We’ve eaten some really, really ill-advised concoctions in our time. A cole slaw burrito. A steak, bacon, egg, and chicken biscuit from Mrs. Winner’s. Once, on a dare, we scarfed down a half-eaten burrito off the bottom of a bus tub while working as a bus boy one summer–after breaking out into a rash of boils, losing consciousness for three days, and forgetting everything that had happened during the month before the incident, we recovered and haven’t been sick since.

We don’t think that with a wife and a dog, we could eat the deadliest catch of all football tailgate foods, brought to us by Run Up The Score: the deep-fried White Castle cheeseburger.


My god, man. Do you want to die?

By mighty Bacharach’s Piano Keys! You should go do something else with a similar danger rating, like playing Russian roulette, or taunting an angry Jon Lovitz, for example. If these existed in Australia, Steve Irwin would have been killed by one. If they were African, mythical oral histories would surround them. If these existed in Tennessee…well, they will, in a matter of minutes, we’re guessing, so scratch that. Someone’s running at a dead sprint to a deep fryer as we speak.