i love jack in the box tacos. they’re so utterly bad for you, so completely greasy, the meat product in the bottom so terribly mysterious in origin — you just know this stuff requires a hazmat license to transport across state lines.
and i love it. i don’t wanna know what’s in the things, but they are simply exquisite, as far as something two for ninety-nine cents, that i can pay for with ashtray change. you can’t beat that with a stick. and the damn things give you such amazing heartburn, which keeps the afternoon hunger pangs down to a minimum.
yes, yes, i know, i should read fast food nation and all that. but i don’t wanna know. i mean, i’m pretty sure there isn’t anything that they wouldn’t put in these fifty cent craptastic masterpieces of fastfoodsmanship, and i’m totally ok with that.