I only learned now that advertisements like this were never to celebrate, but to warn. The McRib is like a food adjacent war crime that millions willingly stumble into each year and it needs to stop. Normally I bury the lead on articles like this but not today. I ate one of those slabs of gross and it honestly made my whole year worse. Now today wasn’t the best as I always go to the store on Wednesdays. Usually these Wednesdays aren’t the day before Christmas Eve. Now I like order and stability when I have a regularly scheduled task. Shopping is no different. I go grab some 2 for $5 Whoppers at Burger King and then go do my shopping on full tummy. Today, somehow, Burger King’s broiler broke so they had no burgers. As the employee was explaining what they did have to offer I saw across the street a flowing banner in McDonald’s parking lot. “It’s back” was all I read before just popping away from the Burgerless King.

Excitedly I drove off mid explanation to get a McRib. I remember having one awhile ago. Back when I would eat Smarties by the bowlful mind you. So clearly my perception of good was an unreliable narrator for this decision. What the hell though, you only live once.

So the first thing I noticed after getting my bag of shame. The Bag of Shame Meal is 2 McDoubles, a McRib, and a medium fries. The McDoubles are for the fridge and midnight eating. So lay off, Judgey McJudgerson. It’s McDonald’s no matter how much or little I’d have eaten it was a bad call for my physical health. It was the McRib that was terrible on my mental health. The first thing that hit me was the smell. It smelled like I was in a Batman plot with Joker burgers or some other TAS kinda thing.

The only way to describe it would be agressive. The kind of smell that makes you nervous of what comes next. The smell of artificial pork and grade C Honey. I was immediately aware that bad choices had been made in rapid succession. In a sense of denial I eat a few fries and try to justify eating the doubles instead. Ultimately the fries run out and the choice needs to be made. I gritted my teeth and went for. I would rather dive head in now rather than live in the fear of what was waiting in my fridge. The cardboard clamshell already falling apart from the viscous fluids seeping forth. I never got a clear sight of it. Just passing glances under streetlights gleaming off it’s deep red shine as the car speeds down the interstate. Rain pounding my windshield in late December setting the tone for how bad things have gone. As the mossy roll rests in my fingers I feel a long smooth something rush across my skin. I close my eyes, count to three, and raise it to my lips as I rip off the first tenuous bite. Sudden sour sauces slide down my tongue. So vivid a disdain it made me pull a Data.

So shockingly bad I had to go back in. This sour slimy Banquet frozen dinner patty was murdered with pickle slips and some odd onion petals? That’s the only thing I could guess was on it. From sour to tangy in-between bites. Every toothy rend releasing new and equally abhorrent flavors as the nebulous toppings seeming swirl around the McGoo coating my hand. My mind racing as I try to come to terms with what was inside me when suddenly it was gone. An uneasy silence as my dark fate was beginning to manifest. Breathing through my mask became so unsettling I had to grab some mints. I loath mint if you didn’t know. For me to willingly choose a headache over McRib breath should be, infact it will be my final verdict.

“The McRib, I’d rather have a headache” now go out and disregard my warning and try one for yourself.