- "Apparently This Matters" is CNN Tech's weekly, offbeat look at trending topics online
- This week, Jarrett considers a 20-year-old gallon of BBQ sauce sold for $10,000
- The "McJordan" sauce was party of a regional promotion
- Also? You could put it in a $41,000 fridge if you're so inclined (and rich)
The silliest thing I ever purchased on impulse through eBay was a signed photo of the late Jerry Orbach from NBC's "Law & Order." Which, I suppose, really isn't all that silly.
He was an American television icon, and I was proud to have Detective Briscoe framed and mounted near my toilet. Above Orbach's signature he wrote, "Best of Luck."
It was almost like he knew I'd eaten hot wings.
But just this week, the Internet was buzzing about a man in Chicago who, unbelievably, spent $10,000 on eBay for a gallon of barbecue sauce dating to 1992. Though, to be fair, that was an excellent year for barbecue sauce: a truly wonderful vintage with some fine vinegars and delightfully complex tomato pastes and tannins.
Right. I have no idea what I'm talking about.
But this particular relic was actually a long-forgotten leftover from a regional McDonald's promotion for the McJordan burger, celebrating basketball legend Michael Jordan. And why not? I like the idea of naming fast food sandwiches after sports stars. Though it's a shame we never saw the McSecretariat.
But at least we had the McJordan, and finally, decades later, there's a very proud Chicago Bulls fan in the Windy City with a 20-year-old jug of botulism. So, hey, free Botox for everyone!
Alas, the big question now is what to do with it. Certainly, you can't just offer it up to your friends and neighbors for a taste of history.
"Well, Dave, how is it?"
"I think I need to pay a visit to Jerry Orbach."
Oddly enough, as a piece of sports memorabilia I think it might actually look great on the living room shelf, if for no other reason than the fact that it's completely weird and one of a kind. Of course, that's only cute until the kids feed it to the dog. Which is why I strongly endorse locking all children in a protective hamster ball until they're 28.
So, if you can't safely keep this new potentially toxic purchase out in the open, the only other option is to just forget about it in the deep recesses of the fridge. But who has room for an entire gallon jug of barbecue sauce?
Answer: rich people. Specifically, rich people who have officially run out of things to do with their money. I desperately want to be one of these people.
You see, Mashable writer Kate Freeman also created a little buzz this week with her profile of a new super high-end home refrigerator that costs up to $41,000 and is basically the size of Rhode Island, so long as we agree that Rhode Island is 8 feet wide.
Despite the fact that it's seemingly custom-built to store the hourly caloric intake for one medium-sized American, this monster appliance is actually made by the Italian company Meneghini, and they call it "La Cambusa." Which loosely translates to English as "where yogurt goes to die."
Though it starts at a very proletarian $26,000, the fridge allows for pricey add-ons like a steam oven and a flat-screen TV. You know, just in case you feel like watching "Monday Night Football" from the soft comfort of not sitting on a sofa.
But the main selling point is its overall luxury. Really, it's just a beautiful piece of furniture that, inside, happens to have 26.6 cubic feet of cold storage. Which is plenty of room for eggs and maybe even a hitchhiker.
(Look, I'm not here to judge. You have your weird perishables. I have tofu.)
The point is this. If you're rich enough to spend $10,000 on barbecue sauce, you might as well complete the ultimate sports fan's man cave with a $41,000 fridge for your new eBay investment. You can even keep it completely empty of anything else. Sort of like a shrine to a great moment in McDonald's history.
And speaking of great moments in McDonald's history, sit tight. Because never mind the McJordan. We've only got about two more months until the return of our beloved McRib!
Wish us luck, Jerry Orbach.