I don’t mean to alarm anyone, but I have actual, documented proof that Carl’s Jr. is trying to kill each and every one of us, sandwich by lethal sandwich.
Yeah, you laugh. But did you ever stop to ask yourself, “Hmm, I wonder whatever happened to Carl Sr.?” I think it’s becoming transparently evident what happened to Old Carl. He ate his kid’s cooking.
This isn’t supposed to be some sermon regarding the evils of fast food. As a card-carrying overweight American male, I’m already familiar with that testimony. I’ve read “Fast Food Nation” while swallowing a couple of shameful excuses for burritos assembled by bitter dropouts at Taco Bell. I’ve made that pitiful mad dash to the Wienerschnitzel for dinner at 11 p.m., bolting from a home filled with healthy meal options and darting towards that weenie shack as if it were a bug zapper just to eat a few shriveled samples of saturated fat they claim to be “chili dogs.”
But this is different. This goes beyond some entrepreneur trying to hock his wares on weak-willed fatties like me. Carl Karcher wants us all dead, and he’s willing to put any random-ass combination he or his legion of Chemical Alis can think of on a bun to make it happen.
A couple of years ago, I warned my friends of a disturbed little sandwich Carl was peddling called “The Six-Dollar Burger.” This pathetic, charred morsel showed exactly how badly man could screw up cow meat. It featured a burned patty, robbed of every last drop of moisture it had ever seen, smothered in imitation cheese and shoved angrily between two halves of flavorless, sponge-like bread coated with sesame seeds. Carl was charging his customers $3.99 for The Six-Dollar Burger, which reminded me all too clearly that marketing people should be permanently relocated to an iceberg somewhere.
Little did I know that The Six-Dollar Burger was nothing more than Carl Karcher’s introductory weapon of mass destruction in his fight against the American public. He would go on to mask the burger-briquette in a number of disguises – guacamole, bacon, chili, smallpox, etc. – and lob it out drive-through windows at us like Molotov cocktails. Leave no aorta unclogged, thought Chemical Carl.
A couple of weeks ago, I saw a commercial on a sports broadcast – Chemical Carl loves killing sports fans most of all – for some new product he is pimping called “the pastrami burger.” The pastrami burger, I would come to learn, is an actual burger adorned with lunchmeat. Carl had finally done it. He had come up with a way to dress a meat sandwich with more meat. Somewhere in the underground laboratory that Carl’s Jr. uses as a test kitchen, hateful scientists are working on dastardly creations like “the bacon pastrami burger” and “the-entire-ham-sandwiched-between-two-meat-patties-and-served-with-bread-as-a-napkin burger.”
But now they’ve gone too far. They’ve combined their hatred for Americans with our country’s love of breakfast. They are now trying to make us eat something they gleefully refer to as “a coffee shop on a bun.” I swear I’m not making this up.
The recipe for this sandwich, which I’m sure was found in a library book checked out by aspiring terrorists trying to make explosives out of steer manure, is as follows:
Step 1: Get yourself a hamburger bun.
I should point out right now that this is the only time this recipe ever even remotely sounds healthy.
Step 2: Slather ketchup on the bottom of the bun.
Well, OK. We’re not totally lost yet. Reagan actually tried convincing us once upon a time that ketchup was, at least theoretically, a vegetable. If Carl stops here, we have a rather unfulfilling open-faced ketchup sandwich that probably satisfies few nutritional guidelines, but remains reasonably harmless. But wait …
Step 3: Take some tater tots, cook them, smash them, and add them to the sandwich.
It should be noted here that Carl and his angels of death do not serve up what normal people would refer to as “hash browns.” They also don’t serve up what two of the world’s more famous clowns – Ronald McDonald and that guy from Jack in the Box – refer to as “hash browns,” either. Carl squishes tater tots in true “I’m crushing your head” fashion and refers to them as hash browns. It should also be noted that sandwiches should not include deep-fried potatoes as ingredients.
Step 4: Fry a whole chicken egg in a pool of hot grease, and put that egg on top of the smashed tater tots once the yolk is hardened like a customer’s artery.
This is what makes Carl a pure genius. Most evil fast-food masterminds put their greasy fried eggs directly on their buns so the hot fat can fill the pores of the bread. Carl, he puts greasy fried potatoes on the bread, but then puts a greasy fried egg on top of the potatoes to replace the grease they’ve shared with the bread. If they ever come up with a Nobel Prize for the Advocacy of Animal Fat, Carl is a shoo-in.
Step 5: Fry up a patty of pork sausage. Don’t even think about draining the fat. Put this fatty fried sausage patty on top of the egg.
What, no cheese?
Step 6: Top the sausage patty with a slice of imitation cheese.
My poor heart spoke far too soon. Pardon me. I was blinded by the shimmer of pork fat. When the light hits it just right, it is quite pretty.
Step 7: On top of the cheese, strategically place two slices of bacon in a criss-cross pattern.
