You don't vote for kings

A self-perpetuating autocracy

Recently I've become intensely interested in the Burger King pantheon of advertising. It's new, it's hip, it's odd and frequently disturbing. Amazingly, it makes me more likely to actually eat at Burger King, unlike McDonald's ads, which fill me with the desire to shove iron spikes into my tongue in an effort to prevent me from eating anything ever again.

I think my fascination finally crested the point of "actually looking shit up" with the Tendercrisp Bacon Cheddar Ranch commercials, featuring Hootie sans Blowfish. You've seen it.

Let Her Fry

You can see it again in its long form by clicking on the picture, or you can read all about it at the ad agency's website. Have you ever looked really closely at this thing? It's hypnotic, like a deep fried train wreck covered in cheese. It's also deeply sexual in a "Dynasty opening credits" kinda way. "Nice caboose?" "Breasts that grow on trees?" Milk Maidens slopping ranch dressing on each other, while cowboys relax by gently growing, precisely-placed giant fries? I work in advertising and I took a women's studies class, dammit, I know what's going on here!

Crispin Porter + Bogusky in Miami are the people behind the entire campaign. They originated the new look of the King (derived from a 1970s BK toy found on eBay), the whole subservient Chicken bit (featured in the Hootie ad if you look closely), and just about every BK spot for the past year. You can read all about their edgy counter-culture approach in Slate. They don't seem to have a very long pedigree advertising-wise, which probably plays a big role in their style. Ad agencies are notoriously stuffy.

The money quote of the article, in reference to the new Double Croissanwich, is this:

"Our research showed there was space for a larger, more indulgent build," says Paul Macaluso, Burger King product manager for breakfasts.

First of all, how cool would it be to be "product manager for breakfasts?" For the whole worldwide Burger King operation, no less? Paul Macaluso can walk into any BK in the universe and DEMAND extra eggs and deep fried bacon, and they'd have to give it to him. Why? Because he's the Product Manager for Breakfasts, bitch. Oh yeah.

Now, that quote is from October. Apparently a double size Croissanwich did not satisfy the howling hungry maw of the American breakfaster, however. So in the year 2005, the King called upon his subjects to construct a new sandwich. A sandwich of epic proportions - a breakfast confection for the ages - a gustatory megalith to dwarf the feeble sandwiches of men. A work of meat, egg, dairy and grain which, when complete, would blot out the sun itself. It's name would be simple, free of embellishment, and merely state plainly the physical properties of the great work: The Enormous Egg Omelette Sandwich.

Size Comparison

The point of the "EEOS" is to generate in you the sort of indulgent wanton desire that drives you to put chocolate milk on your Cocoa Puffs. (You should do that sometime, by the way.) You wouldn't want to eat this every morning if you value your aorta, but you want to TRY this thing. Just once. Just to tempt the cholesterol reaper. I like the fact that the healthy-living backlash - the anger over being contstantly told that Americans are fat goobery slabs of dough - has actually generated an expanded market for an expanded sandwich. It gives me new hope for capitalism that the Invisble Hand of the Market is apparently signalling for a second serving of pie.