Maybe Mom was right. I shouldn't put all my eggs in one basket when it comes to giving myself away to one corporation or another. That's why I'm going to take a few days off from courting Novartis and will be working my charm on McDonald's instead. Now there's a place with sponsorship money to burn...I've disassembled a Big Mac and will be going over the wholesome, nutritious contents one bit at a time. Today: the meat.
First of all, my apologies for the quality of the photo. It was taken under standard fluorescent kitchen lighting, which somehow fails to capture the ash-grey quality of the patties. Also, the resolution was too low to catch the many tasty scraps of connective tissue in the patties. A typical McDonald's patty has way more springiness going for it than the ones Mom used to make. The patties have a delightful resiliency... you can bend and stretch them in ways you just couldn't with home-made burgers. Try it yourself!
The meat has a lovely mouth-feel to it, like a warm greasy futon.
I also love the way McDonald's lets you know in its advertising that they only serve burgers made with "Grade A beef." By law, anything other than Grade A beef can't be served to humans. Grade B beef is reserved for dog food and such.
Personally, I'd love to work for a place so powerful it can attempt to change the English language itself, and can even enlist elected politicians to help. Now that's what I call packin' a corporate punch!
When I got this burger, you should have seen how delighted the staff was. They were having a great time! I want a job somewhere I can be totally blank-eyed with delight like those guys were. They were so overwhelmed with job satisfaction that they came across like assembly-line robots: so enthralled that nothing else was on their minds. At all. I assume the company provides some sort of steady-dosage morphine drip to get that effect... which in turn implies some sort of medical coverage. Who needs a union?
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