Sorry, Whitey

Perhaps you've noticed that your friendly neighborhood bloggerman has been theming pretty hard in one direction lately. That's because I positively adore hamburgers, and I can't stop thinking about them.  In fact, I love hamburgers so much that I pledge my undying devotion to them, right here, right now, on this very blog.  If you could see me now, you'd see a guy who is down on one knee, because that's how really serious pledges are made.  Incidentally, I was not on one knee when I asked Alex to marry me.  I was in a hammock in Venezuela, which is even better.  But I'm not marrying hamburgers, for chrissake, I'm pledging my devotion to them, not in balmy Venezuela, but in frigid Indiana.  That's a different kind of commitment, though NOT one I make lightly.

Being from Akron, which is something of a Mecca when it comes to great burgers, I know the importance of having a reliably delicious burger joint nearby.  Here in West Lafayette, Indiana we have Triple XXX, where you can get a world-class hamburger.  Thank god, because the way I see it, any town where you can't get a good burger is no better than a cesspool.  A reeking, bubbling, gaseous, noxious, slime-filled cesspool.  No, none of these goddam disgusting places count:

McDonald's
Wendy's
Burger King
Any other similar, shitty establishment serving toxic, prefabricated deathburgers

It pains me that we did NOT go to Whitey's last week as planned.  We ended up slumming at the Cavs/Mavs game, watching the Cavaliers run the Mavericks out of the building.  Sure it was great fun to see a win, but there was a day when Whitey's Booze n' Burgers and Cavs basketball were virtually synonymous.

That's material I'll save for another day.

nwb