The fried peanut-butter-and-banana sandwich is a gateway sandwich. Containing approximately 36 grams of fat, beloved by such men of infamy as Bill Clinton and (of course) Elvis Presley, this sandwich is obviously the first step of many towards either a) the most successful political career possible in the Western World and a couple of blowjobs, or b) rock and roll, hair product, celebrity as a sex symbol, drugs, obesity, and eventual death on a toilet.
And someday, maybe twenty years from now, when I’m awaiting my undignified end on the bathroom floor of a disreputable nightclub, bad heroin coursing through the veins of my horribly bloated body, my vision narrowing, sweat soaking my sequined jumpsuit, I will rue the day I ever touched a frying pan. Until then. . .
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