I am a Condiment Snob.
Whereas the common rabble cares not about their dips, toppings, dressings, relishes, and other such food-based peripherals, I am throughly obsessed with them. And when I say obsessed, I mean in the most demented, necro-psycho-sexual way possible. Yes, that does look like exactly what you're imagining right now. (Hold that image as you read this article)
What insights has such a Captain Ahab-like focus given me? Many.
What is the state of Condiments in the world today? Shitty.
Who's gonna do something about said shitty state of Condiments in the world today?
I AM.
What follows are my mandatory guidelines for future Condiment conduct for everybody, everywhere, forever. I expect them to be followed to the letter. And yes, that includes you Burger King. (Makes me sad BK; you, me, and the Kid's Club? Used to be boys, son...)
1. Thou Needst Give Me More Ketchup
Since this is a set of rules, and not another mere online Top Ten list, I've chosen to start with the most important Commandment of Condiments, pertaining to the most Important of Condiments, the Holiest of Holies...
KETCHUP
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| That's a tad silly... |
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| A bit much... |
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| What the hell is this? |
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| This is rank defilement and sacrilege! |
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| WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!! WHAT DARK POWER ARE YOU THRALL TO!?? |
So, then, why do so many of America's fast food franchises have such a problem dealing with ketchup?
"What problem?" you ask, stupidly.
"WHAT PROBLEM!!!???" I scream, smacking you violently about the face and neck, "WHAT FUCKING PROBLEM?!!?!!!? I'LL TELL YOU WHAT FUCKING PROBLEM!"
Most fast food restaurants nowadays have their own secret special variety of ketchups, kinds that we John Q. Publics never get to buy at the grocery store. So when I go to get fast food, I don't count my house ketchup as a worthy gladiator in the feasting Colosseum that is my tummy.
I need that Fast Food Ketchup, and I needs it GOOD.
Most of the time, I can get said ketchup from some manner of crude pump, from which said salty-sweet red good mayst pour out. This is a good and righteous system, and such franchises that implement them are wellsprings of prosperity and fertility for themselves and neighboring townships.
However, shouldst one be caught in the trap of the ever-vicious Drive-Through, or, worse yet, a fast food restaurant without a working ketchup faucet, one is forced into the ever-so-awful quest of acquiring one's desired hoard of ketchup from an employee.
You know what you get when you ask a fast food restaurant employee for ketchup packets? Two, maybe three packets. Four if it's your birthday, on the night of a full moon, during the airing of a rerun of the episode of Fresh Prince where Will and Carlton get pulled over and arrested, and learn a harsh lesson about 90's-style racism.
In short, what the fuck am I going to do with 2-4 packets of ketchup? (Shift abruptly from 2nd to 1st person for no good reason?)
Nothing. I can do nothing with that little ketchup. Smatter a fry or two perhaps with a spinkling of flavor, but no more.
Thus, the first rule is: Give me more fucking Ketchup.
This brings me directly to my second rule of Condimentary Etiquette...
2. Really, Thou Didst Not Give Me Enough Ketchup, I Needst, Like, Twice That
ANOTHER TWO FUCKING PACKETS??? THAT'S IT???
That in total covers, what, 8-12 fries for me? Am I going to have to squeeze out one packet at a time, so as to ensure that as little ketchup as possible is lost in the spreading across the surface of my wrapper?
Like, seriously, Mr. or Ms. or Mrs. Fast Food Employee, what is so precious about your damnably delicious paquets of Catsup? (I'll spell it like that when I'm huffing paint thinner, whichIamdoingrightnowthankyouverymuch.)
It's not like you're concerned about the waste of plastic, or the environment. And if ketchup was expensive, you wouldn't let people pump out as much as they could possibly want for free.
So, is giving me a wad of 12-18 packets of ketchup with my order of small french fries such a fucking hassle? Is it?
So yeah, from here on out, bitches, here's the rule:
Step 1: Take the number of ketchup packets you were about to give me.
Step 2: Double the number from step 1
Step 3: Add 3 to the number from step 2
Step 4: Give me as many ketchup packets as you can fit in your two hands. Once you've done
that, go back and get me another twenty packets. Thank you.
