Thursday, November 23, 2006


These two things are not equal.

Ever since 2001, we here at HPO have been struggling with the age old question: "What is a sandwich?" The short answer, unfortunately, is that there is no short answer. It all began when we read in a very informative encyclopedia about baseball that we kept in the can that "a hot dog was a sandwich."

Beg your pardon?

It doesn't matter where you're from, what color your hair is, or whatever un-holy god you believe in, there is no way that a hot dog is a sandwich. But why? Can we tangibly sum this up?

General knowledge powerhouse Wikipedia defines a sandwich as "a food item typically consisting of two pieces of leavened bread between which are laid one or more layers of meat, vegetable, cheese, together with optional or traditionally provided condiments, sauces, and other accompaniments."

Under this definition, a hot dog is a sandwich. However, Wikipedia suspiciously omits the hot dog from its List of Sandwich Styles... The bottom line is that every blue-collar, working-class Johnny Punchclock knows that a hot dog is not a sandwich; it's a fucking hot dog.

So where's the difference? Well, when posing this question to the almighty Question Board under the alias Mark "Word to Your" Mulder back in 2003, we got a response that made sense, although the logic behind the thinking may have been rather partisan. But, the source for the QB's thinking was "The Encyclopedia of Food and Culture", a more than credible source.

But then again, you get degenerates like this fucking quack who fell so far off the sandwich wagon when it clunked its way through town that you wonder if they've ever purchased cold cuts in their lives!

Down the well it goes!

Arguing about what constitutes a sandwich is a lot like a midget basketball game: The goal is a lot lower than it usually is, and everyone is arguing about who the tallest midget is, even though it doesn't really matter because around the corner a 300-lb Mexican guy is waiting for the bus, and he could squash all of them in about two seconds anyways.

If you ask us what our definition of a sandwich is, we can't be sure, but we know of a few general guidelines:

  1. You gotta be able to hold the thing in your hand (no fork or knife required)
  2. There's gotta be some bread, and there's gotta be something inside the bread or on it
  3. Matching the above two descriptions still does not guarantee that it is necessarily a sandwich (for example, a hot dog)

So, the matter is pretty complicated. But, a few days ago, Superior Judge Jeffrey Locke did the sandwich world a monumental favor when he ruled that a "sandwich is not commonly understood to include burritos, tacos, and quesadillas. [Burritos] are typically made with a single tortilla and stuffed with a choice filling of meat, rice and beans."

In the words of sandwich expert Chris Schlesinger: "I know of no chef or culinary historian who would call a burrito a sandwich. Indeed, the notion would be absurd to any credible chef or culinary historian."

The above legal proceedings between Qdoba and Panera can best be summed up using an analogy. And since our friend Greg over at Sportsblah came up with a really good one, we thought we would use it here (slightly modified for contextual purposes):

Imagine a grown with no arms playing with a wolverine. He plays, laughs, fills with joy. You watch, eat chips and know it won't end well. But an hour goes by, the man is intact and everything is fine. The impossible looks like it might happen. Then, out of nowhere, without warning, he gets hit by a train. Judge Jeffrey Locke is the train. The man, Panera. The wolverine, Qdoba. His lack of arms, boating accident. This one won't even be close.

Wet and wild.

So, there's this product on sale called "Ultimate Anal Douche Hygienic System easy to clean Rectal Syringe". We originally found this product while perusing through the outstanding Douche-O-Rama website. Anyways, God only knows what you do with this thing when you buy it, but here is one owner's review of the product:
Not so fast . . . I use this around the garage. If you are picky about your car and do your own detailing like I do, you'll find that nothing can inject your preferred cleanser into those hard to reach vent intakes and door jambs like the Ultimate Anal Douche. The long spout is a good "third hand" for awkward repairs, like brake jobs. Also, since my dog sleeps in the garage, I find that this thing doubles as a handy "vet's assistant" when the kids have fed him too many cookies, if you know what I mean. If you are looking for value without all the frills, try and find the more economical Brutal Anal Douche.
There are several things wrong with this guy, as shown by the following excerpts from his brilliant little speech:
  • "The long spout is a good 'third hand' for awkward repairs, like brake jobs." Sorry, asshole, but whenever we have ever repaired our car, never has a douche been involved.
  • "My dog sleeps in the garage... this thing doubles as a handy 'vet's assistant' when the kids have fed him too many cookies, if you know what I mean." No, we don't know what you mean. In fact, we have no fucking idea what that could possibly mean. If you even consider sticking that thing that you use for door jambs up your German Shepherd's tucus, then you should be locked away for a long, long time, you twisted demented pervert.
  • "Try and find the more economical Brutal Anal Douche." What in the hell is going on here?

Fake plastic turkey. Cheesy Dubya smile.

As we were informed by one of correspondents, Jelly, President Bush recently pardoned two turkeys, named Flyer and Fryer, meaning that they will not be killed and then enjoyed with stuffing and cranberry sauce tonight, but will live the rest of their turkey lives in heaven. First, the turkeys are being flown first class to Disneyland where they will be grand marshals of the Thanksgiving Day Parade.

Lucky bastards.

However, CBS incorrectly points out that Harry S. Truman began the tradition of pardoning turkeys, when in fact it was Abraham Lincoln who pardoned the first turkey after his son Tad became emotionally attached to the flightless bird.


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