Five Guys named No (with apologies to Louis Jordan)
President Obama went to a Five Guys to buy some burgers today. Which, by the way, I had no idea was a chain. I noticed one a few miles from my house and should have known it wasn’t local (locally owned restaurants with chefs that actually have a clue are few and far between around here), but hadn’t really though at all about it until today. At any rate, I’m assuming his little visit will turn into a news item for fawning commentators everywhere, be talked about on late night TV by people like that smarmy spastic colon Jimmy Fallon, and become fodder for plenty of crappy local newscasters’ giggle-fits all across the country, so I’m not really interested in adding to that.
However. There’s something horribly fucked up that went down in that burger joint that I’d like to point out. I’m sure everyone else will skim over it (like they pretty much ignored Obama’s failure to say jack-shit about the horrible “don’t ask, don’t tell” military policy last week), but I refuse to turn away from the tough stories. This one is really hard to talk about though; I almost passed on it just to avoid thinking about it. But I figured if I could post that photo of Captain Tea Bag, I could man up and talk about this too.
The issue: his burger, oh my bitches, his burger. He ordered a cheeseburger (ok) with lettuce, tomato (I’m no fan of tomato on burger, but ok) jalapenos (now we’re getting somewhere. A jalapeno pepper is as close to a God as I’m willing to believe in; maybe the President is my kinda meat eater), and……..oh no….not…. no, no, no, don’t…… oh crap: mustard. Fucking mustard. What a tease, making me think he might know how to eat grilled cow, then spraying the agent orange of beef condiments all over it.
How in holy hell can we expect this guy to run the country when fucks up a perfectly good burger?
The President of the United States considering the best way to ruin a burger.
In Obama’s defense, at least he bought Brian Williams a burger too (in a past life, a very close friend of mine used to sell that tall, beautiful bastard suits: says he’s a hell of a guy), but he probably put something gross on that one too.
By the way, does anyone know who I have to make my wife sleep with to get the President to stop by our store?
Burger whore????? WTF???????
What a combo! Like peanut butter and chocolate, but with burger meat and hookers instead.
Man I wish I’d thought of that subheading originally.
Well, I can not agree with you more, but there must be people out there who do it. McD’s quarter pounder comes with mustard, and I cringe when I forget to have them hold it! I have never understood ketchup on hot dogs either, though I made a child who will only eat it that way. He also puts ketchup on salami. Whats up with that?
What’s up with that? I’ll tell you what’s up with that. The boy needs to be slapped is what’s up with that.
That’s it. First I’ll write a post explaining what mustard is for and then I’m joining the Vagina Monologues!
Just keep the mustard off the vagina.
I am hanging my head in disappointment over the choice of mustard (AGAIN!) on a burger by the president. It was Dijon, not the leftover, unusually bright colored, crappy stuff you use at 4am at a BBQ when all the good stuff is gone. Somehow I could have accepted that yellow stuff as an endearing childhood preference rather than this continual slander at a national icon. What is must distressing is that he ordered it medium-well, that’s just wrong.
Brian Williams had ketchup, which should never find its way on a hotdog.
Well said, Erica – The fact that it was Dijon DOES make the whole story even more horrifying; only thing worse would have been asking the burger jockey “excuse me sir, but would you pass the Grey Poupon?” You’re right on with his choice of doneness (not a word outside of commercial kitchens I think) as well. It shows a real lack of understanding when it comes to burgers. Perhaps his handlers wanted him to avoid the possibility of tainted (hehe “taint”) meat, but between that and the mustard disaster, he might just as well have taken a dump on the Jefferson Memorial.
As for Williams, I *told* you my buddy said he was a good guy.
One thing though: your excellent analysis does make me wonder how you have so many details….
Brad: This dovetails very well with this more serious political idea of mine about maybe having a 2nd party in the USA.
At first, I thought that making a big deal about this mustard thing was a reflexive Wingnut reaction to everything the president does and I paid it no mind.
