Magazine April 30, 2012, Issue

Hunger Strike

(Fred Prouser/Reuters)

I   don’t mind Arby’s. It’ll do. The last time I ate there I thought, Hey, I’m not regretting this. Some red sauce, some white sauce, a bun that doesn’t taste like it was made three months ago in a vast industrial oven three states away: Might not be actual food, but it’s a fine simulacrum. Some days you’re at the mall, you’re hungry, and it’s a fast-food meat-wad or some grey chicken from the Peking Slop House or whatever it’s called. Yes, I could see having Arby’s again.

At least until they demonstrated to the Internet a heretofore unknown fact:

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