The only thing we at Kitchenette love more than eating fast food is making fun of it. With that aim in mind, Jezebel Night Editor Rebecca Rose once again joins us to discuss the deep philosophical import of fast food breakfast items.
Nah, just kidding, we're going to make sophomoric jokes about food you'd only eat if you have a death wish and/or aren't yet fully conscious and able to face the day.
Rebecca: Haaaaaayyy, I'm here — wait a second, where's all the "exclusive, never-before-seen Miley Cyrus art" you promised me?
Colin: That was a lie. You caught onto my promises of False Vodka, so I had to think up something new to get your attention.
Rebecca: Dammit! Why am I here, then?
Colin: So that we can make fun of fast food breakfast items.
Rebecca: ...does this mean I get to salivate over pictures of hulking grease monstrosities?
Rebecca: Much like Fredo in Godfather II, this breakfast item BROKE MY HEART. Everyone made such a big deal about this when it came out and I was really excited but when I finally got one it was very, very disappointing. It tastes like copier paper.
Colin: I'd eat it. Then again, I'd probably eat actual copier paper if you slopped enough cheese and sausage on there.
Rebecca: This sandwich is the equivalent of finally getting a chance to kiss Daniel Craig but when you do, he licks the back of your head and spits in your ear.
Colin: Your subconscious is a really fucked-up place sometimes, Rebecca.
Colin: BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA "ZINGER RISER!"
Rebecca: They also have "Zinger Porridge." That's not a menu item, that's a character in a Charles Dickens novel. "Zinger Porridge was abandoned by his mother, left out in the cold December night to die. But Zinger had other plans, it seems."
Colin: Seriously, the fuck are we even looking at? That looks like an amalgamation of every single unhealthy American eating habit. I see deep-fried chicken, fake shitty egg, mayo, and bread that probably contains enough chemicals to re-animate a corpse. All it's missing is American "Cheese" to complete the set. Globalization's a hell of a drug.
Rebecca: "Alone, poor Zinger was in a world that was cold and empty to his kind. He wandered the streets for years, begging for handouts of Extreme Mustard Fajita Sauce and Extra Cheesy Pickle Mayo, until one day, he simply could not handle a world so obsessed with condiments anymore."
Colin: OK, stop, we're doing this other thing now.
Colin: Confession time: Burger King has my favorite fast food breakfast, and I fucking love this thing. I'm not even sorry. Look at that shit. You can't tell me you don't want that in your facehole. Don't lie to me. Croissan'wiches 4 lyfe.
Rebecca: They found so many meats to go on this sandwich! Charles Darwin is hovering behind them like "Wait, what the fuck is that? How did they turn that animal into a patty? THIS DEFIES EVERYTHING I KNOW."
Colin: Here's the other thing that gets me: why the fuck is there an apostrophe in there? You're not separating two existing words; you've already made up the word "croissanwich," so why not just go whole hog with it? Do they think the apostrophe adds class? Is The French Laundry going to soon be serving "Le Croissan'wich avec Fromage et une Montagne de Pièces de Porc"?*
Rebecca: Hang on, I'm still working on my Zinger Porridge fanfic. My first story got 12,000 reblogs on Tumblr.
Rebecca: Don't let them fool you with their Jesus talk! THAT BISCUIT IS THE WORK OF SATAN'S UNHOLIEST DEMONS.
Colin: Speaking of which, how much do you want to bet Chick-Fil-A is actually a front for a satanic cult playing a really, really long con?
Rebecca: Colin, I ate three of them last week. #sorrynotsorry #actuallyverysorry. I feel the work of the Devil flowing through my veins. If I eat one more of these things, I will officially need an exorcism performed by the Pope.
Colin: I don't think even the powers of #CoolPope could save you from the Chicken Biscuit, Rebecca.
Colin: There's no way in hell this wasn't originally conceived of as a health pickup from Fallout 4.
Rebecca: I'm so excited to try this, you have no idea. It's a biscuit and yet's also a taco.
Colin: So, the fact that the sauce appears to be some kind of alien drain cleaner isn't a problem for you?
Rebecca: I don't know, but I've managed to work it in as a great villain for my Zinger Porridge fanfic. The Biscuit Taco is the Voldemort of the fast food breakfast world.
Colin: Arby's has breakfast?! I'm one of five people on the planet who actually likes Arby's, and even I didn't know that.
Rebecca: "Zinger Porridge's heart melted like so much processed cheddar cheese on the soul of humanity's potato cak—-"
Colin: ENOUGH WITH YOUR GODDAMN ZINGER PORRIDGE FANFIC. PAY ATTENTION TO THE ARTICLE FOR CRYING OUT LOUD.
Rebecca: Dude. You just hate art. For real.
Colin: Based on my experience with Panera's portion sizes, I'm pretty sure that picture is at a 5-to-1 scale. The actual sandwich can be held comfortably in thumb and forefinger and costs fourteen dollars.
Rebecca: Fourteen dollars! Them's Red Lobster prices!
Colin: Red Lobster would taste better. Seriously, Panera, you're fast food. You don't get to pretend you're not just because of some shit about making your own bread (which tastes like crusty asshole, by the way) and the fact that you charge $3 per crumb. We know exactly what you are, you price-gouging fucks. Besides which, you don't even taste better than those horseshit Starbucks breakfast sandwiches too bland and uninteresting to even warrant a mention here. Go fuck yourselves, Panera, but first give me some soup, because your soup is pretty bangin'.
Colin: Oh come the fuck on. Who the hell goes to Subway for breakfast? Who the hell goes to Subway if there is literally any other option available?! I haven't eaten at a Subway outside of a desperate rest stop situation in years, and even then I wish I'd starved.
Rebecca: Look. I've already been forced by this company to eat a Flatizza. There is no way in hell I going to touch Subway's breakfast monstrosity with a ten foot pole.
*ten minutes later*
Rebecca: Hey, do you think Subway is still serving breakfast? I mean...if you guys really want me to go.
Colin: Don't do it, Rebecca. Don't throw your life away for Subway.
Rebecca: This thing just screams "I wanted to be a burrito but I ended up as a shitty wrap on a McDonald's menu."
Colin: That's the most half-assed breakfast food item since the Taco Bell Grilled Sausage Flatbread. They didn't even bother to blend that shit, they just slapped it on a tortilla and were like "FUCK YOU, EAT YOUR FUCKING UNBURRITO."
Rebecca: Those wraps are the equivalent of the guy in your high school who moved to LA to become a "rock star" but is now a 45-year-old divorcee working at a Guitar Center.
Colin: I hear they charge you for the side of broken dreams now, just like they do for an extra BBQ sauce cup. Fucking cheapskates.
Join us next time, when we discuss the sociopolitical ramifications of the Wendy's Chocolate Frostee.
* Thank God for free online translation services.
** Since this is apparently only served in Canada now, yes, the discussion for this entry absolutely devolved into us just singing a duet of Blame Canada.