Applebee's Neighborhood Bar & Grill

"Honey, can we go out for dinner tonight?"

"Yes, of course, darling."

"Something sit-down, faux-traditional and quick so I can make it back by seven o'clock for a five-millionth repeated episode of Law & Order?"

"Of course, dear! I know just the place!"

Yes, he's thinking of that family-owned corner restaurant that the Baby Boomers' parents patronized, minus the investments of time and money that Baby Boomers shun. The only thing neighborhoody about Applebee's is that there's one located in every neighborhood.

Apparently two dudes, Bill and T.J. Palmer, started the restaurant in 1980 under the name "T.J. Applebee's Rx for Edibles & Elixirs." Clearly Bill and T.J. were burned-out hippies that fell into some daddy-cash--and since it was originally named "T.J. Applebee's," I'm gonna assume it was T.J.'s daddy who had the bank roll. No doubt Bill was the "idea man".

After their second restaurant opened they sold it to a truly great American exploiter, W.R. Grace (anyone else bothered by the fact that the same company can operate a leather manufacturing plant and a restaurant at the same time?). Grace then sold it to IHOP, who will then sell it to some other giant company, who'll then divide that company up into other companies and then sell the "Apple's" but keep the "Bee's"--and then those two restaurants will compete for awhile and then Bee's will buy out Apple's and then in 50 years we'll all be eating at our neighborhood "Beeapple's."

Like the Baby Boomers, Applebee's figured out how to chew on the comforts of their parents' generation and spit out an exploited version to their kids' generation. They intentionally dupe their poor customers by having consultants (i.e., suits from corporate) fly in a week before each restaurant opening, copy some old high school football photos from the yearbooks they have stashed at the local library and then throw them up on the walls in Wal-Mart frames. Holy fucking lame.

In the end, Applebee's is just another example of how the Baby Boomers deify the little man, then conform to the big man. Because a hamburger and fries is so difficult to make that I wouldn't dare go to that new mom-and-pop joint a few blocks away. I demand crappy consistency!