Ho. Lee. Shiz.
I was kidding (kinda) when I said I wouldn’t be surprised if McDonald’s started to try their hand at delivering. But, indeed, it looks like the fast food carnival czar will be imminently making it even easier to infest your intestines with their grease-fests. Just like I prognosticated in a previous blog (when they finally relented and started offering all-day breakfast, which they’ve never been willing to do before losing so much dough as they currently are):
“I wouldn’t be surprised (provided that they continue to lose money like this) if their next desperation measure will indeed be a delivery option…”
-(Me, one to three hundred articles ago.)
And while that was meant to be a sorta snide, hyperbolic jab – it’s coming to pass now.
Or at least it’s beginning to – with the maiden voyage of convenient obesity initiating in New York.
(The Korean delivery style. I feel like it’s no accident those food containers look like kennel carriers…)
Specifically, Manhattan, Queens and Brooklyn are launching the service first. I’m guessing they’re only doing a few locales because the fee is based on “geographic distance traveled by the courier as well as a standard service charge.” Great way to charge you more after you wait for up to an hour for the novelty of eating a tepid temp bovine between buns, battered bits of bird in turd shapes, and all their other specialties. Except, obviously, the infamous soft-serve ice cream cone. Which, actually, we shouldn’t write off as their next step – if they keep taking cues from my snarky articles.
‘cause my next line about them delivering went thusly:
“Shit, I bet they wouldn’t need to. Just roll through the neighborhood, ice cream truck style – throwing adipose globs at the fat children (who’ve finally come outside to do exercise) like singles at a stripper.”
Damn. I kinda feel like the author from that Ruby Sparks movie who writes reality into existence.
Let’s try it out:
“…and then, one evening, the McDonald’s delivery driver appeared at the door of one Miss Ashley Pants – mistaking her address for the corpulent neighbors’. But in the fast food bag was Ronald McDonald’s bank account password. Naturally, she logged in, drained said account, probably had to use half of it to pay for the delivery fee, and then took the rest and moved to Cancun….”