Not that you’d know that from the weakstream media. Sinking anchors drowning in their own self-importance and parroting talking points while clucking and chirping at mortified guests. These are hosts of major shows with that seizure-inducing red Chyron endlessly flashing on screen. This should not be confused with Chiron, a popular centaur best known for his piercing wit, searing wisdom and sautéing judiciousness. Half man, half horse, all common sense.
They see no difference between a Reuben, with its sky-high stack of corned beef dripping after a liberal dose of Thousand Island dressing, and a fresh caprese sandwich on ciabatta - just like your Nonna used to bake it. “It’s all bread. So what are we quibbling about?” These are the same fools who draw no distinction between pastrami and corned beef. Good luck convincing Shlomo and Seamus.
These lunatics sit there under the hot lights of cable news, behind dangerously angular desks without so much as a halved tennis ball to blunt the force of a sharp corner into a soft thigh. Resting atop plush-but-not-too-plush couches. Wouldn’t want any loud upholstery distracting from the important news of the day. They're probably eating wraps and salads in their spare time, passing judgment on food they won't and can't ever understand.
These nightly ninnyhammers drool over a BLT, but completely ignore the subtle, yet important differences of a turkey club. To them, they're the same. Both are eaten, both are beloved. Why fret about the rest? Lobster Rolls and Po’ Boys are just two individuals in the bready tapestry that comprise the delicious sandwich experience. Each sandwich is unique and special. They have their own hopes and dreams.
Sandwiches aren’t all the same. Some are cheesy, toasted and spicy. Others are cold, wet and sweet. They are a diverse bunch, varied and complex, and deserve to be treated as such. You can have a sandwich for breakfast, lunch or dinner. You can down one for dessert or a quick snack. You can inhale one on the road or on a smooth piece of chipless china at a fancy bistro. You can eat one at a ballgame high up in the nosebleeds or sprawled across a roof deck under the shimmering Aurora.
When in need of sleep, a sandwich is a pillow. When desperate for beauty, a sandwich is a work of art. And when dying for companionship, a sandwich is a friend.
Start listening to your friend.
Start listening to your friend.
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