Greatest Food Website Ever (today...)

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Yes, this is exactly what you think it is
There are plenty of good food websites out there on the World Weird Web. If you need a recipe for coq au vin in a hurry, a cogent explanation of why sous vide cooking is kinda awesome, publicity stills of Anthony Bourdain with no pants on or a list of history's most well-known modern cannibals, you're in luck.

There are even a few great food websites--places where rational and in-depth discussions take place, sites with great photography and useful information, some that are just plain blow-your-mind crazy-awesome (warning: do not click the previous link unless you want a song about hover bacon stuck in your brain FOREVER).

But because we here at Voracious World Headquarters are concerned not just with the good, the rational and the useful, but occasionally with the completely insane, brilliant and freak-tastic, I always have my eye out for those repositories of foodie weirdness which will just flat rock your socks and permanently scramble your gray matter. Which is why today, I proudly present to you...

Selleck Waterfall Sandwich.

Selleck Waterfall Sandwich is precisely what it says it is--nothing more, nothing less. It is a collection of beautifully, hackishly photo shopped pictures of waterfalls, Tom Selleck and delicious sandwiches, all mashed up together into something that's probably less than art but certainly more than mere craft.

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This is one of my favorites
Each picture is hauntingly weird and funny. The best of them rise to the level of modern dadaist masterpieces of jarring juxtaposition and pop-cult tension that just make you ask why--why would anyone do this? What bizarre obsession drives them? Why waterfalls, sandwiches and Selleck rather than, say, moonscapes, chicken wings and Benny Hill? And most importantly, why didn't I think of doing this first?

What truly gets me and raises these snaps above the level of mere schlock is the way in which they're presented. The website itself offers no explanations, no causal relationship between Magnum P.I. and the tasty, tasty gyro lurking in the background, nothing but a plain title and a basic logo. Each one is like a found object, related to nothing, existing completely on its own. Taken together, the experience is like accidentally stumbling across the secret diary of your weird uncle that no one ever talked about and discovering that he was a cannibal, a closet Mormon, an angry conspiracy theorist who believed that Nikola Tesla was reading his brain waves and that toucans controlled the world currency markets and the man who really shot JFK--a bizarre and disconcerting glimpse inside the obsessions of a person who, without the miracle that is the internet, likely would've been making these little photo collages all alone, with scissors and magazines and glue sticks, all alone in an empty apartment somewhere with only the imaginary bats to keep them company.

Still, my favorite thing about these pictures? The only text that appears on the page at all is a single line beneath each collage.

All it does is list the name of the featured sandwich.

Pure fucking brilliance.

 
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