A joy forever.

Life is a series of comings and goings. We are on this planet for little more than a hiccup, passing in and out of each other’s lives, hoping to make an impact along the way and leave a lasting impression on a world so quick to forget that which is gone.

Yet the truly great are never forgotten.

History is marked and made by such great events and individuals, those that display a degree of power and influence during their stay on Earth that to even attempt to forget them would be utterly impossible. But even though the memories will remain, the loss of great ones is never easy to accept.

And such is the case with the McRib. Never has a molded, pork-based sandwich held so much sway over the emotions of so many people.
From Adam’s Rib came Eve; from the McRib came gastronomic pleasures that had never been seen before, and sadly, come the end of this year, shall never be seen again.

A great one is passing: The McRib ’06 Farewell Tour is now underway. May this be a preemptive eulogy for a friend who has given me so much and asked so little in return. You’re not even gone yet, McRib, and I miss you already.

Our friend the McRib was sprung upon an unsuspecting public in the summer of 1981, an event that made the year’s other “big news” (Charles and Diana marry, Reagan almost assassinated, first Space Shuttle launch) seem trivial and pathetic in comparison. 1981 was the McRib, and the McRib was 1981. Anyone who says anything different is a granola chewing-homosexual-pinko-commie. That’s a fact.

“A rib (shaped) sandwich!?! Served instantly!?! You’ve got to fucking kidding me!?!” was the cry undoubtedly heard on every corner during that magical summer. But even though the McDonald’s mascot is indeed a clown, there was no joking going on when it came to the McRib. This sandwich was as serious the heart attacks that idiots said were caused by eating to many McRibs. This sandwich demanded respect.

Not all were up to the challenge.

Einstein famously stated: “Great spirits have always encountered opposition from mediocre minds.“ This is just as true, if not way, way truer in the world of assembly line-produced, rib-shaped sandwiches as it is with advanced theoretical physics.

Some unenlightened/retarded members of the buying public not only found the McRib to be an undesirable sandwich, but actually a disgusting one. They cited reports stating the sandwich was made with the scraps and bones from pigs and discarded pork products that were then artificially molded into a shape that “resembled” ribs. They called the mysterious, sometimes clear, sometimes reddish, kinda-barbecue sauce “repulsive” and “unnatural.” As for the 36 grams of fat and 500 calories per McRib, these people decided those numbers were not part of a healthy lifestyle.

Obviously, all these people will one day be burning in the deepest level of hell. After remaining on the McDonald’s permanent menu (The PerMen) for close to five years, the McRib was pulled.

Being a business interested in the bottom line, McDonald’s began a strategy of appeasement as an attempt to pacify the Satanic, child-molesting, club-footed McRib haters. But at the same time, they saw to it that they would not fully deprive the sane and functioning members of society their God given right to enjoy the Majesty of McRib. And so began the annual McRib revivals, an event that was to become far more anticipated, significant and delicious than Christmas, Easter, and Arbor Day combined.

Every year the tender phoenix would rise from its sweet and tangy ashes. McRibs would be available once a year for a limited time. All was right with the world. To paraphrase Jesus Christ, “The McRib was the Alpha and the Omega.”

And now…it’s all coming to an end. McDonald’s has announced 2006 to be the final year of McRibukkah. The world we live in today with our tofu-based bran rice and wheat-germ based enemas is not the type of place for McRib. The McRib was an elegant sandwich for a more civilized time…before the dark times, before the vegans.

I wish I knew the words to Taps

It’s going to be hard to say goodbye. I know how Rocky felt when Apollo died. A sweet, dark-meated thing that he loved was gone, lying dead in a corner covered in red sauce, never to be part of his life again. I now know this type of pain.

And so ends an era. An end, yes, but an era that will never be forgotten. I relish in the fact that I have tripped the light fantastic with a McRib in hand. I have been born unto new worlds of taste and satisfaction. The McRib was truth. The McRib was justice. The McRib WAS the American way. All hail the McRib.

Goodnight, sweet prince. Stay saucy.