Alleged policeman face-shooter Troy Davis maintained his innocence as he was executed by the State of Georgia despite mounting questions about his conviction. He was so assured he would receive a last-minute reprieve that he refused his last meal and instead ate the hamburger being offered to everyone else in his prison. Huge wasted opportunity. Lucky inmates get the triple treat courtesy of taxpayers: last meal, last cigarette and last request. If you're going out, we recommend you take advantage of the prison's largesse and cross one of these five ultimate feasts off your list.
5. Italian Bread Dippers
Delectable toasted planks of buttered bread sprinkled with garlic salt are accompanied by an aged red sauce ladled out of a steel drum and into a medicine cup. The sauce blends savory and sweet, the perfect dip for the salty crunch of the bread. A low fat mozzarella pull and peel stick brings a creamy richness to the dish.
Complimented with slow-boiled Iowa canned corn and a cup of fruit cocktail with all of the cherries removed. For dessert a single cookie with raisins or chocolate chips. The perfect finish to a perfect meal makes a perfect finish to an imperfect life.
4. PB&J and Clam Chowder
Some might scoff and say that a PB&J (strawberry jelly) has no business being served with a clam chowder. Well, the state has a different view on that and so long as the inmate's caloric needs are being met they will serve whatever is convenient and economical. Turns out clam chowder near its expiration is extremely cheap and recalled peanut butter tastes just like normal peanut butter.
Oh, don't act like you deserve better. You're a murderer, or close enough to satisfy the need for vengeance. As Jesus Christ said, an eye for an eye. At least you get a PB&J. Those people you allegedly murdered didn't have a choice. They just ate what you were serving up. Death. Allegedly.
Served with oven-thawed French fry curls and "Mandarin" orange slices.
Sometimes I dream that I'm sitting in the back of the defunct Weinermobile as it careens driverless down the highway. At first I thought this was symbolic of the powerlessness I feel in life, but then I realized it's actually the Weinermobile's dream of being able to drive again.
Three years ago, when we were burying my uncle, Cleaver and some gross lady dog (Solstice???) showed up at the cemetery and starting going at it really loudly. It ruined everything and we had to have a "re-do" the next day and it cost a fortune. I've hated him ever since for that.
Ignore the hype. Find out how these games will likely go right or wrong.
Featured articles and columns that don't fit anywhere else on Something Awful.