Is your local McDonald’s suddenly a cultural melting pot? Nowadays, it feels like a hard working American can’t even get an old-fashioned burger, what with all the wasabi-ginger salads and burrito wraps behind the counter. Sure, McDonald’s have been appearing in other countries for decades, but when did those other countries start popping up in our McDonald’s? Hell, I heard in Oregon they even serve sushi. Does that sound like the red-blooded red meat that put an American on the moon? I don’t think so.
You feel strongly about preserving traditional American fast food. That’s why McDonald’s is excited to introduce Donald’s Platinum.
Donald’s Platinum is an invitation-only sanctuary for the American fast food you hold near and dear to your heart—so close it clogs your coronary arteries. We stay true to our roots. In fact, we prefer to keep our whole head underground as well. Here, you’ll feel as safe as when you gaze upon the fifty-foot wall that used to be called the Mexican border. Every day at Donald’s Platinum is like the Fourth of July, largely because we put fireworks in the French fries.
We identify potential members through a careful algorithm of County Fair attendance, engine size, and tornado proximity. Members should be able to hold the door for a woman and laugh at a soccer player’s twig-sized ankles. We’re looking for people who can turn the other cheek, but who also characterize what it means to be an American with one of those paranoia-fueled crazy walls where all the red strings point straight to Rambo.
Before offering membership, Donald’s Platinum demands detailed proof of citizenship, gluten tolerance, and an inability to hold back tears when discussing Ben Roethlisberger’s arm strength. Don’t worry. No one here will accuse you of dismissing sexual harassment because, goddamn it, that man can shake a tackle.
Once inside Donald’s Platinum, you’ll find a restaurant designed for your comfort. All of our cashiers were once voice actors for Dodge Ram commercials. Our televisions only screen baseball and football, not jai alai or synchronized chess or whatever the liberal elite watches up in Cambridge. Most importantly, we serve the same cozy hamburger we served your father, except now it’s covered in ranch and sandwiched between two cheeseburgers.
We know you’re here because it feels like American fast food has been appropriated by a bunch of newcomers that have no respect for the holy and delicious union between one bun and one patty. Worse yet, they run amok in your restaurants because some bleeding heart at Corporate forgot about you and handed the keys to them. Not anymore. Consider that heart to be bled dry. Here at Donald’s Platinum, our hearts are metaphorically strong, which is good because, medically, they’re a nightmare.
At Donald’s Platinum, you don’t need to listen to some Internet billionaire or climatologist calling you uneducated from their wind-powered car. Listen to our famous clown Ronald instead: You can have fast food back. Don’t worry about what it might cost. And don’t worry how this diet could redefine your soul—like a font shapes its script, or how pig butts form our bacon—that’s a concern for another day, because today you got your burger back.
Jason Hayes lives in Denver, where he intermittently writes from a continuously alley-facing apartment. His non-fiction has appeared in The Huffington Post and The Atlantic. His humor pieces have appeared in McSweeney's. He has never written humorous non-fiction.