Okay, so, I'm a foodie by nature, but I also have a gastronomic curiosity matched only by a goat with the same culinary disregard of a Roomba rolling over thumb tacks. So, I discover this thing at KFC.
This freaking thing:
Yes, this is a thing that exists. Your eyes do not deceive you: it is a sandwich with a layer of bacon, two layers of cheese, and some sort of mayonnaise-y sauce crammed between two pieces of fried chicken, and that's it.
This is the Donald Trump of fast food items. So, with the same feckless disregard I have when ordering fried chocolate-covered triple-sugar-coated wombat faces from the State Fair, I had to order and eat this thing. Because if there is one thing I will do before I die, it will be to eat all things that can be eaten.
As soon as it was brought out, me and the other guy at the counter were instantly inflicted with gout. I drove home and got a Mike's Harder Black Cherry Lemonade to drink with it, because I had already shelled out what little was left of my dignity and common sense in ordering a Double Down.
And I ate it. I ate that bastard. And it was glorious. Each bite brought me closer to either a cosmic epiphany or a coronary embolism. Halfway through, Denis Leary appeared in my apartment and extolled me to finish that freaking sandwich like a man. And finish I did.
And frankly...as ashamed as I am to say this...it's pretty good. This is not high-quality levels of food porn here, this is 'I-have-to-go-to-work-at-3-AM, so-sue-me' food porn. This is the difference between a Miyazaki film and some badly cropped Macross film that's still amazing because it's all the dogfights. This is simple food, for that every now-and-then need to just throw caution and unblocked arteries to the wind.
This is grindhouse food.
It's a limited time thing, but apparently, like the Terminator, it just won't die and stay dead. So, eat this thing now, if you are absolutely out of shits to give...or wait till it comes back like a deep-battered Ernst Blofeld, because it will.