The Fire In The Attic

Death to the "Baconator" and Everything that Follows is True

    I like to think that I'm an educated young man. I went to university for four years, studied intently, and then take it upon myself to further my own personal education through a healthy diet of reading stuff, studying world topics and keeping up to date on the political clusterf*** our nation has become.
    Unfortunately,  at 11:06 p.m. on  April 7th, 2008, I became an idiot.
    Justin and I had exited the Spoon concert in Pittsburgh and had not eaten since lunch that day. We were young, desperate and reflectively cretinous as we rolled into Wendy's that evening. At this point in my life I had gracefully given up fast food for the past 4 years, except for two instances in which I was on a roadtrip and just had to east something. I hunkered down and ordered two five piece nuggets and The Baconator - a manly man burger with man bacon and man cheese.
    I honestly don't know what the hell I was thinking.
    The nuggets went down fine, that was to be expected. However, not even halfway through this monster of a hamburger, I sprang out of my hunger coma and was suddenly face to face with a greasy disgusting once-frozen chunk of re-processed cow.
    I was speechless. What was I doing to myself? Why had I resulted to this fast good graving I had successfully suppressed for so long?
    Let's examine the Baconator, shall we?
    Weighing in at 276 grams, The Baconator is full of 840 calories and 51 total grams of fat. Not only does it resemble more of a feat to be achieved than an actual meal, its six strips of bacon seemed to be a mere garnish on this husk of meat.
    Let it also be noted that I am no stranger to the steak and the bird. I am a carnivore as well (although not as much lately) so it should be noted that even though I hardly eat fast food, my displeasure and outright "ggggrrrrrrross!" feelings are to be designated to the Baconator and the Baconator only.
    We got back to Parkersburg at 2:30 or so and I was only then beginning to feel the side effects of ingesting this godless killing machine, the Baconator. Who knows what psychopathic journey this hamburger was taking through my digestion track, but I was immediately aware that I was not going to be better for it. Trust me, 4:30 a.m. is not a time to be still up.....on the can.......cursing the Baconator.
    Heed this rambling warning and stray away from these fast food traps. I understand that they are cheap and quick, but the price you pay is far greater than a lighter pocketbook or the time spent cooking a meal.
    Do not order the Baconator.