3. Thou Shalt Not Charge For Dipping Sauces
Popeye's, I'm not sure if I brought this up before, dawg, but you charge for your dipping sauces when ordering non-dipping items, or just for extra dip. That's cold. I already talked about how you went and killed off my second favorite Condiment next to ketchup, but now you want to make me pay money for the scrubs you brought in to replace my beloved Confetti Sweet & Sour sauce? For shame, Louisiana Kitchen, for shame.
The rule is: Your sauce ain't special, so don't charge for it.
4. Speakingst of Dipping Sauces, Burger King's Dipping Sauces Need Vast Improvement
Have you tried Burger King's line of dipping sauces?
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| I love stock art almost as much as I love misappropriating other people's image files |
Rule: For the love of fuck, do not attempt to ingest Burger King's dipping sauces.
5. Thou Shalt Not Tellst Me When I've Had Enough
Listen, Mr. Subway sandwich-maker, when I tell you I want more fucking jalapenos and hummus on my Meat-fucking-ball Marinara Flatbread sub, you put more fucking jalapenos and hummus on my Meat-fucking-ball Marinara Flatbread sub! Don't tell me the sandwich won't close, or you've run out of ingredients - GO TO THE BACK AND GET MORE IF YOU MUST!
Rule: If I ask you to dump the entire bin of black olives on my sandwich, you better fucking do it.
6. Thou Shalt Stop Piling Too Much Shit Onto Nachos
I cannot understand (much less abide) people who love to pile a mountain of condiments on top of a plate of nachos. To me, you might as well just have pulled down your pants and taken a giant Mexican-style shit all over a plate of perfectly good tortilla chips.
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| Pictured: Tortilla Abuse |
Oh, yeah, sure, some of the upper and outer chips will remain fine, perhaps even tasty. Some of the toppings might even not be horrible shit such as guacamole, or that brown bean paste that can't help but remind you of feces.
But then, once the best of the toppings are eaten, what are you left with? Some fresh, condimentless chips that are ripe for scraping the leftover cheese and such?
NO, you're left with a bunch of soggy-ass chips sitting in the bottom of the bowl, moping about like the one guy who went stag to the prom. And who the fuck wants to dance with a lump of soggy chips?
Rule: Chips are only for dipp... oh fuck... why was I the only guy who went stag to prom? Am... am I a... *sniff* ... a soggy chip?
7. Thou Shalt Offer Oral Sex To Thy Maker Of The "Dip & Squeeze" Ketchup Packet
Rule: OH MUH FUCK IS THAT A BADASS MOTHER-FUCKING KETCHUP PACKET, OR WHAT?
YOU CAN FUCKING SQUEEZE IT, FOR BURGERS AND SHIT!
YOU CAN MAKE IT INTO A DIPPING BASIN, FOR FRIES AND SHIT!
FIND WHO MADE THIS!
PERFORM ORAL SEX ON THEM!
TELL THEM GREAT CHANKERY STANKERY SENT YOU!
THEY'LL KNOW WHO I AM, I PROMISE!
8. Thou Shalt Keep A Close Eye On Parmesan Cheese Shakers
I used to work in a pizza place. We had to clean out the cheese shakers regularly, scrape out the mixture of rust and old, moldy cheese. So uh, yeah, not really hyperbole here. Just some good, homespun advice:
Rule: Check to make sure your cheese shaker at your favorite pizza place isn't full of rat shit or somesuch.
9. Thou Shalt Also Offer Oral Sex To Whomever Invented The Inverted Ketchup Bottle
Rule: Find the person who designed this bottle, then repeat step 7.
10. Thou Shalt Always Make Pickles Available In Large Quantities For Free
Those were the days.
Rule: PICKLES! FREE! NOW!
Well, dear reader, it sure has been fun outlining my ironclad laws for the future of the fast food industry, just as much fun as it will be when you join me to help enforce those laws! But that... that is a set of subliminal orders for another day. Until then...
Keep It Stankin'
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