Fat City just received a phone call from the assignment desk of a local TV station: "Hey, where can we get a sugarcoated Satan sandwich in Kansas City?" asked the assignment editor. He was referring to Missouri Congressman Emanuel Cleaver's morning tweet railing against the debt-ceiling deal. The Rev. Cleaver called the deal a "sugar-coated satan sandwich. If you lift the bun, you will not like what you see."
It's not uncommon for a religious figure -- even a fictional one -- to find satanic influences in food: Remember Dana Carvey's humorless "Enid Strict," the uptight "Church Lady" from Saturday Night Live? In one sketch, she berates a young woman for serving a satanic "Cherry Jello Jubilee" dessert.
I'm sure I've never had a "sugar-coated satan sandwich" in this city, but I've tasted a couple that have come kind of close.
The best-known sugarcoated sandwich is probably the French croque monsieur or its American cousin, the Monte Cristo sandwich. But those sandwiches are typically heavenly -- not Mephistophelian. A more likely candidate, without sugar, might be the very hot -- and kind of tasty -- creation served at Steak 'n Shake: the Pepperjack Melt. It's steakburgers, grilled onions, pepperjack cheese and jalapeno peppers -- mercifully served on the side.
But I'm sure there are many better candidates for a Satan Sandwich -- sugarcoated or not. I can't be the only person in town who has lifted up a bun and not liked what I saw.
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Heaven only knows what a "satanic sandwich" and "satanic fries" are, but Ms. Pelosi is really imaginative, though rather a narrow-minded apocalyptic agitated lady. Americans have some wonderful epithets and metaphors. This sounds to me like another addition. Congratulations!!
I would not even give satan an ID card, let alone a passport.
Cleaver makes them all the time- layers of unctuous righteousness sandwiched between slices of pandering.
I thought I Satan Sandwich was the same thing as a Devil Dog. That's like a moon pie in the South. I'm not making this up.
This post couples well with a game we play at work where we try to concoct the perfect Subway sandwich to make the worker vomit while in the act of making it.
I don't know about Satan, but fire usually comes out of my ass after eating Flea Market burgers.
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