Wednesday, January 16, 2008

The 5 Best Foods That Will Kill You

Life isn’t fair; how else can you explain why alcohol causes hangovers, why greasy food is unhealthy, and why it’s still illegal to clone supermodels? Once you’ve come to this simple conclusion, you’ll find it incredibly satisfying to just sit back and torment the oblivious bastards who think otherwise. So, to honor the surplus of soon to be vanquished New Year’s resolutions, I cheerfully present the top 5 delicious meals that will ensure you die a slow and painful death.

•Eggs Benedict:

It is often said that breakfast is the fuel for your whole day. If you order an Eggs Benedict breakfast, that "fuel" will mostly go toward powering trips to diabetes doctors and a heart specialist. Don’t be fooled by the smarty-pants-sounding name--Eggs Benedict is purely for us stupid folk, still governing our meals by taste rather than calorie count. Let's take you inside the dish: buttered English muffin halves are topped with poached eggs, bacon or ham and then doused in hollandaise sauce; sure it looks like somebody jerked off all over your Denny’s Grand Slam, but in reality, the only thing orgasmic about this morning heart-clogger is the taste. While the eggs, bread and cured meat are typical breakfast staples, it’s the egg yolk and butter-based hollandaise sauce that truly sets this dish apart in both the taste and death (via cholesterol) department. So the next time you’re skulking around a strip joint at 9 a.m., take a pass on the “eggs & legs” special for once, and let Eggs Benny dance on your tongue.

•Chicken Wings:

Outside of the internet and pornography, beer and chicken wings are without question the greatest combination in the history of the universe. Often referred to as mortal man’s kryptonite, the lure of the chicken wing lies in its beautiful simplicity. Cut off chicken’s appendage, cover with breading, throw in a deep fryer, bathe in your favorite spicy flavoring, dip in ranch or dill sauce, stuff into mouth, inhale and repeat. With martinis, the common refrain is “one is not enough, and three is too many”, but with the chicken wing, I would suggest, “one is not enough, 25, eeeh, still probably not enough." The appeal may also be rooted in the primitive nature of tearing an animal’s flesh off the bone, or perhaps just being served by large-busted women clad in tight orange, ham-wallet exposing shorts. Either way, in all their deep-fried goodness, chicken wings provide an exceptional heart-stopping friend to your beer and your cardiologist.

•The Cuban Burger:

Although I’ve never actually seen the burger served in Cuba (a place I've been to many a time), this temptress of taste is still amazing, be it traditional fare or not. I was completely snapped on tequila & lime when a close friend handed me a sandwich oozing with deliciousness. The next afternoon when I woke up, the past day/night was a blur except for one thing. That glorious concoction of cheese and meat was stuffed down my gullet in record time. I soon learned I had eaten my first Cuban burger and I can honestly say I haven’t had a better (or more dangerous) sandwich since.

Here’s the blueprint, although I should add the following disclaimer: there is a good chance you will get fatter just by reading it. Start with two pieces of buttered bread, add a few pieces of ham, a ¾ cooked hamburger patty, pickles, mayonnaise and two layers of cheese. Combine, wrap in foil, throw on a grill and then cover with a heavy rock or brick. The weight of the rock flattens the sandwich so it actually fits in your mouth, and it comes out a few minutes later dripping with cheese, grease, mayo and tastes so heavenly you’d swear Chris Farley made it. Your first instinct will be to eat another one immediately but unless you live within vomiting distance of a hospital, I would strongly, strongly suggest you stop at one.


Despite popular opinion, the French are not completely devoid of worth. You have French-kissing, the French-cut Bikini, and last but certainly not least, Poutine. For the uninitiated, Poutine can be roughly translated to mean, “damn mess," and consists of French fries, cheese curds and hot brown gravy. I have my own translation for it, “de-fuckin-licious." The steaming hot fries and gravy melt the cheese and what you’re left with is gooey gobs of delectable cuisine that will forever have you mumbling “merci beaucoup."

True, eating deep-fried potatoes with congealed cheese and hot lard will momentarily slow your heart rate down to a crawl (and then forever quicken it, especially when stairs are involved), but it’s worth every agonizing minute. You really have to ask yourself how something that tastes so delectable can be so detrimental to your health, but much like an anal exam and watching Oprah, you feel much better if you don’t actually think about it.

•Stuffed Crust Double-Cheeseburger Pizza:

Otherwise known as the “fat-bastard special," this coronary in a cardboard box should probably come with a parental warning. “Letting your child order this pizza will probably lead to him being air-lifted out of bed on a future episode of Jerry Springer." Pizza the Hutt himself would have had a hard time choking down one of these hot and greasy pies but I guess North America had to develop something for fat people who can’t make decisions. Even bulimics won’t touch this offering because the weight gain is so rapid they don’t have time to heave it back up.

If you conform to the notion that pizza is like sex (never bad, just varying degrees of good), than this pizza would be a harem of sex-starved 19 year-old swimsuit models stricken with syphilis. Thinking of it and looking upon it makes you drool worse than Pavlov’s puppies, but bathe in its ocean of greasy pleasure and that sound you hear will be the instantaneous blocking of your aortal valve. I’ve always suffered from a horrendous grease-tooth but this monstrosity offends even my scarce sensibilities.

Just a thought but it should be a pretty good indication that you’ve gone over the line when the only pizza that could possibly be worse for you would be a “deep dish cancer-lovers," but hey, who am I to judge? Enjoy the morbid obesity while it lasts and say hello to Elvis when you see him in hell.

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