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How One Should Attack The Smorgasbord Of Deliciousness Being Served At The Texas Rangers Playoff Games


[Editor’s Note: This is our Philly Intern Slave Brosh who A) You have seen before under my name with an “Editor’s Note” but after months he just got his own sn (Devnest FTW!) and B) Will be doing some more writing stuff for us if you don’t destroy his self worth. Play nice.]

Texas Rangers’ New Delicious Playoff Menu

This is what I like to call a smart suicide, and I will break it down how you can accomplish it. I have it all planned out. It looks like you’re going to the park to watch the local Rangers play some playoff baseball, however you secretly hate your life and you want to end it. What do you do? You sneak off into the nosebleeds with this entire menu, eat it all, and then wait until you peacefully die of a heart attack or a ruptured colon by the 7th inning stretch. Let me break down how to tackle all of this.

First. Arrive early to the game. This will take time if you want to accomplish this by the time the crowd is singing about Peanuts and cracker jacks. Say 6:30 local time.

6:30 – GAME TIME. Nope, first pitch isn’t until a little after 7 or so but it is indeed game time for your stomach. Find the nearest toilet and empty all that remains. Your final poop; make sure it’s a good one.

6:38 – Start with the Inside-out Hot dog (above). This one pound hot dog is describe as “8 inches long and 2 ¾ inches around (the Texas Rangers had to be cracking up while writing that on their page, because you know. Penis jokes). This bad boy is topped with your choice of mac and cheese or mashed potatoes, but since you are here to die you choose both. On top of that carb filled foundation it’s topped with Brisket, chili, and shredded cheese, served on a pretzel roll (Ask for a second pretzel roll to scoop up left over brisket that falls off in first bite attempts, don’t waste a drop. This is your last night on earth, do it big.)


6:45 – You have finally reached your seat with your first weapon of self-destruction. Pure bliss. Undo your belt 1 notch in preparation.

6:57- The pretzel roll is done. You feel yourself start to self-loathe. Ahhh, the beginning of the end. ROUND 2. Your section is starting to fill in.


7:05 – You have to hurry to order these bad boys because you at least want to get in one last national anthem in before your pending death. These things are no joke. 2 all beef hot dogs that are covered with a cotton candy-infused mustard, and if that’s not enough. THEY ARE TOPPED WITH LEGIT COTTON CANDY. Even the person serving this to you following the first massive hot dog knows this is the beginning of the end for you.

7:10 – “AND THE HOME OF THE BRAVE…” *burps and farts*. You sit down to your seat and realize the lady behind you is telling her husband that you are now eating…excuse me, I mean woofing down, these two hot dog cotton candy things following the mountain you just ate 25 minutes ago. Little does she know your end goal.

7:20 – First inning is over and you begin to sweat. It’s a cool 65 degrees out. It’s your body letting you know they do not support your decisions. Your farts are seeping out to the upper levels of your section and people are realizing its you. The lady behind you has commented at least 3 times to her husband that you must not have anyone in your life and how sad it is. She get’s it.

8:30 – You literally just fell asleep from a small food coma. You didn’t actually close your eyes or anything, but you didn’t move for 60 minutes. Everything hurts but you know you’re almost there. You know it and everyone around you knows it as well. It’s hitting the second half of your suicide. Lets boogie.


8:35 – This is the 3rd time you have stared at the women working concessions, she might get charged with small murder charge for letting you do this to yourself. She talks about praying for you as she goes to fetch you the Elvis Jabberdog Brownie. “you sure you don’t want the junior one. Its half the size” she says as you just shake your head and fart 3 more times. You undo your belt three more notches. Can’t die with a tight belt around your waist.

8:45 – You are shocked to learn that it takes 10 minutes to fry a 2-foot long brownie that is rolled in a Rice Krispy crust and dipped in Funnel cake batter. However, it’s dripping in whip cream and fried golden brown. You’re excited. After 2.5 more farts and one that could have been shit, you return to your seat.

9:00 – Inning 5. You know you have to pick up the pace as you tackle the final foot of the 2-foot Brownie of self-destruction. The whip cream can’t hide how big this thing is. The lady behind you goes “We can’t let this happen. We have to say something”. “Just let me go” you say under your breath as you scoop up the last bit of whip cream with the final bite of it.

9:25 – A big inning for the Texas offense has given you some time here before your final move to the concession stands. Your sweat stains are visible. Your underwear feels heavy. You know the end is near. You have the shakes. It’s time for Cheetos.


9:30 – “ Sir, you can’t.. I can’t…” the concession lady goes as you go to order the One-Pound Top-N-Go Cheetos. It’s the final move to make before your successful food suicide in a public spectrum. It’s a one-pound bag of Cheetos, opening on its side and filled with your choice of Chili, taco meat, shredded chicken, or brisket. Of course when she asks what one you want in the bag, she already knows the answer as to what you want. She goes, “Sir..” you just respond “I’m not driving”. She throws on the Jalapenos and just mumbles “ God speed” under her breath. It’s at this point you call your parents to tell them you love them.

9:45 – You have pulled out your phone over the past 15 minutes and contacted the people you need to, as this is your last move. You queue up Taps, Amazing Grace on bagpipes, and the whole Sarah McLachlan top hits on Spotify as you go for the final 8 ounces in this bag. You can barely see, everything is blurry, you have gone through 6 bottles of water but there’s so much in your stomach that you haven’t even thought about peeing. It’s happening. You can barely open up your eyes.


9:55 – The bag is done and so are you. You look to your right and your left to realize the row you have been sitting at has left to give you space to go peacefully into the good night by yourself. You take three more breaths, knowing they are your last, they hurt to even attempt as you feel the cotton candy in your windpipe.

10:00 – You are the lone person not to rise for the 7th inning stretch. You have done it. Congrats.