What are the three
words that no one will admit they love to hear? McRib is back! Yes that
gelatinous pork fusion of grundles, tits and ear lobes molded to resemble a
rack of ribs is mouthwateringly divine. Finish it with pickles, onions, and a
savory BBQ sauce (to silence the horrified “what the fuck!?!” of your taste
buds), slap it in between two sesame seed buns and you have a cult classic.
McDonalds has
devised a brilliantly devious marketing scheme to tease us with McRib; bringing
it back only to take it away over and over again. It is the forbidden fruit of
McEden. My question is not why McRib is so disgustingly good; I want to know
where does McRib go? Where is it coming “back” from? I have a few ideas that
may explain this age-old mystery.
McRib is like
groundhogs day mixed with Motley Crue. It comes out with a lot of hype, does a
drug and sex fueled world tour and then fades into obscurity for another year.
This type of demanding schedule is mentally and physically exhausting,
especially when you are made of reclaimed pig parts. After a long, stressful
stint of being chased by lumpy Nebraskans my first thought was McRib needs a
vacation.
Now one might
wonder, where does a pork sandwich go on vacation? The obvious answer: Cancun. Waiting
across the border is Doritos Locos Taco, a good friend of McRib and a renowned
party animal in the fast food world. After a quick stop at la pharmicia, armed
with a Hunter S Thompsonesque arsenal of drugs, the two head to Senior Frogs. The
real beauty of the Cancun vacation is being able to hide in plain sight. The
last thing McRib wants is to be recognized. In Cancun when a frat bro inevitably
spots McRib at the bar, his cover isn’t blown because A) the frat bro is
already blackout after 15 margaritas and doesn’t remember it the next day or B)
his friends don’t believe him because, c’mon, McRib, at a bar in Cancun?
Really? It’s bulletproof.
What if McRib
doesn’t party? Maybe he’s strictly business. I mean, you don’t stay in the
spotlight for 30 years by chugging tequila and frequenting donkey shows (unless
you’re Charlie Sheen). Perhaps, after a successful campaign, McRib pays homage
by making a hajj to McMecca, high in the Andes Mountains of Peru. The Inca are widely
celebrated for their contributions in roads, architecture, and terrace
agriculture but perhaps their greatest accomplishment is the creation of the
first McRib. The indigenous giant guinea pigs of the region were, and continue
to be, a traditional source of food in Peru. The Inca, by harvesting the scrap
parts from guinea pig roasts, unknowingly stumbled upon the culinary perfection
that is McRib. The original McRib is kept preserved in a temple high atop Mount
Yerupaja and is watched over by an elite group of McMonks who take a lifelong vow
to protect the sacred sandwich. This holy visit to the motherland fills McRib
with awe and inspiration and energizes him to go back into the world and make
his ancestors proud. Not to mention, there is no better way to stay in
fake-rack-of-ribs shape than high altitude training.
I save my most
devious theory as to the whereabouts of McRib for last. Whether it’s in South
America or Mexico, there is a certain air of conspiracy surrounding the elusive
pork sandwich. Finding McRib is like an artery clogging version of “Where in
the World is Carmen San Diego?” I believe that McRib hides in plain sight. I believe
McRib, like its potent cholesterol deposits, resides in the heart of our
country; capital hill. The political divisiveness in this country and the
inability of Congress to accomplish anything has reached an all time high.
Amidst the finger pointing, partisanship, and filibustering, there is a deeply
sinister power at work and its name is McRib. Armed with powerful food coma inducing
abilities, McRib makes sure the lawmaking process grinds to a slow greasy halt.
It’s like opium covered in BBQ sauce. Neither Republicans nor Democrats can
resist its meaty allure. Its deliciousness is, in fact, the only thing they can
agree on. So the next time
McRib is “back” take a moment and ask yourself, “where the fuck have you been?”
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