Oh, and another thing. I was het up about my glasses yesterday. I didn't even start to tell you about Wendy's buns, because I would have PLAIN STRAIGHT UP LOST whatever tenuous hold I had on life.
After I had suffered the trials of Lenscrafters, I looked for something to eat. No family dinner - wife was playing tennis, daughter was at a meeting at the library to discuss Issues. I knew everything that was in the area, and judged them all with brisk cruelty: McDonald's? No. Not actual food, too much bun. Taco Bell? Guily pleasure, but had homemade burrito for lunch. Chick Fil-A? As much as it pains me, I don't like the waffle fries. MyBurger? Best fast-casual around, but too much. Panda Express? Last Wednesday with daughter, so no, and we're having a rice-augmented dish for dinner Thursday. Smashburger? Never again, because the last time the staff was jerky and the place smelled of old fetid rags. Quoba? Again, the Mexican issue, and I don't like it. Chipotle? Too much, and the lingering notion I will be perched on the porcelain like Craig Breedlove riding the Spirit of America.
Wendy's! Yes. Because of the chili-sauce packets. So I went to Wendy's. Had a small burger. Upon taking a bite the speed with which the order had been completed revealed their perfidy; it was dry and old. But the bun. Did they do something to to the bun? It was like fluffy sawdust. Previously it had been limp, yes, but that was part of the Juicy Experience they promised. This - this thing was inedible.
Did they do something to the bun?
On the way out I saw a sign that said they were proud to serve new Bakery-Fresh Buns, so yes. They did something to the bun. It made me realize that I would never, ever go to Wendy's again - and that I had to tell them this. The receipt said I could go to talktowendys.com and tell them what I thought, and this I did once home. But there was only one options for bun-judging; there was stupid marketing stuff like this:
That's the most idiotic question I've ever seen on these surveys. I don't care whether your decisions validate some long-in-the-works internal strategy about maximizing menu-item philosophical cohesion; I came for a burger and it sucked.
But: I was invited to take a detailed survey, which I was happy to do. It got down to bun talk, because they were obviously interested in how the new product was being received. I dealt that bun one death-blow after the other, hoping there would be an open comments box - and there was! What would you like to tell the CEO? Your ill-considered bun overhaul turned me off your brand forever. DON'T YOU KNOW HOW THE BUN LANDSCAPE HAS CHANGED.
It has; it had to. The aforementioned MyBurger is a local chain, and they understand the role of the bun; it's toasted and buttered, always fresh. I will not serve anything patty-related at home unless I have the Egg-Recipe Buns from Kowalski's, which are soft, but not Wonderbread soft. Target buns: might as well made of newspaper. Trader Joe's buns - nice graphics, but where'd you get these, King Tut's tomb? Institutional buns ruin the meal. I mean, if I'd had less self-control I would have walked across the parking lot shouting I CANNOT SEE CLEARLY AND THE BUNS ARE DRY NOW. It sounds like madness, but it was the truth.
Pupdate: why doesn't he have his own graphic?I don't know. But here's a good dog:
Many details this week. Let's start with the worst. I mentioned that the Nicollet Mall s being redone? Some people have wondered why it's necessary. Well:
It's not a fair view; City Center makes everything look bad. The detritus is from construction. When it's done, this will actually look good, possibly because it will be obscured by trees.
Back to Downtown East: let's look at a site from last year.
It's done now - and leasing.
What was a parking lot is now this revenue-generating machine. Before it was a parking lot, though, it was arow of small brick buildings . . . about the size of the apartments on the spot now.
We continue with music cues for "The Little Things in Life," Peg Lynch's last continuously running sitcom. The cues run from substandard 60s cues to cringingly 70s.
Because falling down the stairs is funny
Now that I know some of the music was used in cartoons, I can't help but think all of it came from cartoons.
Oh, this burns.
But then it turns around and gets all . . . I don't know, Mannix-swank.
Wowww.
Another Mr. Muscle from 1975
Less bitter
Last week the housewife was miserable and resentful - promises, promises! - but this one manages to say the last line as if there's no innuendo intended at all.
This week's Bob & Ray sketch:
Mr. District Defender.
Another show no one remembers these days: Mr. District Attorney. It was a mystery show about a Crusading District Attorney, extraordinarily popular, with stories RIPPED, I tell you RIPPED from the headlines. In the Bob & Ray version, he's headstrong and completely wrong, all the time.
Mrs. Porn?
Let's go to Paris, where bad mimes bore hard women:
It's those damned accordians that make it French, don't you know.
One of England's most popular and enduring bandleaders. Don't know how his name has endured in the UK, but he's not up there with Riddle and Hefti in the American memory. Inasmuch as those names are remembered much outside of a few greybeard recollections. Alas.
