Guy Fieri Made a Giant Pile of Nachos in a Trash Can, Because Your God Has Abandoned You

Somewhere there's a little-seen version of the Bible that translates the prophecies of Revelation 6 not as horseman with sackcloth and blood but as a millionaire douchebag in Oakley shades and a multi-colored goatee making 250 servings of gastroenteritis in a garbage can.
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Somewhere there's a little-seen version of the Bible that translates the prophecies of Revelation 6 not as horseman with sackcloth and blood but as a millionaire douchebag in Oakley shades and a multi-colored goatee making 250 servings of gastroenteritis in a garbage can.
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Someday, eventually, Guy Fieri's reign of culinary terror will end and the most widely recognized chef in this country won't be someone who couldn't desecrate food more if he literally took a shit on it. In time, our culture will finally exile this human Ed Hardy t-shirt to the irrelevancy he so richly deserves. One day, young writers for the Food Network's website won't have to grit their teeth, force a smile and pretend that enthusing over something called "The Drunk Donkey cocktail" is anything more than an act of soul-crushing cowardice.

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Sadly, today is not that day. And so here we are, learning that Guy Fieri made nachos in a garbage can during a kitchen demo at the South Beach Food and Wine Festival a couple of weeks back. In some ways this is the entire Fieri modus vivendi taken to its logical conclusion and, perhaps, the very first time he's shown anything akin to self-awareness. According to the Food Network, the Leni Riefenstahl to Fieri's ongoing food holocaust, he created a giant pile of nachos so tall and heavy that the only way they could be contained was in a steel trash can.

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According to the pictorial piece, which I swear is almost impossible to get through through without either laughing yourself into a coma or crying yourself to suicide, the nachos were "super-layered," "next level" and, most amusing of all, "comforting." Because that's precisely the word that comes to mind when imagining how trash can nachos feel a few hours later when they're being uncontrollably launched all over a public restroom on South Beach.

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Somewhere there's a little-seen version of the Bible that translates the prophecies of Revelation 6 not as horsemen with sackcloth and blood but as a millionaire douchebag in Oakley shades and a multi-colored goatee making 250 servings of gastroenteritis in a garbage can. Guy Fieri is our culture's judgment day. May we all suffer accordingly in the eternal bowling shirt flames of the hell known as Flavortown.

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(All Photos: Getty)