Heaven forbid one gets a bite of Carl’s Clog without tasting the smoky nitrates of bacon as it mingles gleefully with the sausage. Maybe they came from the same pig.
Step 8: It’s time for more ketchup. Load up, pilgrim.
If you’re trying to make this sandwich at home, it may have fallen through the counter and killed your downstairs neighbor by now. Please be careful. Gravity is no friend of this sandwich.
Step 9: Open an entire pack of hot dogs and top the whole damn thing with wieners. This part is difficult, so pretend like you’re playing Jenga. You’ll get them all on there.
Yeah, I made up Step 9. Like you can tell the difference.
Step 10: Top with the other half of the bun, wrap it in barbed wire and asbestos, and lob it at thy foe.
Admit it … doesn’t the other half of the bun seem pointless by now? They tried topping the sandwich with a whole prime rib, but it was hard to grip.
I should point out that I’ve visited the Carl’s Jr. Web site, but I’m not entirely convinced the sausage patty is actually sausage. It might be a burger patty. I don’t think they’re sticklers about such details. Meats is meats.
Should you decide to try to down one of these horrors, you need not even know the formal name of the sandwich (which I believe is “the breakfast burger”). Simply drive up and say into the speaker, “Today’s the day I’ve decided to die.” They’ll know what you mean.
SOME PEOPLE IN THIS COUNTRY don’t have access to a Carl’s Jr., but that’s OK. They have Hardee’s. They’re run by the same soulless bastards.
I don’t see “the breakfast burger” on the menu at Hardee’s. But last week, I was watching Keith Olbermann on MSNBC (yes, I’m the one) when he mentioned their latest creation – it’s essentially a double-six-dollar burger. No, they don’t call it The $12 Burger. All the marketing people are on that iceberg trying to sell vaporware to penguins, remember?
It appears they call it “The 2/3 pound monster thickburger.” Yeah, “thickburger” is one word. Kind of like “heartattack.”
According to the Hardee’s nutritional calculator, the 2/3-pound monster thickburger contains 1,418 calories and 107 grams of total fat, 46 grams of which are saturated fat. Just for comparison’s sake, three Big Macs would contain 90 grams of fat, including 30 grams of saturated fat. If you add a Quarter Pounder to your meal, that’ll get you up to 108 grams of fat – now you’re talking! – but only 37 of those grams are saturated. How the heck are we supposed to remain morbidly obese with numbers like these? After four sandwiches, we still can’t match the saturated fat Carl is able to fit on just one of his beasts?
I’m no nutritionist, but I believe the way to make up the difference is to convince the person making your McDonald’s sandwiches to add 10 grams of grease from the grill to your sandwich. That ought to do it.
YOU PROBABLY DON’T NOTICE THE DIFFERENCE, but I sure do. This blog entry is being written from the comfort of my brand new iMac. It’s been nearly 12 years since I’ve owned a Mac, and I’d forgotten how great it is to not have to deal with Windows. Don’t get me wrong – Windows is fine if you think exactly the same way as Bill Gates. And if you like restarting your computer every few hours or so.
I purchased a software application called Move2Mac to help me migrate my files from my Dell laptop to the iMac. The Mac doesn’t have any problem with this, but the Dell goes into extreme software withdrawal whenever I fire up this program. The cooling fan on the laptop moves into full panic mode, spinning with the force of a Cessna turbo-prop engine. You could easily fry an egg for your Carl’s Jr. breakfast burger on the Dell whenever I use this (or virtually any other) application. Until it crashes, I mean.
So I’m now transferring files from my Dell to my iPod, and then from the iPod to the Mac. This solution goes much slower, but it appears to keep my laptop from bursting into flames. So far.
FINALLY TONIGHT, you probably missed this story because the media thinks it’s far more interesting to write about Britain’s Prince Harry moronically dressing up like a Nazi, but the United States and the Coalition of You Forgot Poland has officially called off its search for weapons of mass destruction in Iraq after two hapless years, one unjust war, tens of thousands of innocent Iraqi casualties, and a thousand or so dead American soldiers. In case you failed to notice, our moronic chimp-like red-state mockery of a president did not appear on an aircraft carrier to make this announcement – partly because there was no official announcement.
In case you were thinking the Bush administration would make some sort of announcement regretting their reliance on made-up evidence, we instead heard much of the same from Scott McClellan, the White House press secretary who I’d really like to see eat about 50 of Carl’s breakfast burgers tomorrow morning.
“We must confront threats before it’s too late,” McClellan told reporters. “Because this is about making America more secure.”
Funny, because two years ago it was about weapons of mass destruction. Drat those pesky facts.
Meanwhile, we Americans remain secure as we line up at the Carl’s Jr. drive-up window on Sunday morning, ordering breakfast burgers as if they were orgasms on a bun on the way to church or lynchings or NASCAR events or wherever else our red-state buddies gather together.
Freedom is on the march, people. Have another sandwich.