I have a beef with their burgers.

Note to European Restaurants:

Removing the bun from the burger does not make a more sophisticated burger, it makes a naked and solitary looking piece of meat. If I wanted that, I could go to a strip club, but sources tell me that even their burgers come dressed. Just to be clear, restaurants of the E.U., my beef isn’t with yours which, I know, is 100% all natural Angus Beef and lovingly slaughtered. My beef is that you let McDonald’s sprout up like a weed amidst ancient Roman flowers in Piazza di Spagna and educate you on what a burger is. No wonder McDonald’s is a more popular commodity in Europe than it is in America. Only bums and rednecks pass under the Golden Arches in America, in Europe everyone does! And why? Because even Ronald McDonald knows, despite having been beaten and sexually molested by his uncle who forced him to watch Nascar games on Sundays, that a burger isn’t a burger unless the meat is thrust in between a bun. The dirty irony is that though Ronald’s meat is smaller than that of a Chinese Olympian on steroids, even it is closer to the definition of a burger than that of its 20-euro European counterpart.

Bottom line: If I wanted a fresh, tender piece of meat, I’d order a steak, or check up on who Roman Polanski is drugging- errr, dating. But that was last night. Today I want a burger. So please, for the love of Kamadhenu, cover up, burgers of the Old World. You offend my sensibilities.

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