Which Fast Food joint is most on point?

Now it’s no mystery that the guys at LND drink hard. I’m talking Ray Lewis just walked into prison causing hardened criminal’s assholes to instantly tighten up hard. And we are quite creative with our hard-charging alcoholic festivities. Whether it be from downing an entire PBR 18 pack just because it’s Tuesday and you somehow finagled a Wednesday off, or, from pounding Jack Daniels shots repeatedly while dancing SO hard that you literally out dance yourself  just because a text message named band and Lil’ Jon told you to — there’s never an invalid reason for drinking excessively. When the time calls for it, of course. We are upstanding gentlemen, mind you.

Why do I tell you all of this? Because all those crushed cans and cut rugs justify a late night treat. And because we can’t order Red Lobster at beer thirty in the morning, most logical minds choose fast food. (Illogical fools get to look forward to light’s out with Ray Lewis.) Today’s debate tackles something that ALL have squabbled over from time to time. Get those stomach’s churning cause this is gonna be the best three man free-for-all since the three blind mice all had to take a shit at the same time. We ask you to vote:

Which Fast Food joint is most on point?

Dunn’s choice: WENDY’S

My choice was an easy one. Nothing says grubbin’ like that sweet child o’ mine Ms. Wendy. No, not that Wendy. She’s with Squints anyways. And most certainly not this one! (Even I had to make sure this wasn’t a guy) No, the one I speak of  has resembled a prepubescent aged schoolgirl her entire life, but that’s okay. Cause not only was her father an awesome spokesman, and in the same fraternity as me, but her chili is ridiculously good. From their REAL fish sammich to their thrice times stacked burger, nothing isn’t not good. Triple negative? Triple awesome.  And dare I even mention the Frosty. McD’s seemingly stole the Queen’s Blizzard concept to the tee and I’d still take a Frosty over a McFlurry. They give the option of a side baked potato for Christ’s sake! With chives? Sure. Butter? Certainly. Sour Cream? Not today, but thank you.

Their chicken sandwich rocks. Their salad has fruit. Their mascot looks like Pippi Longstocking. They have five golden nuggets for 99 cents. Point blank, nothing comes close.

Oh, and don’t forget to add shredded cheese to that chili. Glorious.

Perron’s choice: Chick-fil-A

Most people will argue that cows are stupid.   I would argue that they are the fourth most intelligent form of life on the planet right after humans, dolphins, and unicorns.  After all – that cow on the left is smart enough to correctly spell the word “eat”. Even more impressive is that they are capable of trying to save their own species and simultaneously recommend the most delicious of all fast food sandwiches if not all sandwiches known to man.  When you have that going for you is variety really necessary?  Chick-fil-A does a few things and does all of them excellently – from the chicken sandwich to the chicken nugget to the chicken strip to the best breakfast on the planet in the form of the chicken biscuit.  And if you haven’t had Polynesian Sauce before I would recommend you keep it that way, because after one taste you will end up like Pookie in New Jack hittin’ the Polynesian crack pipe over and over again.  Same goes for the milkshakes – they will essentially turn you into Tyrone Biggums.  Plus their french fries are cut into the mind-boggling shape of a waffle.  There are only two people on the planet that know how that is even possible.  Fact.  Probably.

Even though their food is the best in the business, the thing that really puts Chick-fil-A over the top is their service.  Most “fast” food restaurants don’t take the “fast” very seriously, routinely get your order wrong, and have employees that struggle with basic English communication.  Chick-fil-A gets you in and out, gets your order right and apparently gets a kick out of doing it because they always say “My Pleasure”.  If you still aren’t convinced, just remember that Chick-fil-A is the official fast food restaurant of both College Football and God.

Jay’s choice: Taco Bell

No. 1: Do not argue with Charles Barkley. If the Round Mound of Rebound says Taco Bell rocks (it rocks), then it rocks (it rocks). Chuck will put you through a bar window, then place your unconscious body inside a giant crunchy taco shell, then spread liquid cheese on that shell, then wrap you in a completely unecessary burrito shell, then deep fry you and then smother you in fire sauce before consuming your puny mass in one bite if you even try to bring any of that weak Chick-fil-A or Wendy’s game to Sir Charles’ Court. Besides, there’s no need to argue; the proof is in Charles’ pudding. How could something that helped a former world class NBA star put on about 200 pounds in three years be anything less than amazing?

Stepping around the fact I may or may not be trying to shamelessly pimp Pothead’s Delight because most of my burgeoning young retirement fund is locked up in Taco Bell’s parent company stock (Try KFC, Pizza Hut and Long John Silver’s today! YUM!), the offerings of this fine establishment speak for themselves (particularly sometime after midnight moments after emerging from a smoky 1986 Cutlass with purple velvet interior and red curtains on the back seat windows).

I mean, can you comprehend the genius it takes to craft 14 different tacos, 17 different burritos, 3 types of gordita, 4 chalupas and 10 other random meat-in-shell options out of basically the same four ingredients (beef, chicken, corn, cheese)? And, no, you shouldn’t be afraid that one small store the size of your living room can produce more menu selections than Johnson & Wales. From the one that started it all — the classic 79 cents soft or cruncy taco, simplistically perfect in its Spartan dress of mystery beef chum, fake cheese and limp lettuce — to the grave-making, bubble guts-exploding XXL chalupa — a massive fried Chalupa shell packed with ground beef, lettuce, fiesta salsa, a blend of three cheeses PLUS nacho cheese sauce, red strips and reduced fat (haha!) sour cream — Taco Bell is any 20-somethings wet dream. Except that’s no wet dream, and it’s not low fat sour cream either. Stoney, that bite of delectable cat meat and cheese sauce in your mouth is as real as the sticky Stoney Jr.’s swimming around in your hemp boxers.

Taco Bell is delicious, diverse enough to prevent the need to ever eat anywhere else (other than Pizza Hut, KFC or Long John Silver’s), and is so cheap that any couch-surfing homeless drop out can walk around a parking lot for about 15 minutes and pick up enough loose change to get a meal. Who cares that the entire menu is a disgrace to Mexico’s cultural and culinary history? Mexican immigrants’ entire case for being allowed in the U.S. illegally is the fact that no job, no matter how foul or back-breaking, is beneath them. Yo quiero Taco Bell? Yep. Thinking outside the bun? Am now. Does the box rock (it rocks)? It better, because Charles has his fire sauce ready, Little Gordita.


One Response

  1. Chick-fil-a by a landslide,

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