The Onion Ring: Merely a hangover-neutralizing greasy indulgence or the true Lord of the Rings? *reminder: add nerd joke before publishing. Sure, the Onion Ring doesn't possess the eye-catching glitz of an engagement ring. And it's true, there's no awe-inspiring majesty like that of Saturn's rings. And there's no innate whorishness as is the case of the tongue ring. But what it lacks in aesthetics, it more than makes up for in eatsthetics. (That's a horseshit term I'm now using to describe the tongue's recognition of beauty in any given object. Eatsthetics. Deal with it.) And the rings have that in spades. Their specific brand of eatsthetics, "holy shit, this tastes like explosions battered in knife fights, deep-fried in lightning," is one thing: Bad Ass. What other food can make the all-mighty french fry seem like a ginger step-child? "Oh, you're gonna let me replace the fries with onion rings? Of course I'll do that. I'm sure those skinny French bastards are in the process of surrendering to the cole slaw, anyway." And let's not even get into what an Onion Ring does when placed inside a burger/sandwich/panini. People do that with potato chips and they're all, "look how artsy and innovative and cutting edge I am." Then they see someone clearly better than them stick an onion ring in a grilled chicken sandwich, and immediately they feel like they're at an Aerosmith concert sometime after 1998.

So we've already established Onion Rings are a better accompaniment than a fry or chip, tastier than a piece of jewelry or heavenly body, and cleaner than a tongue-ringed lady of the evening. If that isn't enough to lay the Lord's crown upon the Onion Ring, consider this: A(n) Ypsilanti, Michigan man recently attempted to rob a local Burger King. When the cashier explained the register can only be opened when a food order is placed, the man placed an order for Onion Rings. However, it being 5am in Ypsilanti, Michigan at the time, the fast food joint was not currently serving onion rings, and relayed that information to the gun-toting derelict. Dejected, and no longer feeling up to it, the man lowered his gun and left without even a parting gift from the penny jar. That, my friends, is the power of the Onion Ring. Tell an enterprising individual with a good plan and an even better assault rifle he can't have one order, and he turns into Charlie Brown (or, if you prefer, a recently dumped George Michael Bluth). Good grief, Onion Ring. The title is yours. Enjoy it.