By: Dr. Dale Wiesenfield, Theoretical Physicist
Fools! What new streak of thoughtless mongrelism is this, Yum! Brands Inc.? In your increasingly indelicate quest to render food faster, crunchier, and by all informed accounts more delicious, you have exceeded the boundaries of constancy erected by nature Herself. This newest luncheon novelty of yours, this so-named Wrapstar, stands in direct opposition to chaotic physical harmony of our known universe. What sane man could knowingly concoct such an impossible amalgam of Kentucky Fried Chicken-style poultry strips and the enduring compactability of a Taco Bell-style wrap? What but Frankensteinean hubris could provoke such disregard of natural biocomplexity? Fried chicken, a slice of processed cheese, crunchy tostada, peppered mayonnaise, tomato salsa, crisp lettuce and diced tomato, folded, wrapped and grilled to order? No closed system can support such a staggering federation of flavour.
Herr Colonel, as man of science, a man of reason and above all else a man of God, I implore you to halt this aberrant genetic barn dance. Like Icarus, you have flown too close to the sun on warm flour wings of tortilla.
While the concept of the shared-space KFC/Taco Bell restaurant has always struck me as more than a little anomalistic (deep fried Dixieland politicking and a Diablo-may-care “head for the border” mentality seem strange bedfellows indeed), I have always been able to excuse it as yet another in a long line of unlikely corporate marriages (following petroleum and cigarettes, peanut butter and jelly). And of course, a man of my, well, appetites is not above the concept of pairing a wing and a thigh with some soft tacos and crunchy cinnamon sticks. I’ve also indulged the synthesizing of Pepsi and 7UP as provisional recourse to my beverage of choice, Ginger Beer, at so many of your soda fountains.
Indeed, there was always something ambitious about your particular contempt for the flesh that struck me as a sort of succulent, if fashionable, transhumanism. Somewhere around the time your Pizza Huts began baking mozzarella cheese into the crust, however, I knew that your voracity for experimentation had given way fully to a godless gluttony matched only by that of the thickset patrons of your lunch buffet. And still you persist. For your Wrapstar is something more. It is the seeming culmination of humanity’s whole storied history of bad ideas. And I will not suffer it.
To be sure, Yum! Brands Inc., you have been spiraling lopsided towards this culinary oblivion for some time. Your fate was sealed when, peerless in your own arrogance, you severed a financially symbiotic relationship with Pepsi Co., not unlike the suckling Tithonian Urvogel who quits the relative comfort of the mother’s nest for the Stygian abyss of the world outside. But now your conceit has transcended itself, evolving into a transgression of the natural order which jeopardizes the already precarious balance of this, our known universe. What engenders such lofty braggadocio? Are your pockets not already abundantly stuffed with your American dollars that you would chance such errant tosses of fortune’s cruel dice?
Beset on all fronts by your monstrously misguided attempts to immanentize the eschaton, I feel myself here benumbed. How, after all, can the efforts of one mortal man, of one refined ethical consciousness, neutralize a deviation so staggering as what you have here proffered? It is thus with cap in hand that I relinquish myself to your enchilada-tight dynamic system and renounce my belief in any solace I once took in notions of the natural pandemonium. It is with heavy heart that I beg of you: One, please.