I'm sure this is no surprise to anyone who reads my blog with any frequency, but I'm not above eating fast food. Some food writers like to scoff at the low quality and questionable origins of fast food, but you know what? Fuck 'em. I love it. I am not ashamed to admit it. While undoubtedly a burger from Wendy's can't really compare to one from Shake Shack, I still have a soft spot in my heart for it. That said, one of my greatest guilty pleasures is McDonald's chicken McNuggets. Yes, I've seen the video of how they're made, and you know what? Don't care. They taste good. That's all that matters. When I saw the giant sign proclaiming I could get 50 for $9.99... shit was on.
Look at that sea of fried golden chicken paste. It is seriously an engineering marvel that they can churn out such delicious things, in the quantities they do, with almost perfect uniformity. To the man who invented the McNugget, I salute you. In any case, as I slowly made my way through my treasure chest of deep-fried poultry, dipping each piece into my vanilla shake (don't hate... it's delicious) and savoring the flavor of every bite, my world of perfect bliss quickly transformed into an insatiable rage...
(sorry for the blurry picture... my hand was shaking from the indescribable amount of anger I was feeling)
What the fuck is this McDonald's? This is not a McNugget. This is half a McNugget... if that. I realize, to you... your promise of "50 McNuggets" is really just a volumetric approximation for the container you serve them, but to me... this is breach of trust. An irreparable chasm in our relationship of some 17 odd years. How could you do this to me? In fact, the reason why this post is coming several weeks late isn't because I'm lazy, but because I had to think about how to creatively craft my fury into words. The point is this... you are dead to me now McDonald's. I will not be returning ever again. At least until St. Patrick's day, when you bring back the Shamrock shake.