There’s A Bacon Stanley Cup And It’s Disgusting

Bow down to your master, obese and future obese Americans.

Completely aware that this is going to be an unpopular opinion, I’m just going to go ahead and finally say my piece on a matter that’s been gnawing at me for some time. People like myself have been hiding in the shadows far too long, bowing to what seems to be an absolute consensus on the unbeatable gloriousness of a certain fatty pork product.

Though there are surely various parts of the pig known to be fatty and, quite frankly, weird, obviously the fatty pork product in question is bacon. You know the sometimes crispy, sometimes soggy, always dripping in lard breakfast meat that at some point in time Americans decided was the greatest single food item in the history of all food items?

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Bacon is so beloved in this country that if Congress passed an amendment allowing meat to run for public office, bacon would win the 2016 presidential election in a landslide. Then we’d further amend the Constitution to eliminate term limits for occupants of the White House, and bacon would be the King of the United States for the rest of its existence.

The thing about bacon is that it’s disgusting—there, I said it. It was fine as an occasional breakfast side dish, but the baconization of America has gone too far. For crissakes, there are bowls made out of bacon now, so when you finish eating your bacon and ranch dressing “salad,” you can eat your dish for dessert.

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These days, pizza crusts are made of bacon and that bacon is measured in feet—not inches. It’s the perfect crust for a pizza that substitutes sauce with ranch dressing, cheese with extra cheese, and vegetables with bacon or bacon and sausage. Like when KFC substitutes two pieces of bread with fried chicken and fills the middle with bacon.

It’s truly horrifying, having gotten so out of hand it’s hard to know anymore if people even really like bacon as much as they claim to, or it’s just something you’re expected to say. Like you’ll be forever shunned from society if you do anything but pledge your forever allegiance to bacon.

Which, let’s be real, is a possibility. I’ll probably disappear off the face of the earth tomorrow.

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A (surely blasphemous, right? I’m not even religious, but something tells me this wouldn’t fly) bacon portrait of Jesus—the only acceptable retort?Mmmm…bacon. Seriously, if all this religion stuff turns out to be true, someone’s going to hell for this thing.

Actually, probably a whole bunch of people—“seeking sexy salty revenge?” No. Just no

Whatever though, if Americans want to eat themselves into an early grease-soaked grave, that’s their right as Americans. If you want to wrap every single thing you eat in three feet of bacon, I don’t care because that’s your business. I think it’s disgusting, but it’s your business.

I do, however, have an issue when this artery clogging abomination is used to defile to most gloriously storied trophy in professional sports. The NHL’s Stanley Cup is unlike any other championship trophy in that the winning team isn’t given some lame replica every year to add to their trophy case.

Hey, @BarBrutusMTL, some say everything is better with Hockey… #Bacon #StanleyCup pic.twitter.com/Eti3GTmvBe

— NHL (@NHL) April 14, 2015

They are given a few brief months to enjoy it, before having to return it. But their names are etched on the Cup, making each and every member a permanent part of hockey history. The Stanley Cup has grown larger over the years, increasing in value each season to the players desperate see their name on hockey’s greatest prize and spend just one or two days with it.

Lord Stanley’s Cup is one of the most significant pieces of hardware in the history of sports; one which deserves to be revered and respected. And it sure as hell deserves a lot better than being just the latest object of yet another bacon PR stunt.

Naturally, the stumbling, bumbling NHL seized on the opportunity interject itself into the stunt. Being the butt of a joke is the only thing commissioner Gary Bettman is good for anyway.