Mops, Socks, and Chardonnay: May 2010 Archives

It's hard to believe that even KFC could top itself in the category of 'Things That WILL Almost Certainly Kill You If You Eat Them' after the KFC Bowl o' Fatty Starch Starch. But they have. And with little sunbursts of awesomeness thrown in. 

Of course, I'm writing about the Double Down sandwich though I use the term 'sandwich' loosely, as a sandwich is, and I'm quoting the Oxford English Dictionary here, an item of food consisting of two slices of bread with a filling between them. Note that there is no reference, no matter how obscure, to placing the fillings between pieces of deep fried poultry. Of course some variations are allowed according to the International Sandwich Council (established in 1228 AD in the Principality of Pastrami Minor) - the Danes have a special dispensation to offer a single slice of bread with toppings and call it an 'open face' sandwich. Purists, of course insist that the Danish Exemption is only due to the fact that they control the only extant Danish Modern furniture mines, and thus can dictate to the rest of the world - or at least those parts that have not succumbed to the Craftsmen Furniture Heresy.

KFC, I believe has now ripped the mask from its vileness and revealed that they are not just another fast food company but a front for a cabal of mad, power-hungry franchisees who are bent on world domination. When we all weigh 1200 pounds and can only get around on little electric scooters, KFC minions, on orders from Command Central in Kentucky will round us all up into camps where we will subsist on a diet of lard cutlets, dipped in breading, deep fried and served on a bed of gravy sodden potatoes, washed down with gallons and gallons of high fructose fortified fizzy beverages. Or possibly, they'll just extend their profits with the KFC Healthy Meal Deal where each and every offer of a Double Down sandwich will be accompanied with a portable defibrillator for $299.99 with coupon. Drinks are extra.

Along with the recent discovery of Chap magazine and the mounting suspicion that I had been stolen from the manorial estate in East Sussex while still a babe and deposited with uncouth colonials in that most ghastly of all provincial provinces - California, I also stumbled upon the Tweed Run.

First, before I launch into yet another paean to long-gone days and those brave and usually misguided souls who refuse to let them go, why is it I have to go to England to find all this stuff? Where are the American equivalents? I mean, I'm usually all for any excuse to go to London, or England, or Great Britain, or former British colonies, or pretty much any place that has an English style pub, but it would be nice if I could find something like that without suffering the indignity that is air travel today. Not that I have anything against disrobing in public and cavity searches. No indeed.