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McRib vs. Turkey? Are you kidding?

Every time the McRib comes back (and I KNOW it’s more than once a decade, no matter what that clown tells you), everyone I know comes up to me with a slight variation on this theme:

“Dude, you must be so happy! The McRib is back! Bwahahaha…”

I know many of you look to me as the consumer of all fast food delicacies. I’ve earned that rep. So let me just say this one more time, for the cheap seats:

I HAVE NEVER HAD A McRIB!*

(* It’s very possible I have had a copious amount of McRibs and don’t remember.)

I’m not taking the high road and saying I’m above the McRib. And I understand why so many assume I’m a McRib fan. But I’ve yet to try it. If it didn’t overlap with¬†the most glorious of all eating and drinking days – Thanksgiving – I’d be more inclined. This year, I’ll do my best to give one a try. I will then put it in the proper historical context of other fast food monstrosities of the midsection.

In the meantime, I shall shout from the rooftops the call to arms that will one day get me elected Pope:

Turkey skin for everybody!

 

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