Friday, September 25, 2015

Bring Back the Volcano Taco

Danville, Kentucky- Blockbuster. American Motors. The respect of my children. All were once wonderful, and all are now gone. Changing demographics and Obamacare have it made it impossible for the first two to return. The third I wouldn't want back after my children paid Olive Garden for the broken dishes after an engagement gone wrong. Life is about loss: happiness, sadness, intoxication are all transient and fleeting. We zig and zag through social circles; the wife of yesterday one day becomes the woman at the grocery store who you refuse to make eye contact with of tomorrow. Special people change, as surely as summer becomes autumn or as surely as Limeritas become drunken rampages in an Arby's parking lot.

The Volcano Taco is different. Sure, it's no longer available at Taco Bell establishments, but its highly-toxic, indigestible spicy goodness lingers on in the intestinal tracts of Mexican cuisine aficionados like myself everywhere. It's crunchy, artificially-colored, fire-engine red shell is as eternal and timeless as a Johann Sebastian Bach cello suite or Smooth by Santana and Rob Thomas.

Yet, the technocrats at Yum! Brands eliminated the Volcano Taco, allowing the dream of Volcano Sauce to go the way of Scott Walker's campaign or Hillary's emails. I don't care what your nerd focus-group data says, Taco Bell. You've made a mistake. It's time to be bigger than people like my ex-wives and admit when you've made one. If you are willing to sell products that have been linked with marijuana overdose, such as Doritos Locos Tacos, why will you not sell a product that celebrates the sublime and terrible power of a volcanic eruption, one of nature's chief calamities? If you are willing to contribute to the decline of American Mt. Dew products by selling foreign scab-products like Baja Blast, why will you not celebrate the American tradition of getting black-out drunk, eating spicy food, chugging a whole bottle of Pepto-Bismol, and praying for the sweet release of death?

The numbers would tell you that the Volcano Taco is a quick way to lower one's life expectancy or develop diabetes or heart disease. But the timeless deliciousness of this beefy treat can't be measured by calorie counts or grams of trans-fat. It can only be measured by how it makes a man feel when the cheese overwhelms the looming child support payment or failed scratch-off ticket.

We all measure time in our own way. For some, the seasons offer an annual reminder of when things change and new hope begins. For others, the McRib may offer a reminder that a new but familiar era has come. For me, time stands still. I long for the return of what made time seem to last forever in bliss: the volcano taco.