Wednesday, October 28, 2009

Mom's Blazing Sandwiches of Death

The flyer for the over-priced lunch café I go to in the city has an entry for "old-fashioned tuna sandwich." It's served on "cracked whole wheat wrap" and has slivers of organic carrots in it.

Uh, WHAT???!!? Old-fashioned??? Yeah, because back in the day, mom ALWAYS used "cracked wheat" when she made our fat-globule-enriched tuna on bleached-white slabs-o-death. Forget cracked wheat, I think the people who made this menu were on actual crack.

We didn't have any of this pansy "wrap" stuff back then! Krist, before 1988 or so "rap" was just a type of music made by those nice boys in Aerosmith. No, if you wanted tuna the "old fashioned" way, it was served up HARDCORE SYTLE with tons of artery-busting mayo and sugar-spiking Wonder Bread, baby!

Type 2? HA HA HA! We laughed in the FACE of Type 2! We didn't know what the f*ck it was, but we sure as hell laughed in its face! We were kids, dammit, and we took it like men.

Oh sure, mom gave us carrots from time to time, but she was never so sadistic as to put 'em in our freakin' TUNA, for crying out loud. We'd have probably kicked her ass, or something. And none of that "pieces of celery" stuff either, although I know some poor bastards whose moms DID try to smuggle that crunchy crap into their otherwise blissful mercury-enhanced fish parts.

And in ye olden days, did we have to pay mom 10 dollars and 25 cents per sandwich? Or 11 dollars and 20 cents if you wanted the "sandwich and small bottle of water" combo deal? Hmmmm. Strangely, that magical part of my youth seems to have receded into the mists of yesteryear. Maybe that's because we didn't have (pseudo-healthy) spring water either! Nope, we drank it straight up: right from the tap. (That's why they call it "tap" water by the way; drink enough of it, and they'll be playing "taps" for you.)

I think the lesson here is quite simple: The good old days weren't always good, and tomorrow ain't as bad as it seems, YAAY-YAAAAAAAAAY-YAAAAAAAAY!!!!!! You learn stick ball as a formal education! Doo-deee-dooo-dee-doooo-dee-dooooo…

Woops! Sorry, I was channeling my inner Piano Man for a second there. Well, it doesn't matter because that's not really the lesson to be learned here at all. I suppose, more accurately, the lesson to be learned is this: Yesterday sucked; today sucks; and you can't escape the satanic corporations which will eventually grind us all into a fine-white powder and make calcium-fortified bread with our bones.

But mom did make one hell of a kick-ass sandwich, didn't she? Love ya mom!

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