Pizza Less Fun, More Annoying

You know you're on a slippery slope when your constants are letting you down, and lately, my main man, pizza, has been frustrating me -- maybe not pizza itself, but the world of pizza, if such a thing exists.

First, let me focus this cynical column toward this phenomenon I've witnessed each time I somehow decide to dine at Little Caesar's.

The wonder that is the Hot-N-Ready Pizza is no secret. You can run in, drop a five spot and a handful of change and run out with your large, one-topping. But I've noticed people taking some liberties with the whole in-and-out privilege of the Hot-N-Ready.

Almost invariably, I pull up to the Little Caesar's and there's some chump, if not two, parked on the curb while running inside to purchase their pizza.

Now I realize they won't be in there long, but would it be so difficult to find an actual parking spot like the rest of the law-abiding portion of the population? That's got to be some sort of violation of the fire code!

I hate to say it, but I await the day when a portion of that strip mall is ablaze with flame and the fire engine has no choice but to plow through one of those cars parked on the curb to get to the fire.

Regardless, there's no way anyone is in that much of a hurry to scarf down Little Caesar's that they can't take the two minutes to park. The dirt-cheap price for dinner is alluring, sure, but hungry or not, you can't be that eager to sink your teeth into that tart tomato sauce and dry crust.

Let's be honest with ourselves, Little Caesar's is the Clint Howard of the pizza chains -- ugly and appropriately low-rated.

But to be fair, there are those fabled occurrences when you get a Hot-N-Ready that's surprisingly delicious, but because those are so few and far between, I'll bury those moments like the gems they are in the middle of this column and proceed.

I shouldn't even get started on Domino's new "American Legends" gimmick, but I will.

This could quite possibly be the lamest ad campaign I've ever seen, which says a lot, given such memorable travesties as McDonald's commercials with R&B songs about chicken nuggets or the "Breakfast Club"-inspired J.C. Penney ad that was just "wow."

But Domino's American Legends really take the cake.

First off all, nothing about the pizzas really tie them to their supposed cities. Yes, we get it. The one has pineapple so it must be from Honolulu, and other has barbecue on it so it must be Southern. Let's say it's from Memphis. Brilliant!

Someone remind me -- how the hell do provolone and bacon represent Los Angeles?

And the dialogue in these commercials is just embarrassing. It's as if the ad team behind this campaign consists of a rabble of fourth graders and Brendan Fraser.

It's unconvincing enough that people would mass together to vocally support their city's pizza, but having them shout things like "Bring it on!" and "Meat head!" to the apparently rival cities embarrasses me every time I see it.

Rant concluded.

I'm going to go listen to "Corona and Lime" and cool down.