REVIEWS: Double Down Sandwich from KFC

It’s common knowledge that KFC is without a doubt the worst fast food chain. Everyone knows this, even people who like KFC. I like KFC, especially when it’s paired with a Taco Bell. But it’s true, every way you slice it. Across the board, for a variety of ethical, environmental and health reasons, from vegans to those of us who consider lettuce on a McChicken a serving of vegetables, KFC is still the WORST.

So when I saw a window banner advertising the restaurant’s new Double Down sandwich, I was at once disgusted, curious, and not at all surprised. KFC has reached a dizzying, impressive new low. I knew they were onto something when last month, the restaurant unveiled their handheld boneless filet, which was a giant chicken strip served in a cardboard sleeve. The Double Down takes this idea light-years in the wrong direction. It consists of two pieces of bacon and two slices of Monterrey jack cheese artfully placed between TWO of these handheld fried chicken breasts. I couldn’t wait to try one.

The banner sported a slogan: “This product is so meaty, there’s no room for a bun.” I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been eating a BLT and thought, “You know, this would be a lot better without all these vegetables, and if this boring bread was greasy fried chicken.” In their own Neanderthal-with-a-deep-fryer kind of way, the folks at KFC have reinvented the wheel. And they put fucking bacon on it.

REVIEWS: Neighborhood Adult Beverage Retailers

HURLEY'S DISCOUNT LIQUORS (Warren St. and Comm Ave.)

Nestled comfortably between a dry cleaners and a pretty good pizza place, Hurley's is staffed by a motley assortment of crusty old boneheads. Each of these guys has probably fixed up a 'Vette or been involved some sort of non-violent criminal racket at some point in their lives. The store stocks many out-of-season 12-packs (like Bah Humbug Xmas Ale) that were passed over for a reason, and sells them at ridiculous discounted prices. How can you say no to a seven-dollar suitcase of Point Amber Red Lager? Watch as the clever boys at Hurley's calculate the sales tax of your purchase right in front of you IN THEIR HEADS. Great place to get carded and/or say "shit" out loud and not feel bad about it. Popular spot for ethnic teenagers to loiter, trying to swindle a 40 off naive college kids. Price tags written in Sharpie on bright-colored construction paper add a lot to the atmosphere.

BLANCHARD'S (Harvard Ave. and Brighton Ave.)

Would-be "liquor superstore" on arguably the shittiest corner of arguably the shittiest neighborhood I am lucky enough to call home. Place has fluorescent lights and an announcer and feels more like a Wal-Mart with each passing forgettable weekend. The only thing missing are the grotesque elderly greeters and a complete disregard for corporate ethics. You're stuck with average-priced boozed sold by a typical staff of keg-carting zombies. There's your basic wood-floored wine area that just feels sad and out-of-place. Throw in the endless throng of bros, crusties, micks, Franks and Kimmies, and this place could drive a man to drink. Plus, I hear the owner beats dogs. No joke!

REVIEWS: Thoughts on Films Watched For About an Hour on Cable the Other Week

A GOOD DEAL OF WEEKEND AT BERNIE’S II (1993, dir. Robert Klane)
Not since the brutal final half-hour of EVERY WHICH WAY BUT LOOSE has the absurdity of existence been placed under such a tragic narrative microscope to be observed, documented, disassembled, and discarded in a pale yellow receptacle for hazardous waste. In this challenging, richly detailed film of concealed motives and spooky voodoo stuff, two crummy lowlifes named Larry and Richard tote around their boss’s dead body in a quest for buried treasure. They also try—very unsuccessfully—to get laid. A lot. For like the entire movie. But then again, don’t we all? Because of a curse, sometimes the dead Bernie dances around when there’s music playing. He joins a conga line and becomes the life of the party, even beating the shit out of some muscle-headed jerk wad. At one point—don’t ask me how—Bernie the corpse has sex on the beach with a squeaky-voiced babe. What does that “say” about “us,” as “people”? While Larry and Richard look worried and botch every attempt at redemption, Bernie succeeds with ease. At long last, something on TV asks real questions, unlike Jeopardy! (which I understand provides the answers first), and myself (who doesn’t talk much anyway, but then again isn’t on TV).

Verdict: TRY AND PLAN TO CATCH IT because honestly, what else is there to do?


THE INTERMINABLE FIRST ACT OF THE FUGITIVE (1993, dir. Andrew Davis)
I watched the first half of this flick from the beginning, which was helpful in figuring out that the bearded lunatic who murders his own wife in the first five minutes is actually Indiana Jones. Naturally, no one would dare put Indy in the slammer, even for such a heinous crime as this. But they do anyway. He kicks Nazi butt on a prison bus and jumps out of the way of a cartoon train. Now he’s on the run, and the white guy from MEN IN BLACK drinks a lot of coffee and chases after him. To make matters worse for poor Indiana, no one will listen to his crazy story about a one-armed attacker trying to cover up a bio-medical conspiracy. Since we last saw him saving Old James Bond’s life with the Holy Grail, Indy must have spent a lot of time in Chinese opium dens cavorting with whores. Not only does he construct ludicrous stories, but he thinks he’s a doctor, and that he can fly. After he “survives” jumping off a dam, he reads documents and gets chased some more. This is when I turned the movie off because I was getting tired of watching ads for Mad Men.

Verdict: SIT ON IT FOR A BIT until it’s time for Women’s Figure Skating