The Great Breakfast Debate

In every vector of American life, the timeless argument continues...

We find our heroes at a booth in a true Americana diner.

"I'd go with the blonde," said Jack.
"Yeah, really that's interesting," said Brian sarcastically.
"Hey, what's the difference between pancakes and waffles?" Joe interjected.
There was a long pause...
"You're a stupid motherfucker, Joe," said Brian and we all shook our heads in a slushy mixture of disgust and agreement.
"No, I mean, besides the shape, it's the same fluffy batter shit, isn't it?"
"Although the brunette does dress better," Jack admitted.
"There is a difference..." I started.
"Does it really fuckin' matter?" interrupted Brian. He chose, at that moment, to emphasize his point by firing the spitball he had been moistening for the last few minutes directly at Joe. His saliva-soaked projectile, of course, missed its mark completely and stuck dutifully to the wall over Joe's right shoulder. Joe found this exchange reason enough to flip Brian not one, but two middle fingers.
"Oh, look at the legs on that new one," said Jack, as if the booth full of girls at the other end of the aisle were some sort of effeminate buffet. This new addition was, apparently, the prime rib.
"All right, I'll give you that one," agreed Brian.
"The point is, waffles are Belgian, pancakes are American," I said.
"I thought they were French, originally," said Joe.
"Fuck you," I decided.
"What's important is this: Pancakes ain't got no little fuckin' spots for syrup. Waffles are best." said Brian.
"True that," I agreed.
"Double true," finished Joe.
There was a long pause before Jack interrupted.
"Jesus Christ, look at the rack on that one."



Ah, another perfectly waged example of...

The Great Breakfast Debate.



- Scott Clayton
(The Waffle King hath returned)