Bruce Ditman celebrates the return of the McRib this holiday season.
Eight nights have passed, menorah were glowing
Lights twinkle on trees, their bowed boughs are bowing
With ornaments and below them or on kitchen tables
Next to the latkes, the gelt and a rainbow of dreidles
Were piles of gifts—this toy or that one,
A Barbie, a toy truck, some sort of ray gun.
And, while it’s nice to give gifts, I am compelled to remind
Each and every one to look and you’ll find
Upon a closer examination and some detailed research
Perhaps at your home, your temple or church
that this season is not just of giving but actually of wonder.
Created by the one who skies we are currently under.
Why, you must puzzle, have I bothered with this?
To blunder and stumble around such religious
Themes as to tap dance in a field thoroughly mined
Has it’s hazards, for sure, but listen and you’ll find
It’s worth it, I swear it, so try and bear with me
As I share the tale of something great God give me.
Adeste, fideles. This is all true and not a bit rumor
I prayed and prayed and just now and no sooner
There has come to my attention a great cause for new hope.
That someone, out there (up there?) has thrown me a rope,
You see, the holidays can be such a tough time of year.
When life can be lousy, devoid of bright cheer and
it’s In those dark times, one needs a ray of bright light
Shone into their hearts, restoring their fight.
This is that, dear friends, for those sad, aforementioned
Let’s all share in a tale of divine intervention.
Listen up!, Do I have your attention? (Good!)
A great miracle has indeed happened there
an act of intense mercy, without peer, I declare!
A blessing so wonderful, though technically treif,
A miracle so glorious, so whole-heartingly craved
By me!…and millions and millions, both sinners and saved
Lo! Trillions and trillions of main street consumers
Gen X’ers to Naughties, both Seniors and Boomers,
Have waited and waited for its sticky revival
Their voices in unison, they cheer its arrival
(though partially drowned out by the rubbing of thighs
In leggings just begging a more reasonable size)
They call of its shape and it’s curious hue
Sort of white but made purple, with thick BBQ.
They chant of Its flavor: boldly bland, hints of the south,
Excited, ecstatic, they point to their mouths
Requesting the perfectest meal ever served with a pickle
A superlative deal, for palates easy or fickle
And here it comes, after eons of waiting
It is the least I can do after all of this baiting.
SO … without further delay to build ‘ticipation
Or effort to further induce salivation
Or silly asides with jokes, so inside,
Or references to movies you dudes wont abide
Or gags built on themes overtly conflicted
Or …wait …where were we … ah yes! The story as scripted.
The McRib has returned, dear ones, the McRib has returned!
Thank you Ray and Ray Jr. and all of the Krocs
Thank you, Ronald, bless your heart right down to your socks
Stripy and festive … just like this blessed holiday season
Although you do seem to dress up for nearly no reason
But, hey, one should not judge lest ye be judged yourself
I certainly have my own curious socks on my shelf.
The McRib! Huzzah to all of the McDonald chickens, the cows
For your pardon is in! Your salvation—on sale now.
And to our (presumably) porcine martyrs who die to allow
The return of this sandwich, let me thank you, thank you right now
For your sacrifice, which we all know is great.
God bless your piggy hearts … now get on my plate.
Photo: Calgary Reviews/Flickr