According to my friend Barry, that’s how barbecue aficionados describe this infamous Fast Food creation:
![McRib](https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/blogger_img_proxy/AEn0k_uUjj66u1s3lfzX1tCMU2g0cJfyvnAoOumb750ddK-X9Y3pg_aODFwu__zl7lQ8Cw0zFfeb-P0SF9C-H3HAaRnWKyC_9yR9-ZSmy8-VA1suBV1I0ku5FYxFl4i_yZ1KWosF=s0-d)
The McRib.
Faux ’Cue, indeed.
Think on it: a hunk of compressed Zombified Porky Detritus, molded so as to have the appearance of bones, drenched in a gloppy barbecue sauce and served on a bun.
The McRib falls into that select category of foods that I refer to as “Things I Would Eat, Albeit Reluctantly, In The Event Of a Nuclear Holocaust.” About two steps ahead of head cheese.
Not the best idea to come out of Hamburger University, in my not-so-humble opinion. Probably the result of a case of Fallen Golden Arches.
The McRib.
Faux ’Cue, indeed.
Think on it: a hunk of compressed Zombified Porky Detritus, molded so as to have the appearance of bones, drenched in a gloppy barbecue sauce and served on a bun.
The McRib falls into that select category of foods that I refer to as “Things I Would Eat, Albeit Reluctantly, In The Event Of a Nuclear Holocaust.” About two steps ahead of head cheese.
Not the best idea to come out of Hamburger University, in my not-so-humble opinion. Probably the result of a case of Fallen Golden Arches.
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