The following is a transcription of a zine entitled “Order Me” found inside a sandwich I ordered from a chain sandwich parlor, which, even ignoring the content of the zine, was quite remarkable. I can only presume that the introspection that goes with mass producing take-out sandwiches all day has begun to expose the contradictions inherent in the capitalist sandwich art world. I leave interpretation of the implications, and perhaps act, of requesting or making these sandwiches to you, dear reader.
A sandwich that is ahead of its time, but will be recognized for what it is after your death.
A sandwich that I, the customer, get to make after an eight hour shift at Subway.
The worst sandwich you can imagine.
A sandwich composed of ingredients grown within 100 meters of the sandwich studio.
A sandwich able to dismantle the master’s house using the master’s tools.
A tiny sandwich, just big enough for one or two bites, but one that provides the satisfaction of an entire foot-long.
A sandwich memorial to the soldiers that died in World War 2.
A sandwich that is buried in a jar in the ground to ferment for two or more years, the longer the better, before being eaten.
A sandwich built on play to oppose the sandwiches built on terror.
A sandwich experience, wherein I don’t eat for three days, then eat a sandwich of your choosing.
A sandwich, to be reproduced exactly the same for three meals a day for a week.
A sandwich that will allow me to accept the deaths of my loved ones.
A sandwich to be eaten lady and the tramp style on a first date.
A sandwich for euthanizing those who wish to die.
A sandwich that can convey ten years of working as a sandwich artist; the highs, the lows, the drudgery, the small joys.
A self replicating sandwich.
A sandwich made entirely from ingredients found in dumpsters.
A sandwich, the ingredients of which will be determined through a decentralized direct democracy application.
A sandwich that renders the concept of sandwiches meaningless.
A sandwich that takes three hours to assemble.
A sandwich to be used as a sex toy.
A sandwich without organs.
A sandwich that is perfectly spherical.
A sandwich that will be the prize for a three day long battle-royale fighting competition between 100 people; the great outdoor fight.
A sandwich that can only be given freely, as a gift.
A sandwich to be transmuted into the body of Christ.
A sandwich to mediate conflict and settle disputes.
A caffeinated sandwich.
A sandwich made from wild ingredients, foraged in an urban environment.
A sandwich that will be auctioned off for enough money to buy forty acres and a mule.
A sandwich to be experienced through sound, not taste.
A translucent sandwich.
A sandwich that will call into question the role of the Subway corporation in the creation and dissemination of sandwich art.
A sandwich that will be put on a pedestal and left to rot.
A sandwich for ducks.
A sandwich with a relatively low LD50.
A sandwich to be eaten one bite at a time for eight hours.
A sandwich for poisoning emperors.
A knuckle sandwich.
A sandwich for post-humans.
A sandwich without a gender.
A sandwich made while blindfolded, with one’s ears and nose stopped up.
A sandwich that grants immunity to proof of payment for everyone on a bus with said sandwich.
A sandwich spoken of only in whispers.
An open source sandwich.
A sandwich that is a soup.
A sandwich that will pay my rent.
A solar powered sandwich.
A sandwich that will abolish the sandwich artist class.
A sandwich that vibrates at 432 Hertz.
A sandwich that will be panini pressed from six directions, creating a compressed sandwich cube.
A sandwich to be eaten on the barricades.
An erotic sandwich experience for the asexual.
A wish against the coming desert sands.
A sandwich art strike.