Just the thought of a McRib gets my panties all in a bunch. I start to salivate at the thought of processed meat in tangy sauce, wrapped in rubberized buns. The pickles and onions are superb. And the cute little patty which looks absolutely nothing like a rib just drives me up the wall.
It's a genius marketing ploy. McDonald's releases the ersatz rib sandwich on an unsuspecting public only occasionally to create interest. Months go by with no McRib sandwich in sight. Then, all of a sudden, a commercial appears on local stations. McRib is back (for a limited time only). Fans go into a feeding frenzy (literally) and buy nothing but McRib sandwiches every time they go to McDonald's. Big-Mac, what's that? Quarter-Pounder with Cheese, not today. I want a McRib. Then, just when you feel your food dreams have been realized, it is gone. And you wait, expectantly, until it comes back.
I suggest we start a religion, whereby we can make Americans act politely and civilly to each other by suggesting that heaven is filled with 70 virgin McRib sandwiches ready to eat. If you are nice to your neighbors and are productive to society you will be awarded the McRib. That's as good a reason to join a religion as any other.
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