Waffle House Is Still the Answer
Like lucid dreaming, the wave-particle duality of light, twinkies and Donald Trump, there may be no rational explanation for why people crave Waffle House. You walk in, the floors are sticky, you can practically see the perspiration from the line cook’s brow drop onto your toast and odds are you’ve known someone who’s gone into cardiac arrest in there. Has the FDA seen this place?
I’ve never had a problem eating at Waffle House. In fact, I view eating Waffle House as a sort spiritual exercise where I consume this base, corrosive substance and train my body to turn it into positive energy. It’s a Buddhist concept I picked up in college, likely between joints, where you turn negative thoughts, events, etc. into positive things by flipping your perspective on them.
In the much more esoteric realms of Buddhism, stories are told of men who have trained themselves to gain sustenance from the sun alone. Or, about men who can consume toxic poisons without dying because they apply these principles of mind over matter, willing themselves to overcome the shortcomings of their humanness.
It starts out simple and all. You get rejected by a girl and you flip the script to say well now I have enough time to beat the final boss in Zelda or something like that. You advance stage by stage, flipping every negative thing that happens so that you come out on top until you’re trying to drink a bottle of Drain-O without throwing it back up. At this point your friends become concerned and you stop wearing red robes and shaving your head bald. You’ll then throw all those new age books in the trash and start exercising and listening to the Beastie Boys.
So anyway, back to Waffle House. Waffle House is fantastic and aside from being a spiritual exercise, it’s food like all other food so it keeps you alive.
The appeal of Waffle House is akin to the appeal of analog music in this age of electronic music. Electronic music is clean, concise, nearly perfect. Analog music is subject to more error because humans are operating the instruments and humans try to drink bottles of Drain-O believing that they have the power within them to ignore the basic, toxic chemicals in the substance despite the fact that Drain-O is powerful enough to dissolve months of pubic hair buildup and your stomach can barely handle a second piece of pizza.
Computers, if given access to all the facts that your average human has about Drain-O would never try and swallow it unless compelled by some insane, self-destructive force.
Enough about Drain-O. There is no rational connection between it and Waffle House. But, on second thought, weren’t we addressing the irrational nature of our desire for Waffle House? Maybe there is something here.
Maybe, metaphorically speaking of course, Waffle House is the Drain-O of the southern food canon… No. That won’t work.
Bah.
Let’s drop it.
The fact is:
I fucking love Waffle House.