After having read this post for the third time and enjoying more and more each time, I’m getting it. One of the ideas that gets people of different ideologies together as friends is sharing tips on how to order in all kinds of restaurants. You know someone is cool if they have their “order” etched-in for a lot of fast food joints, hidden gems, and even upscale eateries.
When a particular spot comes up in conversation and you can say “what’s your order?” and the person is passionate about it and about getting it right, you know that’s somebody who will be a friend for life.
Two big (though not infallible) keys to the person behind the mask: what they eat, who they bang.
The world saw a perfect example here in small bit of business that has turned ugly with regard to Judge Sotomayor and that guy everybody loves who nominated her for the court and whose name escapes me.
Leaving all opinions about judicial philosophy and who’s better than whom as a justice, when food was the issue, Sotomayor showed me she was someone I’d like to hang out with and the president’s dragging her around to every Republican and Right Wing Democrat to apologize for liking the food in Neoyorquino coffee shops showed me that he’s a limp dick.
THE WOMAN KNOWS HER ORDER, WHETHER IN “SUCELT COFFEE SHOP” OR “FLOR DE MAYO” OR ANY OF THE HUNDREDS OF THEM.
I missed this entire story, though based on what you’re saying here, I couldn’t agree more – got a link with details? And does anyone else think of boxing every time Judge Sotomayor’s name is mentioned?
Boxing, Brad? The answer to your question is YES YES YES YES YES YES.
You’ve forgotten perhaps in which city and in which country I live. Latin America is sick about boxing. The heavies suck now anyway ,so the great action is in the lights and that’s Latin America, man.
I also grew up 8 blocks from the Garden in Hudson Guild. My father took me to the fights from when I was 5 or something. One of the fondest ongoing memories of childhood was sitting on my dad’s shoulders and walking up to the Garden for the fights and eating at Paddy’s Clam House. This was in the early 70s, too, when boxing was as popular in New York as it is in LA CDP now and it’s a religion here.
If you go to my FB page you’ll see my son with Caballero (superflyweight champ), Vasquez (former flyweight champ) and Concepcion (#7 contender in flyweight div), Chemito Moreno (super bantam champ). I go every time there’s a card in the city. I follow the sport obsessively.
My son is really small, right, so when he was 3 I thought it would be a good idea to teach him basic punches so he wouldn’t get bullied and if it got to wretling on the ground, I worried he’d get hurt. So, boxing it was.
He took to it crazily and by the time he was 5, I had nothing more to show him. When he’s here with me in August and school vacations, I take him to Los Rockeros Gym, “the cradle of champions,” and he takes lessons from Anselmo Chavez, the guy who trained Duran, Morillo, Caballero, Chemito Moreno…all the Panamanina belt holders from the last 30 years.
I get to say the thing I guess every dad would like to say about his son: Julian has never lost a kid fight. He has absolutely buried big kids on the playground, too. He’s so fucking small every kid thinks they than shove him around, but he’s known how to throw punches so it never mattered how big a kid was who aggressed on him.
When he was 6, I took him to Union Square playground after school. Some big kid comes toward him aggressively and Julian hit him a left in stomach and then and overhand right to his eye and that kid fell and was wailing. All the mothers and nannies and shit gather around the big kid who’s screaming and covering his left eye.
I have no idea at this point how it’s going to go down, so I watch. He’s pacing around and the mothers and nannies have got the big kid on his feet and my son addresses them all this way: “I’ve got a medium left but I’ve got a ROCKET RIGHT!” And then he blows on his fists.
Brad, I lost my shit I was laughing so hard.
*snort*! One of your more serious posts, eh?
heeey, don’t knock tomatoes on burgers! When you grow about a million of them, you put them on everything (sub in “I” for “you”). Mustard, though, I have to say I agree with you.
Hmm, as for whom to make Jo sleep with…uh, how about Michelle herself?