I sometimes lament my memory. It’s too good; it forces me to remember things I’d rather forget. But then something like this comes along:
A lot of people like to make rules around what pizza is and isn’t. From where a pizza is made to what toppings are on it, a pizza can be deemed illegitimate if it doesn’t meet their strict set of standards. I, however, am not a pizza purist. While I have my preferences, I think the beauty of my favorite food is that it’s highly adaptable and inclusive. This is why, when I stumbled upon something called a “pizza cone” on Reddit, I looked into it with an open mind.
…and my lumber-room memory, which discards nothing, throws this up:
Rest in peace, Bernard Kliban.