Every time I go to the Hollywood 27 at 100 Oaks, I pass the Wendy's sign touting the notorious Baconator sandwich—an unapologetic artery-clogger that offers six strips of hickory-smoked bacon atop two quarter-pound beef patties. "Your mouth wants one," says the sign. "No thanks," says my mouth, speaking for my cardiovascular system.
But the Baconator still means to have its way with me. "Go on, obsess a little," says the Wendy's site. Another ad removes the carrot and unveils the stick: "Careful. It can sense fear." The bizarre TV ad clinches it with a crowd of digitally altered maniacs stampeding a dude in the trademark Wendy's pigtails—an image that sends the unmistakable message, "The Baconator is gonna make you its bitch."
Who wants to eat a sandwich that's practically asking for a restraining order? It must be working, though, as the market will soon be flooded with rivals:
Burger: Hardee's Baconcutioner
Description: A half-pound of applewood-smoked bacon sandwiched between two half-pound beef patties, covered with 14 slices of real American cheese.
Slogan: "The last thing you'll ever eat."
Burger: McDonald's Baconinja
Description: A pound of oak-smoked bacon precariously positioned on two three-quarter-pound beef patties, with more bacon on top and another patty. Then more bacon.
Slogan: "You'll never feel it coming...until it rips through your guts."
Burger: Jack-in-the-Box Baconcussion
Description: A pound of mahogany-smoked bacon wrapped in a pound of uncooked bacon, stacked Jenga-style in a quivering tower atop six quarter-pound beef patties stuffed with bacon.
Slogan: "Go ahead, scream. No one will hear you."
Burger: Burger King Aporkalypse!
Description: An entire hog, smoked with actual bacon and cut into inch-thick strips, then piled on six hubcap-sized patties of compressed hog fat, all wedged between foot-thick buns sculpted from ground bacon and infused with bacon-extract molecules. Available with extra bacon.
Slogan: "The end is near."