In Defense of Taco Bell
I love Taco Bell.
Now I know this topic is a slippery slope and paves the way for jokes about slippery underwear, because many do not share my passion. I equate this to fastfood ignorance – you truly do not know what you’re missing. I often have this discussion in person, and people give reasons or make faces or make fart noises or actually fart, but my support remains true and unflappable in the face of this food fray.
Taco Bell, I believe in you.
Non-believers, I’m going to break your arguments apart bite by crunchy bite. I’ve heard it all and I’ve been waiting for years for the proper forum to rip you Bell haters a giant, throbbing new one. At last my dream is realized and this particular section of the internet is at my beck and call. Words and sentences, assemble! Carry forth my righteous ideals as I type you!
It’s so easy to scorn Taco Bell because it doesn’t fit in. It’s not a burger -it’s not like other fast foods. You turn your pious noses at chalupas and beefy 5-layer burritos because you don’t have the marbles to mock more established brands. I honestly love Burger King and McDonald’s and they have their place on my fastfood hitlist: right below Wendy’s, which in turn is right below Taco Bell. They’re all fastfood and they’re all fundamentally bad for you, but more on that later. Why pick on Taco Bell? Why are you such a fucking bully? Current news headlines and facebook posts indicate that bullies are bad.
I’m glad I have the opportunity to write a paragraph about meatguns so early on in my blogging career. Yes, watching the Taco Bell assembly line can be less than appetizing, even for a burrito lover like myself. The meat that ends up in your burrito comes from the culinary equivalent of a caulking gun. Is this how burritos were prepared in Mexico in 1815? No. Is this an efficient and somewhat comical method for mass preparing burritos by hand to feed the line that extends out the door of your local Taco Bell every day at 1pm and then again at 6pm? Most definitely. Get off your high horse before I grind it into paste and squirt you with it.
Your poor, inferior insides
“But I can’t eat Taco Bell” you squeal, “it gives me the runs”. (Girls say “It makes my stomach upset” but I’ve learned that this means the same thing) First of all, you are vile. Who wants to talk about that? Secondly, grow up! It’s just a taco, are your intestines made out of tissue paper? Whining about your digestive shortcomings is like complaining that you can’t do more than five push-ups because they’re hard, which I’m betting you can’t anyway. My digestive tract is like solid cast-iron pipes fitted with asbestos and covered in layered kevlar, and it didn’t get that way from me bitching about all the things I couldn’t eat.
I think the quality of the beef is poor
Read that, then email me and say you’re sorry.
It’s bad for you
It’s fastfood, fool! You’re not sitting in line at a Taco Bell or driving through a Wendy’s drive-thru because you set out to be healthy today. Logically we must proceed here under the blanket statement that all fastfood is fundamentally bad for you, or at least worse than most ‘real’ home-prepared food. Trying to pick apart which brand is worse item by item was a moot point before your shriveled, taco-deprived brain even thought of it, unless there are significant differences.
Protip: There aren’t! As far as fastfood goes, TBell is one of the better options. But don’t take my word for it:
I’ll give you a hint, they’re all pretty bad for you.
What possible, tangible reason could a person still have for not wanting a taco? There are those who scorn all types of fastfood, and that’s fine I guess. I mean I just don’t understand you. But if you, like me, enjoy a little indulgence from time to time, you should try burying your face in a taco instead of just another burger. Also the captions on the Hot Sauce packets run the gamut from mildly amusing to downright hilarious.
So let’s recap. It’s lunchtime. You’re thinking outside the bun and you want something different, something delicious. You deserve something delicious. You want to walk away from this meal feeling accomplished and unique, like you just beat a Mogwai at a game of chess. It’s time for Taco Bell.
Pull up to a Taco Bell, heft your bulk out of your car and cross the threshold freely and of your own will. The fresh, exotic taco odor will pleasantly permeate your nostrils; a little foreshadowing for many of your remaining orifices. Waddle to the counter and let ’em have it. You want a Supreme chalupa, a beefy 5-layer burrito, maybe some churros and a goddamned Mexican pizza! Pay the paltry ~$7 and ask for extra Fire Sauce – you’re going all the way this time. While you wait for the Taco Bellers to assemble your meal on their spotless assembly line, fill up your large Dr. Pepper with just a smidge of ice. The food is ready now. Grab a seat, rip open that bag and gratify your mouth. Don’t feel guilty, sure it’s fasftfood but you deserve this. Get balls deep in that chalupa – Can you taste the spicy flavor and feel the crispy crunch of the outer shell? More Fire sauce, then wash it all down with an ice cold gulp of Dr. Pepper. Another bite, and another. The beef washes over your tongue like a rising tide of satisfaction and everything is right in the world. Two more bites and it’ll be gone, but be strong. The beefy 5-layer burrito (a solid value menu choice) is sitting there, ready to field your complaints. Ready to console your frustrations, to comfort you in this sad and lonely world. Bite into it and weep openly for it’s frailty. So strong, but so fleeting. You chew, and can see clearly that all pleasures are fleeting and life is but a dream within a dream. You never want to wake up. More Fire Sauce, another sip of Dr. Pepper. Your piercing bout of depression has subsided, temporarily quelled by five layers of cheesy beef. You chomp a churro and ponder your next move, but what is there to ponder? The Mexican pizza knew it would come to this. You picked up this plastic knife and this spork for a reason. This was only ever going to be a one way trip, and you’ve waited long enough. The Mexican pizza was designed for a specific purpose and it wasn’t to sit around uneaten on a table, so put it inside of you where it belongs. You daintily top it with the two remaining Fire Sauce packets; you are playing with your food, teasing it. Carefully cut out a single slice with your plastic cutlery. Marvel at its existence for just a moment. Yes it’s Mexican, yes it’s pizza, yes it came from Taco Bell. It’s a trifecta of pure perfection. Now eat it. Make it a part of you. Use its energy to change the world around you according to your own wants and needs! Fueled by such excellence, you are like a Titan of the Old World. You look down and realize there are five remaining slices (or three, depending on how you cut). Eat them all and combine their energies. Together, you become something more. Together, you are infinity and anything that could ever be infinity.
Let it wash over you.
You finish chewing and open your eyes. The world shifts back into focus and you half realize, half remember that you’re sitting in a Taco Bell. Your pants need to be changed for at least one reason and it’s not because you spilled anything. You look around and catch another sweet smell of the meaty fragrance, and are transported back to Taco Utopia, just for an instant. You brush yourself off and swallow the excess saliva that has pooled in your mouth. Discretely, you wipe your pants with the stack of unused napkins on the table and walk out the door, calm…but humbled.
You’ll be back.