Earlier this year, I decided it would probably be a good idea to not be so damn fat. Getting healthier overall laid more seemed like a worthwhile possible side-effect as well. Naturally, I went about googling ways to not be fat, as I assumed it would mean more than just skipping my morning hot cup of butter-flavored Crisco. That googling led me to find out some truly startling mostly maybe possibly true information.

Bread is an asshole.

Yep, that's what the internet said to me. The internet wouldn't lie to me, would it? I mean, it brings me porn. Oh wait, hold on. I knew a girl in Sacramento who did the same thing and she turned out to be crazy.

Regardless, I decided to trust this whole "bread's a cocksucker" theory, in the interest of science, and consume a KFC Double Down. For the great unwashed, this new product from The Colonel is a sandwich that boasts about its lack of buns and judicious application of all things unhealthy.


KGC? Obviously this refers to their line of grilled products, but somehow to me it invokes imagery of communism, jackboots, and possibly Dolph Lundgren.

SPOILERS! (Click to view)

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Ha HA! Now who's crazy?

This thing was wrapped up so tightly upon delivery, I was concerned it may be an omen of greasiness to come. Little did I know how right I was.


The last time I saw breasts this bare it cost me a dollar plus cover and a creepy hipster with Kanye West asshole glasses tried to score coke off me in the men's shitter.


Further exploration shows inside lies a gloppy combination of cheese, bacon, and The Colonel's "secret sauce". Cue the masturbation joke. All gloppiness aside, the structure of the sandwich is sound. I expected the two chicken chunks to slide around against each other like Rosie O'Donnell's ass cheeks in July, making handling difficult and awkward. This was not the case. At least not for the sandwich.


Upon first nom, I ran into a weakness. Rather than submit to my powerful jaws easily, the chicken was stubborn, tearing along its grain. I literally bit off more than I could chew. This tendancy is the sandwich's fatal flaw; the Death Star exaust port if you will.

But there also arose another issue:

A magnificent case of greasefinger. Only the lube-wrangler on the set of Ass Spelunkers #3 could top what results from the handling of this product. I recommend you fight the temptation to unwrap this thing unless you like your fingers to leave subtle meat-smelling fingerprints on everything all day.

But how does it taste? Not bad, really. If the bacon and cheese had been of higher quality it might have even been good despite its flaws. But they weren't, meaning this epicurean disaster can only achieve mediocrity. But, in a way, KFC seems to revel in that fact ... like the slow kid in class with mittens pinned on his sleeves who's way too proud about his ninth place t-ball trophy. Good try, KFC...good try.




6/10 flushes


SnakePlissken proudly sniffs his fingers after fried chicken.

When I think shit food, I think Italian. Not because it’s bad. Oh, fuck no. I mean shit food in the way that every single dish is out to clog your arteries and make you die of an infarction while you’re masturbating awkwardly in a changing booth at the Fashion Bug. I mean, what’s not to love about a cuisine where even the vegetarian dishes can turn a white tablecloth orange if accidentally spilled? Oh, right. The rip-offs. The “authentic” stuff out there that lures you in with your trust of all things Italiariffic, only to leave you searching for the nearest 7-11 that sells both Imodium and Depends. That being said, it’s time to take on one of the worst offenders: Subway.

I love a good sandwich. A lot. If I had my choice between the perfect sandwich and the perfect handjob, I’d take the sandwich. I’m not saying I don’t like handjobs. Quite the contrary. I’m just saying I really fucking love sandwiches. And Subway is to sandwiches what Captain Hook is to handjobs, preparing greasy luges of bread set to rocket out of your colon like a doomed Georgian athlete.

So, after my daily trip to the liquor store, I stopped by the local Subway for a foot long of blasphemy. There were two choices on the menu with “Italian” in their name, the Italian B.M.T. and the Spicy Italian. I settled on the Spicy Italian after deciding that I simply couldn’t eat anything with the initials B.M. anywhere in its naming scheme. Considering the gustatory dynamite that would comprise this big bastard, I selected the parmesan oregano bread, hoping the cheese would create a gluing effect in my lower GI tract, thus countering the natural laxative effect of cheap cold cuts. And do I want it toasted? Why not? I was.

Here’s what Subway says a Spicy Italian should look like.

Look at that thing. I kind of want to marry it and move to a country where it’s legal to eat your wife.

Here’s what it really looks like.

Yeah, that’s the Russian Bride effect. Looks great on the internet, but when it shows up, it’s ugly, mean, and probably will wake you up by putting cigarettes out on your arm.

Fortunately, I know it's what's inside that counts, right?

Shit. That piece of bread looks like it could try out for Jersey Shore 2. Better dig deeper.


Ok, well that's not so bad looking I guess, even though it resembles the Jolly Green Giant's first dump of the day.


Much to my surprise, it handles well. Not much topping leakage or bread crumble. These are the first favorable traits I've noticed.

