The standard by which all frozen pizza should be measured

I thought about the site this weekend, as I often do, and considered the post constructions we use “Things We Love” and “Things We Hate.” Considering I’ve written most of them, I stand steadfast behind all of our choices. However, with this post I wanted to choose something I really, truly, and profoundly love. So here you go: Tombstone Pizza.

I’m not sure when my love affair with this patron saint of the frozen food aisle began, but I know when it was consummated: High school. CJS Reader Dzayson and I were dorks growing up. Even though he was two years older than I was, we hung out every weekend. We shared a love of professional wrestling, Tecmo Super Bowl, Dr. Pepper, going to the movies, eating at Jose O’Shea’s, and Tombstone Pizza. If we weren’t at O’Shea’s getting a #4 combo special, we were eating Tombstone Pizza at one of our houses while watching some old wrestling pay-per-view like Survivor Series 1990.

We had fetishized Tombstone Pizza to the point of when we would go to Water World and discuss what our ultimate fantasy would be while floating in the wave pool on our rented tubes, Tombstone Pizza was prominently involved. Like every other juvenile male fantasy with no grounding in reality, we thought we had to combine all of our loves into one disgusting amalgamated event. So for me it went like this: “I want a DP (Dr. Pepper) in this hand, TP (Tombstone Pizza) in this hand, and SP (the initials of my first girlfriend) downstairs.” His was essentially the same, except the woman of his dreams at the time was initialed TB. I always liked mine better because all the abbreviations ended in the letter “P.”

So yeah, for some reason I thought a blow job (a happening I had yet to experience) would be better with pizza and soda involved. This further demonstrates what you already know: Adolescent boys have no idea what the hell they’re talking about. For more proof, I for some reason got it into my head a couple years later that I wanted “Son of a Preacher Man” by Dusty Springfield to serve as the musical accompaniment for my first knob slobbing experience. I don’t remember what the hell that was about, but I digress.

Once I got over that absurd fantasy, I returned to simply enjoying consuming it (without distraction – oral sex or otherwise). The crust is firm and crispy unlike the doughy, mattress-like crust of other frozen pizza. The sauce has nice zing, and the cheese melts good and evenly over the entire thing. It’s the perfect pizza, and the answer to the only hypothetical question I can answer without thinking about it for four days first.

Look at it, it’s teasing you, taunting you, daring you to resist…

If you had to eat one thing for the rest of your life, what would it be? Easy! Tombstone Pizza.

There’s no hesitation from me on this question. It’s like a reflex. I like it that much. You then won’t be surprised to learn that when Hart and I visited Senor Limon in Arizona and happened upon the town of Tombstone, I hoped they had a factory there. In my heart of hearts I knew I was an idiot, but in my wildest dreams, the Tombstone Pizza factory looks like Willy Wonka’s factory and has just as interesting a backstory, pizza-making process, and colorful characters. It’s a place you could go and have fun all day rather than no doubt coming from some mundane factory under the giant corporate umbrella of global conglomerate Kraft Foods.

College reinforced my love of Tombstone Pizza due to its relative affordability and hearty servings. CJS reader Tron put it best when he told me once, “I like buying Tombstone because you know exactly what you’re getting. With something like Totino’s, Red Baron, or Tony’s, you’ve got that box, and you never know how big that pizza inside is going to be.” Exactly. Down with bourgeois packaging deception – Tombstone believes in corporate transparency!

My favorite toppings are pepperoni and sausage because there’s nothing better than adding some processed meats your pre-packaged, processed food to really benefit your health. Lady E likes the extra cheese. I can eat any type, really. If you’re cooking a Tombstone – 400 degrees, check it at 13 minutes, then add 1-3 minutes depending on how it’s doing – well, can I have some? You can either share it with a friend, or eat half of it now, wrap it up in foil, and eat the other half later. Half a Tombstone fits perfectly in your toaster oven and re-heats just as crispy and delicious as the first time. Plus, half a Tombstone is the perfect portion for when you’re real hungry but not starving. What could be better?

If I ever end up going on that killing spree one of my high school girlfriends seemed to believe I was destined for, and I go to death row, the guard better ask me, “What do you want on your Tombstone?” Because I’ll tell him: “Pepperoni and sausage.” I’ll eat that, wash it down with a six pack of Amstel Light, and die a happy man.

In fact, I think I’ll do that tonight. Maybe not six beers, though. I’m not as young as I once was. And of course, without the murderous rampage…