Muddy Waters #5
Dining Out
In the annals of history
1st Annual Restaurant Review
Tortilla
A few issues ago
In the annals of history, we discover that primitive man hunted and gathered for his sustenance. He
left his encampment and wandered aimlessly until finding a suitable site for a good meal. I was just
doing this yesterday. It is a journey we have all faced at some point in time, and if we haven't already
we are most certainly not of this Earth.
Undoubtedly, this drive for the most beneficial meals must be a holdover from some carnal
instinct which was possessed by our evolutionary deprived ancestors. They were a pack of wild hyenas
fighting over the last morsel of elephant or antelope. They were huge fish scattering toward bits of food
in a murky, protein-filled swamp. They were hairy, grunting humans pulling into the drive-thru at
Denny's. This primal, gut-wrenching force has now been adapted to a society that stays in one place
for long periods of time. Modern killing fields: MacDonalds, Burger King, Pizza Hut, and that greasy
Mexican place downtown. Here we go to hunt. We slowly survey the menu for some potential prey, and
when the time is right we tackle the lame nacho. When our share is exhausted, we leave the carcass
for some lowly scavenger to pick clean, then give him/her fifteen per cent and go home.
But for more primitive peoples, more advanced weapons have been developed for the art of
hunting; weapons supposedly deemed necessary since these people have no modern means of readily
acquiring comestibles. As a result, it is now possible to take down a squirrel at five-hundred yards with
the assistance of a laser-sighted automatic rifle. There would be nothing left of the poor wittle thing,
but at least it can be done... right?
What drives this awesome, interminable trek of ours? Could it be some sort of emotion we do
not understand? A quest for total satisfaction maybe? It is unquestionably different for each of us as
beings of reason and preferences. Whatever the driving strength may be, the human race will only
know when this life is o'er and all the secrets of the universe are revealed.
1st Annual Restaurant Review
In light of this issue's obvious
focus on food, I have complied a
reasonably unbiased review of several
nationally recognized food chains. It
is a pleasure to provide such useful
information to those of you who like
to read crap such as this.
Restaurant #1: Burger King
Although this fine establishment is
often referred to as "fast food," it
is somewhat of a gourmet palace to
those of us who worship chicken
sandwiches. It is such a soundly
constructed sandwich that one may
relish it's lovely taste and texture
hours after eating... which is a good
thing. Another culinary specialty of
the King's Court is the velvety egg &
cheese breakfast croissant along with
an order of their crunchy delicious
hash browns. Yum. But who could speak
of Burger King without mentioning
the towering ruler of hamburgers, The
Whopper. Oh, Whopper, how you rule
our American society with your beef-
riddled patty; I kneel to you.
Restaurant #2: Taco Bell
One word... er... three:
Nacho Bell Grande.
Nuff said.
Restaurant #3: KFC
When Colonel Sanders had the idea to
fry chicken, a national craze began
to rise from the backwoods of
Kentucky. With his stark white suit
and fine taste for fixin's, the
Colonel created a restaurant with yet
another chicken sandwich which leaves
me awestruck and wonderfully
satisfied; and it's barbecue! Tender
chicken and tangy sauce... oh, my.
But it has recently been brought to
my attention that KFC doesn't carry
this culinary attraction in all of
their fine establishments, at least
not in western Kentucky (which is
kinda ironic, eh?). Muddy Waters
corespondent, Jennifer Tynes reports:
"I assume Col. Sanders was born here
somewhere, though I really have no
idea; we don't study it in school or
anything. I've never been to a KFC
that had barbecue; that's odd. My
friend Max worked at KFC this summer.
There are lots of barbecue places
here though."
Restaurant #4: Denny's
Never been here before, but I guess
I'd get the buffet if they have one.
Oh, Branford Marsalis recorded a song
called "Breakfast at Denny's" which
is pretty cool. Check it out at your
local record store. Wynton Marsalis
also has an album called "Joe Cool's
Blues" with some of the best jazz
artists of today like Wycliffe Gordon
on Trombone and... I can't remember
any more, but I do have a Dizzy
Gilespie album with Wynton playing
"Mood Indigo" (one of my all time
favorites) with John Faddis and Doc
Cheatam, two of the greatest trumpets
this world has ever seen. Oh wait...
this has nothing to do with Denny's
does it. Oops.
Restaurant #5: MacDonald's
Well, I don't think I ever liked
McD's except for the onions. They
have a taste that mixes well with
ketchup and cheese. I guess the
onions are the only things that keep
me coming back. The friendly we'll-
hire-people-in-their-nineties
atmosphere is great too. Onions and
old people... freaky.
Restaurant #6(66): Pizza Hut
I don't like Pizza Hut. The food can
be summed up in one word: grease. I
think that doctor (oh what's his
name... Kevorkian! that's it) bought
the place from Middle Eastern oil
sheiks just to further his practice.
Should it be called Satan's Hut?
(Send responses to the regular
address). The buffet's good for the
price though.
Well, that's it for the First Annual
Muddy Waters Restaurant Review. If
you liked it, or didn't, or would
like to add to it, just send all
correspondence to me.
Tortilla
On the road to Olean, New York, there's a portal into another culture
characterized by a bath of neon "Corona" signs and Latin music; two people sit
at a table. They discuss everything with each other. They talk about what
happened today and how it relates to something that happened exactly a year ago
and how weird it is that the two incidents occurred exactly a year apart; small
talk actually. In a swift movement, he leans over to the little wicker basket
and gets a tortilla chip. The crunch breaks the surrounding silence. For some
reason voices aren't big enough for a job like that. The table is scratched and
stained from all the other people who have been here to talk about their boring
lives. They see a name etched into the wall that is mutually recognized and
talk about him. He was the loser in high school, but now he owns a computer
software company and makes millions of dollars. They just sit here in this
boring restaurant and read names on the wall. They talk about how much better
off they are than him because they have each other, but really they suck and
don't know it.
A few issues ago, I asked my loyal readers to send in responses to the question: "Who's
that guy?" (If you missed Issue #3, you probably will be lost so just skip the next paragraph,
but remember back issue are available for only five cents). Well, I got one response, and
here it is thanks to Space Cat:
Ok. That guy is Elvis! After his "death" he moved to Africa where he took up running
and bug collecting. Then, the U.S. government called on him to hail an alien ship, but due to
processing errors in the Pentagon, he ended up as a spy in Russia. In this photo, circa 1986, Elvis
has killed a real commando, using ancient tribal methods from Tanzania. He has stolen the guy's
uniform, but didn't have time to lace up those thigh-high leather things the Russians call army
boots. He is attempting to move with this group of commandos to avoid detection, but
unfortunately spies a rare species of Cloptonia bugovia, a beetle species whose bright red and
neon orange spots help to hide it in the wild tropical jungles of Russia. Elvis can't help to think of
his bug collection and how this little booger would be a wonderful addition, so he gets out of step
with the rest of the group. No worries, they're only on their way to the American camp cause our
margaritas kick ass(ets), and no one makes a Grande Espresso the way Joe at the bar does. And
trust me, after a night with one of us American women. . . . . . . . . (It gets obscene after that, so I will
refrain from printing it).
Owenlea Holsteins
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