But then I tried it. It tastes, well, cheap. Like licking Lindsay Lohan, only slightly less greasy. The salami and pepperoni are the exact opposite of what they should be in a quality sandwich. Most likely, I don't want to know what's in them as they probably contain at least half the periodic table. I don't even want to speculate on the half-life of Subway salami. The olives, which I normally love, were oppressively briney, dominating the flavor profile. As for the tomatoes, well, they were red. If they had a flavor they might have been nice. Same goes for the lettuce. Ugh, iceberg. Unless it's sinking the Titanic and killing Leonardo DiCaprio, I'm not interested.

So is the king of cheap sandwiches worth it? No, not at all when you consider the quality of what you're getting for your money. Why not spend an extra buck or two and visit a local establishment instead? Not only will you support your local economy, but you'll get a much better product for the money you spend. Don't settle for less when more is everywhere.



3/10 flushes


SnakePlissken eagerly awaits being sued by Lindsay.

I love Swiss cheese. It’s packed with glory-holes of deliciousness. I love mushrooms, too, even if they make me so gassy I could fart the entire chainsaw solo from “The Lumberjack” by Jackyl. While I'm at it, let’s not forget french-fried onions. They‘re greasy and tasty and totally count as a serving of vegetables as per the FDA food pyramid. So, how could I not love a sandwich with all of those things on it? Oh yes, that’s right; it’s from Burger King. That statement alone is sufficient to make even the most iron-gutted of us shake in fear like a Shar-Pei shitting tacks. But, maybe I shouldn’t judge. So what if the company mascot looks like he isn’t allowed to live less than two hundred feet from all schools or day care centers? Even the shittiest kid in gym class can park a homer or two on occasion.

Time for a Burger King Mushroom and Swiss Steakhouse Burger.

First Impressions

The cold, the dark, and the rain conspired to form an opaque fog on my car windows. The gentle breeze smells of cold and evil. That evil is Burger King, and I'm in the drive-thru lane to Hell. The small trollish woman at the window smiles a black-toothed grin as she approaches with the item in hand. A knowing grin. I momentarily feel like I may have just done a deal with Leland Gaunt. I rush home; if I did just sell my soul for this thing I shouldn't let it get cold. Microwaved soul-burger sounds unappealing.

The Reveal

Seven bucks this sucker cost me. How can these people sleep at night? On a big pile of money I suppose. I hope they inhale a quarter and die.




That's what you get for your hard-earned money

So that's Angus beef? Pardon me, whoever wrote that, I think your "g" key might be sticking. This terrible excuse for a patty was dry, overcooked, and had an overabundance of the color black. If this was indeed Angus beef, The King should be ashamed of himself. Maybe even more than people who have plastic spinner hubcaps or get hookers off Craigslist.

Ready to take a peek under the hood?

The Mastication

SPOILERS! (Click to view)

"Yeah, but secreted by what?!"

This thing made my kitchen smell like a church basement on potluck night. More specifically, it made it smell like the table with the three green bean casseroles that invariably show up. It's cheap fried onions and hot canned mushrooms all the way. This is the first time I've been tempted to back out. But it's too late, and the damn thing was seven bucks.



Wow, it tastes like it smells. The onion flavor is really too strong and strange, but at least it kills some of the tinny, briny mushroom taste. The last time I had ones that tasted this bad they cost me a hundred bucks, but made anime entertaining for the first time.

All in all, I'd say this thing checks in at the top of my list of life regrets. And, I'd say it's bad enough to top other people's, too. I imagine right now, probably in Washington state, there's a guy with a pile of hooker torsos in his closet who just ate one and had it top his list of regrets, too. So yeah, it's worse than murder. But at least no one will gas you to death for doing it. You'll probably take care of that yourself.




1/10 flushes



SnakePlissken wants a Hamdog.

Remember 1993? Boy, I sure do. I was obsessed with White Zombie, Warhammer 40,000, and pretty much every girl's tits at school. And, yes, I am including the lunch lady, as her arm fat flap-flopping was hauntingly captivating and the source of many a young man's lusty gaze. That was also the year we learned that Jack in the Box really did have shitty burgers. Should have just let mommy make you one at home eh? Sure there's no toy, but is a posable ALF figurine really worth a scathing case of bloody eliminations?


First Impressions

It's hot out. Damn hot. Plus, I have leather seats. Not a good combo. I'm stewing in my own juices and cursing Al Gore under my breath for inventing global warming. The air conditioner strains to keep up, like a free clinic in New Orleans the week after Mardi Gras. I roll down the window just long enough to scream my order of a BBQ Bacon Sirloin Burger combo. Do I want it large-a-sized? Fuck yes, I'd like a giant cup of ice. How much extra to have that Latina counter girl with the big ass pour it down my pants? No response. I pull around to the window and cough up my $7.68. In return, I'm handed an overflowing bag of greasy goodness from a man that looks a lot like Billy Mays. I once again ponder the concept of the doppelgänger, crane my neck for one more glance of hot Latina butt, and depart for home.

