s gaping maw. You eat, you drink, you wipe your fingers, and twenty minutes later it dawns on you: the Hamburglar just made you his bitch, and all you could do was ask for extra sweet n’ sour sauce. Ahoy, mateys! I spy a heart attack on the horizon.