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The ancient prophecies speak of a time when the forces of good will have to unite to fight the ultimate evil. Throughout history, this revelation has been imagined as everything from a zombie apocalypse to a war between angels and demons. But I have stared death and destruction in the face and have peered into the abyss of annihilation. The time has come for us sound the trumpet. The end is nigh.

Behold a pale sandwich.

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Described as a “double-decker collard green melt,” AL.com reports that Lucky Cat Rolled Creams in Homewood, Ala., serves this gag reflex-triggering monstrosity that features collard greens on rye bread with Thousand Island dressing, coleslaw, Swiss cheese and whatever-the-hell Alabama white sauce is because, in the year of our good lord Damian Lillard, apparently white people need more variety in their sandwiches.

And make no mistake, this is for the whites.

Now, I’m not saying that a black person has never tried a coleslaw-and-collard-green sandwich because there are adventurous negroes who will try everything from BASE jumping to autoerotic asphyxiation. And once, during my college years, a mixture of poverty and hunger forced me to eat spaghetti made with Taco Bell meat (my roommate worked there), Ragu sauce and Ramen noodles, but if anyone would have suggested that I try a collard green Big Mac I would’ve slapped the shit out of them for disrespecting my ancestors like that.

And I know what you’re thinking: Maybe this sandwich is made by some kind of alternative vegan restaurant that serves delicacies such as kale nuggets or deep-fried guacamole iced tea, but no. Lucky Cat Rolled Creams is an ice cream shop that just thought it would add cheesy collards to its lunch menu.

As someone who believes all men are created equal, I would never besmirch the hygiene habits of my Caucasian brethren. I would instead, point you in the direction of the furious eurocentric online debate over whether it is necessary to shower every day, including this article published by our sister site Jezebel in which the author insists that showering is about personal preference and explains she’s not a “daily shower type.”

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I bring this up because, as a black man raised in the South, I understand that cleanliness is next to Godliness and I was raised to believe that one’s divinity is revealed in how they wash their greens. Am I supposed to think that motherfuckers working the counter at an ice cream shop who obviously don’t give a shit about life are adequately washing their sandwich collards? What if they are not the “greens-washing type?” Because apparently, nasty-as-fuck is a type.

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I wonder what they do with the pot liquor?

Hold up...I just found out what Alabama white sauce is made of and you’re not going to like it. I’m sorry I roped you into this but you might as well hear it now: According to multiple culinary sites, Alabama white sauce was created by Bob Gibson, who first began using it to season chicken and it’s made from...

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Mayonnaise and vinegar.

What the fuck, white people?

For those playing the home version of our game, that’s three mayonnaises. Everyone knows that Thousand Island ain’t shit but mayo and ketchup. Plus there’s probably mayo in the coleslaw. And finally, there’s Alabama white sauce (or as I call it, Satan’s semen). This might make the triple-mayo, collard green hoagie the whitest concoction since Clamato. They should call it the “Taylor Swift.” Or maybe this is the big “nothingburger” that Donald Trump is always talking about.

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I hereby call on the Food and Drug Administration, the National Association for the Advancement of Collard People, T’Challa and Congresswoman Maxine Waters (I just feel like she’d help out) to put an end to this bullshit right now. The future of our democracy is at stake. Think about the children. I don’t want my kids living in a world where they might run into people who eat mayonnaise on collards.

Or maybe I’m wrong.

For all I know, greens smothered in mayo might be the most delicious thing ever. Maybe I should try it before I speak ill of this dish. It’s not that I’m afraid, it’s just that...

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I’m not the “throw-up-in-my-mouth” type.