Yeah, I tried it. Twice. First for experimentation, second for testing.

First off, I'd like to say that this thing is bigger than my hand, and it probably outweighs a large majority of black penises. I'm tempted to glue it together, attach it to a stick, and beat my cat with it. If the cat doesn't die from the beating, I'll let it eat the burger as a fatal blow. A peculiar fact about the actual paddy is that it's shaped like a square, but not with a square bun. I'm not sure if that's intended as an optical illusion or if it's because of the implanted steroids that make the burger so god damn big (can anyone say Good Burger?).

Proceeding my visual inspection, I started to eat the Bovine Mammoth (Keep in mind, I got it without cheese or mayo, so I'd consider my hunk of meat a "Steakhouse Burger lite"). After approximately 16 bites I had half of the burger left to go. It tasted like shit. I used to work at a Coffee/deli named The Warm Kitchen where I cleaned grease traps, broken espresso machines, piles of dishes, and, occasionally, I'd dump out moldy water that was once used to mop floors. That's what the burger tasted like: Moldly mop water. Imagine the last time you had the flu... yeah, that's the Steakhouse Burger experience.

I put the burger down and got out my soft drink. Usually I dread the taste of Burger King pop because it's so damn watered down that I'd actually rather be drinking, you know, real water. Seriously. Go to Burger King and get a coke. It's like fat water. It both tastes like shit and makes you fat.

Anyway, this time I anticipated my pop being watered down. God I needed some water. Holy shit my mouth ached. My dad comments that my breath smells like raw sewage.

I ate another fourth of the burger, this time with additional barbecue sauce to hide the taste, and then threw it away. My meal was ruined at this point. My fries were shittier. The air smelled damper. Life was bleaker. You know when you're a kid and you crash on your bike, and you scratch up your knees and elbows, and you weren't wearing a helmet, and if you had landed on your head, you probably would have died, so thank god you only landed on your elbows and knees? I felt the same at this moment. Normally people say, "I can feel myself getting fatter" as a sarcastic comment when eating fatty food. I could barely relate. I felt myself dying. After finishing what I could of the burger, I felt like I dodged a bullet. Like, I was lucky this time, but the next time I'm probably dead.



In retrospect, I'd say this is probably the manliest burger ever, if you measure manliness in "deaths per year". The Steakhouse burger is rivaling, if not beating, death by tobacco per year. While J.E.L, D.A.R.E, and every other anti-smoking agency in the world bitches about how terrible it is for teenagers like me to smoke, they're completely being blindshotted by the real enemy: The Steakhouse Burger. Man, what morons.


Oh yeah, that reminds me: I hate anti-smokers who tan. What bullshit. Tanning gives you cancer too, dumbasses!