Breakfast: It's the most enjoyably lethal of all meals, if done right. Pancakes, bacon, eggs and hash browns. Of course, you might as well inject a tube of tub caulk into your veins, same effect. Since I want to fit into my pants, I have the Breakfast of Denial -- overpriced yogurt and a small pathetic sausage, squeezed in a napkin to extract all the deadly juices until it tastes like a maple-flavored Duraflame log.
I could eat Jimmy Dean brand, but I tired every morning of wondering whether he was dead or alive. It's like Abe Vigoda-brand Orange Juice. (Both Abe and Jimmy are alive, in case you're wondering.) So I ate Armour brand Brown 'N Serve, which are precooked and require a minute of nuking.
Well. The other day at the grocery store I noticed a subtle difference: The package was the same, but the name had changed. Armour was gone. "Banquet" was the new brand. This is wrong. Wrong. Banquet means fried chicken; Armour means various indistinct meats assembled in tube form. Well, Armour was recently bought by ConAgra, which is owned by Pinnacle Foods, which is probably owned by the Bavarian Illuminati, and they've rebranded the Brown 'N Serve line.
Pity: Armour is a venerable name that goes back to 1867, and contributed one of the great ad jingles in TV history. All together now:
Hot dogs. Armour hot dogs.
What kind of kids eat Armour hot dogs?
Fat kids, skinny kids, kids who climb on rocks;
Tough kids, sissy kids, even kids with chickenpox.
Sissy kids? They could never get away with that today; it would be like Wonder Bread promising to build strong bodies 12 ways so you could punch a bully in the kisser.
Anyway, they taste the same. So never mind.