Taco Bell sold 100 million Doritos tacos in 10 weeks
If you want to know where the country’s obsession with recursive fast food comes from, look within. Chances are, you will find a Doritos Locos taco. If you don’t, look within the guy next to you, because SOMEBODY has been buying 100 million of these things over the last 10 weeks. It’s now Taco Bell’s most popular product launch ever.
I have complained before about the current trend of inventing new junk foods by nesting existing ones inside one another like some kind of hideous fast-food Turducken. (In fact, I’ve used that exact line, but “Turducken” is an inherently funny word/concept, so you get it again.) But I have to admit, it works. 100 million tacos! To put it in perspective, that’s three for every resident of Canada. Or it would be, except that Canada has too much self-respect.
The worst part is, apparently these tacos don’t even taste good. I haven’t eaten one — I did try to get the Grist office to do a test run, partly for humor value and partly to make me feel better about working from home, but for some reason they refused — but something definitely happens to your mouth or brain at some point in your 20s to make Doritos stop tasting good. And according to a Grist List writer who is not me (I’m being vague so as not to embarrass her; you’re welcome, Sarah), they just taste like extra-salty tacos anyway. So basically, it’s a normal-tasting taco that is specially engineered to cover your hands in indelible gunk. You might as well just eat a taco and then rob a bank or pet a squid or something.
Anyway, here’s an open message to whoever has been eating 100 million Doritos Locos tacos: I’m not going to tell you what you should put in your mouth — you’re grownups, or maybe you’re not if you like how Doritos taste. But I will shake my finger at you for encouraging this nonsense. When the fast-food purveyors get cocky and try to sell you donuts filled with pureed McDonald’s french fries in a Slurpee sauce, or a sandwich made of sour cream and straight lard with two deep-dish pizzas for the bread, well … on your own head be it.
Or, realistically, in your own mouth be it. I know how you operate.
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