My friend Kevin, a college pal, has a big appetite.

He was the first person I ever witnessed ordering one of the Big Value meals at Burger King -- the special multi-sandwich menus that went beyond value and straight to your arteries. It was a sight to behold. Lacking a comparable menu at McDonald's, Kevin made up his own: We ordered Value Meals, he ordered Fatty Meals.

A typical meal: One Big Mac and two cheeseburgers. Or, a chicken sandwich and a double quarter-pounder with cheese and a giant Coke, or on special occasions, a Filet-o-Fish, three cheeseburgers, and a milkshake. All of the above came with a super-sized order of fries.

Kevin's Fatty Meals represented the most beautiful thing about fast food: Sheer excess. It's what makes those places a guilty pleasure. No one goes to McDonald's because they really like the taste of the beef, the quality of the bun, or the precise way they chop their onions before slapping them onto your cheeseburger. No, you go there if you're on a road trip, or you've been good that week, or you're simply starving and you want to shovel delicious grease into your mouth as fast as it can go.

So it was with a sad smile that I thought of Kevin when I read that McDonald's is abolishing the "super-size" helping of its fries. We and Kevin are bidding adieu to 690 calories, 29 grams of fat, and 77 grams of the dreaded carbohydrate, scourge of the devil and enemy of slim waistlines everywhere -- this year, anyway. What's more, they're getting rid of the extra-large drink.

The claims are amusing: In that story's lede, it's alleged that McDonald's just really cares about the nation's flirtation with obesity, going so far as to debut an "Eat Smart, Be Active" campaign. Further down, however, someone at the company admits that "super-size" was never a hot seller, meaning the decision's a lot more attributable to the bottom line. No surprise there. Not mentioned is the fact that, however absurd the lawsuit was, McDonald's was sued by a girl who felt that the company owed her something for her enormous weight gain following a constant diet of its burgers and fries.

She is, of course, an idiot. A raving loon. The restaurant even provides leaflets with the nutritional information of its food -- it's not like that, plus basic common sense, wouldn�t be enough to enlighten her as to the hazards of her particular dietary choices. And it annoys the crap out of me that people think they can skirt responsibility for their own obesity. Don't blame the messenger -- in this case, the provider of delicious grease.

I've never actually ordered super-sized fries -- I tend to prefer the bigger burgers with a slightly smaller sleeve of salted potato love. It's all in the balance. But just knowing they were out there, a tower of cholesterol and taste, gave me comfort. It represented a giant fuck-you to all those people who think that it's not their fault that they're gaining weight. Unless you are the biggest, most shocking idiot in the entire world, you're aware that potatoes fried in grease aren't slimming, and that hamburgers aren't low-calorie. If you want to eat grease, you should. But it's a crock of shit to shrug your shoulders and throw your hands up in the air and wonder where the extra weight came from if you've eaten four out of seven meals in a week at a fast-food joint. So, yeah, super-size it, bitches, because you know what? You're going to love every second of it. And live with the consequences. Be mature.

The abolition of extra-large temptation from the McDonald's menu is part of that new "Eat Smart, Be Active" slogan they're adopting to rationalize adding the things that have infected the menu of America's iconic fried patty palace. Salads -- and those incomprehensible salad shakers, as if leafy greens in a glass sounds at all appetizing -- have become regular menu items there. They also sell yogurt. Later this year, the adult version of the Happy Meal will come out, featuring water, fruit, and a pedometer, as well as a diet plan conceived by Oprah Winfrey's trainer. That way, while you're sitting at McDonald's eating your fruit, you can count how many paces it is between your seat and the counter, where you will shortly sprint in the hopes of replacing your Crappy Meal with a freshly grilled Big Mac or a ten-pack of McNuggets.

That's the thing that gives me comfort, actually: McDonald's probably knows it can get you in the door with the promise of something healthy, but once you're there, you're more likely to hit your table with a host of burgers and fries on your tray. It plays right into the hands of rationalizers like me who would stop off at the restaurant on the way to Vegas and think, "Oh, a salad and fruit sounds so good, let's go to McDonald's. � but, you know, I did go to the gym yesterday and the day before, and it's been ages since I had a Big Mac�" Ten minutes later, I'm wiping sesame seeds from my lips.

That's the way it should be. McDonald's, Burger King, our beloved In-N-Out -- they should be brick-and-mortar testaments to decadence. They're not responsible for how often we go there, or what we eat. They just want us to get rid of our hangovers with a Sausage McMuffin or a double cheeseburger. Fatburger is the one chain that's got it right: It constantly points out that, hey, it's all in the name. You know what you're getting, and if you're coming there for anything else, you are demented. Fatburger is beautiful in its simplicity. Up yours if you want it low-fat.

I realize that the chains like McDonald's are partly trying to capitalize on the market of healthy eaters and vegetarians who currently stay away from McDonald's, despite the fact that, who are we kidding, those patties probably aren't made entirely of cow. But it's upsetting that America's obsession with its own obesity, and the push to find that other extreme, has reduced our fast-food havens to lettuce-pushers. Who goes to McDonald's for its produce? Why? It's a junk-food-junkie's haven, not a health-food store. If you want to eat smart, you do not go to McDonalds, nor should it be the place that leaps to your mind. Go elsewhere. Find a Subway. If you don't, it might inspire McDonald's to unearth the next Jared, and that's an evil the world is ill-prepared to thwart.

And what might come next? This could be a slippery slope of reform. But there is no Whopper without full-fat mayonnaise; no Filet-O-Fish without deep-fried coating; and I don't want to imagine the In-N-Out burger cooked animal style but slathered with fat-free special-sauce. I refuse to accept our chains becomig echoes of the hollow fare sold at Topz, California's "healthy" fast-food joint where everything tastes joyless. Fat equals fun. Are we facing the banishment of the potato, in all its perfect forms? A tasty lettuce burger on a breadless bun? Fat-free cheese? I won't stand for tofu, you know. Don't take away my right to gorge.

Farewell, sweet super-size. I'll miss watching people scarf you in awe. I'll ache for your challenging promise of salty indigestion, and the sheer number of ketchup packets it would take to lube you up and make you complete.

We have until Dec. 31 to get our fill. Before the new cruel world dawns in 2005, go to McDonald's and eat your fill. Let the super-size fries know you, at least, loved them, and that they had a place in your stomach. Inhale them without apology and squeeze your belly lovingly when you're done. Announce that the extra artery clogs were well worth it, and proudly count those calories.

And then, start going to Fatburger. At least they know what you really, really want.

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