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In This Issue

• Scandal Pol Denies It All
• Hipster Ironic Since Age 14
• Baby Names May Be Lame
• AIDS Continues Dance Marathon Win Streak
• Jeff Sachs, Meet Anna Nicole
• Tales of the Inexpressible: Plumbing
• Iraq Gets Improbably Pale Spring Break Vacationers
• Compare, Contrast.
• Pics Worth 978 Words
• A Primer for the Primaries
• SEXILED: The Board Game
• Online Dating Adventures
• Well Bread
• Men Secretly Letting Their Hair Down and Asses Up
• Anthropomorphism
• Lerner Hall: Time to Take Out The Trash
• Fed Bash, Fed Bash, Fed Bash

Christine DeLong

Christine DeLong

In an era where the country stands divided, there is one thing on which its citizens can agree: sandwiches.  The public's growing desire for bread-bordered, mono-palmable comestibles peaked around 8:00 p.m. on Thursday, creating a culinary market crash of sorts that has affected restaurants and businesses nationwide.  

Almost overnight, the country has decided that it is no longer content with cutlery and would rather eat utensilessly.  "If it's not a sandwich, its not going in my mouth," said San Diegan Montgomery Phillips. It is consumers like Phillips who have caused a drastic makeover for menus everywhere.  Among others, New York chefs have attempted to compensate by putting old favorites between bread.  In Little Italy, diners enjoy pasta primavera on wheat while a Middle Eastern restaurant downtown serves rugula on rye.  

Hans Spügenhoffer, owner of Haägen-Dazs, proclaimed his mouthwatering manifesto early this morning, winning the acclaim of food critics.  Their favorite was the low-carb Sorbagel, an elegant combination of the Jewish bread donut and frozen, sugared fruit juice.   Spügenhoffer is the first in the business world to know which side his bread is buttered on, but other major companies will soon be following suit.  On the internet, Kraft has leaked rumors of "Macaroni and Crumbs" and "Easy Bread" while Wonderbread hints of a nine-pound loaf.  

But unfortunately, it is not always possible to satisfy America's newly unyielding demand.  In Philadelphia, former Iron Chef Masaharu Morimoto explained the plight of his eponymous restaurant between sobs:  "There just... isn't enough bread."  Needless to say, his sushi pita pockets were a fusion flop.  

Yet the dining makeover has already had a profound influence on the economy.  As companies answer the public's requests, they are pumping dough into the economy, making it easier for the workforce to earn their daily bread.  As of Friday, the starting salary at Pepperidge Farm is $200,000 with benefits; United Airlines has pulled itself out of bankrupcy with a huge increase in flights to America's new top tourist destination, the Sandwich Islands; and through a mouthful of peanut butter and jelly, Secretary of the Treasury John Snow announced yesterday that the national debt is down two trillion dollars.

The sandwich, it appears, has that je ne sais quoi the public has been eternally seeking.  Like Rachel from CBS' "Friends," America has noticed that the sandwich's Ross is now more than a friend. From the heartland to the small intestine, America has sandwich-shaped holes that need filling.  

Nonetheless, some are still curious about the cause of "the Great Leavening," the media's sobriquet for the change in appetite.  Still unconfirmed, reliable sources inside Harlem Friday may have discovered the cause of the GL in the form of a cassette tape.  Carbon-dated to 8:02 p.m. Thursday, the tape was found in a cassette player labeled "Senator Hillary" in red Sharpie.  The tape was filled nearly halfway with the words, "first female president" repeated over and over again in different tones of voice by the New York senator.  Immediately following, the voice of America's 42nd President speaks those six, now unforgettable words: "Dammit Hillary, make me a sandwich."