T.G.I. Friday IV Has Finally Visited America
(Only to Be Dismayed by What He Discovered Here)

TO THE MANAGEMENT:
I recently had occasion to travel to the United States of America for the first time, and the City of New York in the State of New York in particular. (This year’s NecroComicCon was held at the Jacob Koppel Javits Convention Center.) Upon my arrival at John Fitzgerald Kennedy International Airport, I was informed by several pamphlets and a rather solicitous porter that I should be sure to spend a day of my visit in historic Times Square at the junction of Broadway and Seventh Avenue on the island of Manhattan, and so I made it my business to do so.
Imagine my surprise and curiosity when I discovered a restaurant at the ostensible “Crossroads of the World” evidently named for my own great grandfather! Now imagine my profound chagrin when, upon examining the establishment closely, I realized just how antithetical it is to the views and convictions of the first Thaddeus Gareth Ivor Friday.
For starters, the garish signage outside the building would for certain have offended my late relative’s aesthetic sensibilities and inclination toward the unobtrusive. The exterior of his own humble home was painted a uniform light shade of moss green and situated in a remote wooded valley in order not to attract the attention of tax assessors or Cossacks. Bold red-and-white canopies would have given him a migraine headache, and diagonal stripes might have provoked a spell of vertigo. The slogan “In Here, It’s Alway Friday” would have caused him some distress, furthermore, being that he was staunchly opposed to both wordplay and tautology.
Confused and disturbed, I nearly turned away from the place rather than enter it, and perhaps I should have, but I was thirsty as well. The interior of the eatery was a hundredfold more alarming. Whoever decided to feature Tiffany lamps as part of the décor can not have done his research, else he would have known that my great grandfather had a longstanding feud with Louis Comfort Tiffany over the affections of a certain Bohemian chorus girl. Moreover, my great grandfather believed that brass — such as your restaurant’s numerous railings are made of — is an affront to nature, being an alloy rather than a pure elemental metal. Either copper or zinc alone would have been serviceable, but my forefather and the like-minded others in his fraternal order would have found the miscegenation of the two distasteful, to put it mildly.
While waiting for the unnecessarily hirsute publican to pour and serve me a draught ale, I made the mistake of perusing a menu I found on the bartop. To enumerate comprehensively the objections my great grandfather would have had to each of the items listed would make this letter so long that it would require several dollars worth of stamps to post. Instead, I will mention a handful of representative sins committed by your chef de cuisine:
- “Mozzarella Sticks” (topped with Parmesan and Romano): One type of cheese is sufficient. Two is indulgent. Three is ostentatious.
- “Loaded Potato Skins”: Potatoes, like tomatoes and eggplants, are solanaceae (or, “nightshades”) and toxic to humans.
- “French Onion Soup”: While these words individually would have been familiar to my great grandfather, as a phrase they would have made no Earthly sense.
- “Black Bean & Avocado Burger”: I trust the objection to this item need not even be committed to paper.
- Seafood is only for Mongoloids and the infirm.
Now, all of that having been said — and without prejudice to my request that you either make significant changes to your establishment or else rename it — I feel compelled to mention this, in closing: Notwithstanding that he could not stomach the so-called Irish “cream” or “people” and that in November of 1954 a flash flood-prompted avalanche put an end to both his solo ascent of the Matterhorn and his difficult life, I think my progenitor would have enjoyed a “frozen mudslide,” provided it was brought to him by one of your paler and more voluptuous waitresses. Regardless of what his tombstone reads, Great Grandad Thad was not entirely incapable of enjoying himself from time to time.
Awaiting your prompt response, I am
Thaddeus Gareth Ivor Friday IV
Tyre-upon-Rhodes, Northumberland

