Go Sell It on the Mountain

by Will Bailey

Founding fudge.

I’m confused. I thought Mount Rushmore was just some mountain that naturally resembled the faces of old men. Then I realized I was thinking of The Old Man in the Mountain, but since erosion ruined that party for everyone, maybe it was actually The Man in the Moon that I had pictured in my mind. After concluding that I was confusing Mount Rushmore with Old Moon Face, the peeping Tom that terrorized my neighborhood the summer I turned thirteen, I was finally able to admire one of our nation’s most iconic monuments. Wife and I had stopped there on our road trip across the country, and I must say I was floored by the amount of time, effort, and resources that must have gone into creating Mount Rushmore’s cafeteria-style eatery. From their town-famous bison burger to the embossed plaques on the walls naming every single state, the food services at Mount Rushmore are truly world class. I can only hope that Gutzon Borglum (not a joke), the sculptor who sadly died before the monument was finished, is looking down on his glorious creation, admiring the throngs of tourists waddling straight past the viewing atrium into the cafe servery, where they are greeted by a Menu of Monumental Value Meals. After all, it is only fitting that the likes of Washington, Jefferson, Lincoln, and the Tom-Selleck-looking-one should gaze upon their descendants exercising personal freedoms such as shoving pepperoni pizza into their gaping maws and licking frosting off Saran wrap. Wait a second, is that…? It is! Everybody, come look: the face of George Washington has miraculously appeared in my fudge brownie! Oh. I see. They’re all like that.

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