Unnamed Journal Volume 4, Issue 1 | Page 31

When adding an element to the mix, the nomenclature changes accordingly. In this way, no one gets cheese or bacon on their hamburger without ordering it. But for some fucking reason, despite never once in my born days ordering a Tomato cheeseburger, I keep finding the bleeding little death-chunks leaving snotty residues of themselves on perfectly good sandwiches. For some reason, we have been conditioned by the system to believe that a tomato is a normal thing to expect on a sandwich, and there’s something wrong with you if you prefer not to have bitter pockets of seed goop soiling the flavor of good meat. There is no good reading to ever have a tomato on a sandwich. None. (By the way, if anyone has a problem with my conflating hamburgers and sandwiches, because you’re of that species of dork that thinks the debate of sandwich ontology a breathtaking display of clever irony, I suggest you find a hobby that doesn’t make you a waste of a human zygote. Like selling crack. Or lawn darts.) And again, I don’t care how much you like them. Some people like tomatoes so much they’ll just eat one with a slice of mozzarella. So fucking what? Some people eat tripe. Some people eat pickled pig’s feet. There’s an entire European nation that thinks it proper to stuff sheep guts inside other sheep guts and bake it in an oven and ingest what comes out. In Southeast Asia they put dead cobras at the bottom of a bottle of whiskey and leave them there for no reason God can fathom. People eat weird stuff. Keep your weird stuff to yourself, and don’t act like I’m the problem if I decline to eat your weird stuff. Now some of you might be wondering “do you moan this much about finding unordered lettuce, or onions, on a burger?” The answer is no. Because lettuce has the decency to hang in the background, providing roughage and texture, not insisting upon itself, and onions, while a bit more obtrusive, are at least complimentary to the overall savoriness going on. Tomatoes are unable to be team players in this manner. They might hide in the lettuce for a bite, but soon they’re going to let you know that this is