This time of year is filled with anticipation. I am not sure if it’s the bright lights or the endless rounds of Bing Crosby singing everywhere you go, but one can almost be overwhelmed by the anticipation of the coming of one of the world’s truly great miracles.
Yes, that’s right, I am talking about the seasonal return of the McRib sandwich. Over on Face Book, on of my “Friends” was bemoaning the fact that his sandwich was vile and loathsome. After I stopped shaking with rage at his comments, I tried to put the whole thing in perspective for him. You are kind of limited on space in Face Book so I pondered which of the key elements would be most persuasive. With such a limitless choice of adjectives and invectives I could have used, I needed to pare it down just a bit. Here is my response:
I personally consider the experience of eating one of these treats a right of passage for any man in North America. Some what similar to sleeping on the ground at a Boy Scout camp in the freezing rain = jumping into the cold end of a lake at first light since its the only place you can get clean that day = and kissing the girl with braces so you can tell your buddies you scored.
I will keep eating them until my last artery no longer allows flow and they have used all the alternate veins to replace them. Nirvana would be eating the last bite and have that barbeque sauce and pickle taste on my tongue as the shaft of light opens above my now prone body and Saint Pete calls down to say: “No worries Bob, they are served every day at lunch time up here and you can eat an endless supply. Why do you think we can get away with calling it Heaven?” By the way, that girl with braces grew up and is now Miss December… I’m just saying.
I know they won’t be around much longer. My suspicion is that the meat actually comes from reindeer that are no longer swift enough to pull Santa’s sleigh. That would explain the seasonal part and certainly explain why they are only available for a limited time. It would also explain the secrecy. I have heard the story behind the creation of the McRib. It actually was invented by Mrs. Claus exclusively for the big guy. They called it “The Santa Sandwich”. The only problem was his original suit. It was all white. The all white was part of the stealth factor since Santa uses a snow storm as a cover while he travels. Of course the sauce would drip and spill as he flew and make an awful mess. One Christmas, Mr’s Claus had enough of removing the tough stains fom his white suit and in desperation, died the main body of the suit red (only leaving the soft white lapels as a compromise to the old days). Somehow, McDonalds got a hold of the recipe and the rest as they say is history. At least tha’s what I heard.
We probably should keep this secret. Do you really want a million screaming kids putting up tents and banging drums outside of every McDonalds in America? Frankly, there are a lot of “Occupy Something” people with free time on their hands that would love to hook up with the kids. Mickey D’s is a huge corporation driven by profits and the beauty of it is the restaurants (or stores as they call them) all have bathrooms. Win Win as we say in business.
You would think with all the scientific knowledge we have gathered over the years, somehow they would find a way to keep it around longer. Even better, we could create a McRib Bureau in the Department of Agriculture and fund it with leftover TARP money. Make it a union shop so we could add some Bailout funds and talk about how “green” it is so we could loan it some money from what we save on the military budget cuts.
Frankly, I am shocked that no politician has picked up on this yet. With all the other silly things they promise to do (and never quite finish), this one could be a winner and they would have voters (at least the male ones) eating out of their hands. Top it off with a Dr. Pepper and fries (the ones still cooked in veggie oil) and you will win with a landslide.
Well, that’s it for today. Heading out soon to hunt some reindeer and pick up a few gallons of Mickey D’s barbeque sauce (I know a guy who knows a guy).