Oh, Domino

Dessert Pizza. Dessert Pizza?

I really don’t need to say much more, but then this would be a very short post. But perhaps this is a minimalist track that I will start to take; two or three words, perhaps incongruous, and then move on.

But not today.

Domino’s has introduced a dessert pizza, and for those of you blessed with being in a situation where you’re not inundated with advertising, or live in a country where people realize on their own that sugary, fat laden food items with no nutritional value are remarkably bad for you, here is a run down: Pastry crust covered with crumbled up Oreos and then drizzled with frosting.

I’m fairly sure that I went into a diabetic coma just typing that…

Now before I naysay too much, there are some questions that beg to be asked. When I was driving hastily made, shitty pizzas around for a gig, would I have taken one of these monstrosities home for me and the roommate to plow into? Yes I would have. Back when I spent more time with Cosmic Charlie, my skeleton playing a saxophone bong, strapped to my lips than eating anything green, and I found out that they would actually deliver one of these things to my stoned ass, would I have called up and ordered one? Hell yes, with a side of ranch.

But seriously, I feel there needs to be a call to rationality in here somewhere. Oreos are already the inoperable brain tumor of the cookie world, two – count ‘em, two – cookies glued together with a money shot of frosting. You know what’s a good idea here? Add some more frosting to the sick mess and toss it onto some pastry. It’s like shotgunning a person in the chest, than ripping out and setting fire to the kidney they had donated to a kind and bookish young fellow two years before just for good measure.

I’m not gonna lay a ton of blame on Domino’s here, they did gainfully employ me and my much abused clutch for a good 6 months. I don’t think they would introduce this particular flavor of Kool Aid to the cult if they weren’t pretty damn sure there would be takers. I’m proud this country and I will sing a song of an over produced country flavor while I ingest my unnecessary medication, hurrying home in my urban assault vehicle to feed my kids a feast of fast food.