If I ever get any closer to becoming a restaurateur than knowing how to spell it, there is an eatery I’d like to open. Imagine that it’s late at night and you’re driving around, absolutely starving. Up ahead, you spot a neon sign:
\n
\nTHE LAST MEAL DINER
\n“it’s time!”<\/b><\/p>\n
You’d want to eat there, right? Of course you would. You’re hungry enough to eat roadkill. You pull over, walk in, and take a seat at the counter. Opening the laminated menu, you see it’s full of the names of executed criminals and what they had to eat in their final hours.<\/p>\n
You might find this gimmick amusing. You might be offended. Who can say? One thing I do know is that after you leave, you will tell your friends about the place. Even if you’re uptight and humorless, others will not be.<\/p>\n
Some ideas just market themselves.<\/p>\n
This still leaves the task of finding out what society’s dregs were noshing shortly before their demise. Thanks to the internet and people whose sense of propriety is on a par with my own, such information is readily available. Texas, a state that serves up so many last meals it should open a fast-food franchise, provides an exhaustive list on a government website. If official sources are lacking, aficionados of this sort of trivia pick up the slack.<\/p>\n
Portions will have to be downsized. My research has shown that those condemned who haven’t lost their appetites completely from pre-execution jitters tend to go all out. Meals consisting of two large pizzas, a cheeseburger, fries, and a six-pack of Coke are not unheard of. Perhaps there is solace in gluttony.<\/p>\n
Equally likely is the theory is that they want to exact revenge by creating as big a mess as possible when they expire and their bowels let go. It doesn’t really matter what they eat. From a necrogastronomic perspective, it’s all vindaloo and prune juice.<\/p>\n
I’ve come up with a couple of items as they would appear on the menu. Bon appetit.<\/p>\n
“John Wayne Gacy”<\/p>\n
With victims as young as 14, it’s no wonder the erstwhile Pogo the Clown chose shrimp and chicken. Add a side of strawberries (reminiscent of the man’s personal fruit cellar) and you have John Wayne Gacy on a plate.<\/p>\n
“Timothy McVeigh”<\/p>\n
Love dessert but hate the federal government? Look no further. Allow your spoon to collapse this tower of mint-chip ice cream. With each mouthful, you’ll feel an explosion of flavor as fresh as it was in the truck that delivered it.<\/p>\n
Special thanks to the folks at rotten.com for their fine reference material.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
If I ever get any closer to becoming a restaurateur than knowing how to spell it, there is an eatery I’d like to open. Imagine that it’s late at night and you’re driving around, absolutely starving. Up ahead, you spot a neon sign: THE LAST MEAL DINER “it’s time!” You’d want to eat there, right? … Continue reading I’ll Have the “Ted Bundy,” Extra Crispy Please<\/span>