The Reveal

Ahh yes, the BBQ Bacon Sirloin burger. What's not to love about that? BBQ is awesome even if it is from the south, bacon is....fucking bacon, and sirloin is the Cadillac of meats; no buttholes and jowls for this sucker. But, will all this rolled into one mean awesomenicity? Let's see...





Hmm. It's pretty big. Peter North big. But the bacon looks less than impressive, and is as limp as Bob Dole. But, what's this? Are those onion rings? Sweet, that totally counts as one of my daily servings of vegetables.

The Mastication

You fuckers and your shitty excuse for BBQ sauce. When will they learn it takes more than a shot of brown sugar in the ketchup? It's so weirdly sweet it really ruins the experience. I can't taste anything else but it. Nothing. Not even the bacon. I repeat: NOT EVEN THE BACON. Not exactly a trip to flavor country. How could something with this combination of toppings be so bland? It's as if Dr. Wily invented a machine capable of removing all flavor and tested it on this burger. I suspect he pumped said flavor into the aforementioned Latina girls' ass.

As for the curly fries, they were pretty much what I expect from every place that offers curly fries. Chewy, smooshy, and greasy. The potato version of George Hamilton.



But, what this burger does have is structural integrity. I could have eaten this thing with one hand in the fast lane without fear of dripping grease on my crotch. So, if that's your thing, I suggest you steer clear. But does that minor feature make a mediocre burger worth almost eight dollars? Hardly. I feel ripped off, like I was fisted by Jack Palance without him even pausing to put down his cigarette.

I give the Jack in the Box BBQ Bacon Sirloin Burger




3/10 flushes

SnakePlissken would like to personally thank the makers of Imodium AD.

If you can count, and have mastered the Gregorian calendar, then you know that today is Cinco de Mayo. This festival of celebration and revelry proudly commemorates the stunning victory of General Ignacio Zaragoza Seguín over Hulk Hogan at Wrestlemania IV in 1988. Or something like that, I think. I'm not sure, I ain't so good at book learnin'. Anywho, what better day to go have some Taco Bell?

First Impressions

Today, I got to see a weird, middle-aged man sit in the parking lot and eat tacos. Not in his car, but sitting on the curb in the sun with his tray, facing the dumpster. Given his proximity to the waste receptacle, I could only assume he was a Taco Bell veteran. I thought briefly about attempting to snap a photo, but he looked a bit stabby and I haven't had health insurance since 2001.

After being put on hold, I went ahead and screamed my order into the magic talkly box and pulled around. Greeting me was a gentleman with what I can only call the weirdest shaped head I've ever seen. I know, I really shouldn't say anything if I can't say something nice, but I seriously expected Cher to pop up behind him at any moment and start belting out "Gypsies, Tramps & Thieves." Soon enough, Eric Stoltz's doppelganger had my $4.99, and I had this little beauty in my hot hands.

The Reveal

According to Adam Carolla, this "everything-in-a-box" concept is a new item for Taco Bell geared towards the fellas. It contains a Bacon Club Chalupa, a Crunchy Taco, a Bean Burrito, Cinnamon Twists, and a large cup of ice. So what's the big damn deal? Nothing really, but men love boxes (winkwinknudgenudgesaynomore) and I hope the concept catches on elsewhere.





My god, I haven't seen a box stuffed that full since my last viewing of the Pam and Tommy video. And, at only five bucks, this could be exactly what Sally Struthers needs to feed all those starving African kids with the big, swollen bellies. I doubt it would help keep the flies off them, though.

The Mastication



First off was the Bacon Club Chalupa, because I fucking love bacon. And this damn near ruined it for me. The flavor was overwhelmingly that of artificial smoke with just a hint of awful. Chug a handfull of bacos and you'll experience the full effect. I'd rather eat a bag of hickory-smoked assholes than this thing again.



A Bean Burrito was the last thing I ever thought anyone could screw up. I was wrong. So very, very wrong. The beans had separated in the tortilla like that ancient jar of Xtra-Chunky Jif I still need to throw out. This made the burrito do an impression of an Olestra eater's lower tract, leaking oily evilness all over my hands and everywhere. If I had been wearing pants they would be ruined.



Just look at this sad little Crunchy Taco. As ill-prepared as the French military, this item really failed to live up to its description. The haphazard application of fillings left the shell soggy and weaker than a vending machine condom, collapsing the structure on my second bite and spilling the contents everywhere. It was almost as if the taco had committed Seppuku right there in my hands, knowing how it had disgraced its taco ancestors.

Oddly enough, the Cinnamon Twists weren't notable in any way. I didn't even bother taking a picture of them. If pressed, I'd say they're not really what I'd call good, but on the other hand not really bad either. Very middle of the road. Sort of like the fast food equivalent of Steve Guttenberg's career.

Overall Impressions

I got exactly what I expected for $4.99. Minor heartburn and a strange grease stain on my shirt that resembled Abe Vigoda. I hope to sell it on eBay and recoup my losses on this venture. I also noticed my camera sucks ass, but that's extraneous.

I give the Taco Bell Big Bell Box Meal:



5/10 flushes

SnakePlissken has no prints for sale in his journal blog.