We always thought Canada was a boring place. After all, this is the nation that gave us Bryan Adams, Howie Mandel, and K.D. Lang.
But in the course of writing this blog we’ve learned there are some pretty colorful characters up in the Great White North.
This idea is the brainstorm of a guy named Paul Kneale, who’s a performance artist. (Translation: I couldn’t get into a real university, so my parents paid a lot of money to send me to art school but I never learned to draw because I was too busy hitting the bong.)
So anyway. What do you get when you call Last Meals? You don’t get filet mignon and crepes suzette like in the movies. Most states have a cap on the cost of prisoners’ last meals. The check can’t exceed $20.
Also: Unlike the doomed diner whose meal you’re reenacting, you don’t get to choose. Kneale chooses for you. Which means you’re almost certain to end up with something like John Wayne Gacy’s fast-food exit: fried chicken, fried shrimp and French fries. (News flash: Most folks on death row do not possess refined culinary tastes.)
Worse, Kneale doesn’t make the food. He just buys some takeout and brings the lukewarm styro-box to your door.
We think we’ll order a Porno Pizza instead.