Sandwich Theory

We at Worker’s Spatula pride ourselves in being both the most theoretically advanced of shitposters, and also the shittiest of theoreticians. It comes as a great disappointment to us that in our years of weird theoretical interventions on Facebook, Twitter, WordPress, and now Instagram, we have barely succeeded in explaining even the most basic fact about Hegel’s dialectical method which Marx upheld and appropriated, namely that it is not about THESIS – ANTITHESIS – SYNTHESIS.

We encourage readers who really are coming at this stuff from the beginning to start with the famous Twitter thread. However, we recognise that some of our examples were either too political or too philosophical for many of our target audience, who are used to discussing everything in terms of what is and what is not a sandwich.

Therefore, we present to you, our dear readers, comrades and strugglers, toilers and oppressed, from Melbourne to Moscow, the dialectical answer to the question “is it a sandwich?”

Is a hot dog a sandwich?

Well, obviously it must first be said that a hot dog is technically a kind of sausage, which is ordinarily served in a manner that provokes sandwich controversy:

the thing in the package is a hot dog,
the thing on the label may be a sandwich

However, the standard presentation of the hamburger patty in contemporary culinary norms being called a “hamburger”, we accept that most readers likewise will excuse further reference to a hot dog on a hot dog bun as a “hot dog”. Are these bread-meat combinations sandwiches?

Without a doubt. By removing the sausage or the patty and replacing them with, e.g. tuna fish, everyone would agree that what you have before you is none other than a sandwich. Consider this indisputable sandwich from the chain “SUBWAY”:

Clearly there is nothing more sandwich-like about this than a hot dog

So then is our answer so simple? Is a sandwich merely anything inside of bread? Let us turn to other possibilities:

Is an Onigiri a sandwich?

We have no doubt that some readers will doubt that the tasty snack displayed below constitutes a sandwich exactly and precisely because it is not made out of bread. But we have equally no doubt that each and every person who seeks to exclude onigiri from the category of “sandwich” is a frothing racist:

You’ve been called out, onigiri-haters.

The “filling” of the onigiri is clearly sandwiched between rice, and it is meant to be eaten much in the manner of a sandwich, and accordingly fills, in Japanese society in particular, the universal social role of a sandwich.

So it is clear that no true internationalist revolutionary can disagree that onigiri too are sandwiches. The matter here is that we have only initial affirmations of sandwichhood, with no negation, and thus NO DIALECTICAL PROCESS THROUGH WHICH TRUE KNOWLEDGE OF SANDWICH-HOOD CAN CONCRETELY EMERGE.

Let us reveal the essence of the sandwich phenomenon through its negation, the un-sandwich:

Is a pie a sandwich?

As with the hot dog example above, certain terms are imprecise for theoretical/philosophical sandwiches. The word “pie” is used for a great many things, but let us consider this extremely haram English pork pie, purely for theoretical reasons because no Spatula writer-militant would dare allow pork to touch their lips, and could only be made to eat pork under the duress of torture by fascists:

Don’t look at it for too long, Allah will grow displeased.

While it cannot be denied that bread contains this repugnant dish on every side, it cannot be eaten in the manner of a sandwich. Beyond the act of parallel containment by sandwiching, the preparation of a true sandwich must be mindful of the end result of the process by which a sandwich is eaten as food, in a sandwich-like fashion:

A sandwich is made to be held in the hands by its sandwiching parts and eaten likewise for the convenience and enjoyment of the proletarian worker (who has ideally produced it for themselves in an unalienated fashion, but perhaps has purchased it as a commodity because we live under capitalism).

In other words, despite having all the formalist appearance of a sandwich, and indeed being constructed through sandwiching, unless you can unhinge your jaw like a fucking python, the food this man is showing us is in social practice no sandwich:

It is, however, arguably very erotic.

We hope that the theoretical essence of sandwichhood has thus been revealed, and through this, any serious Marxist can now determine for themselves if almost any foodstuff is a sandwich.

Is a pizza a sandwich? A taco? A burrito? A falafel wrap?

As we have already charged deniers of the sandwichhood of the onigiri and upholders of the sandwichhood of that girthy monster above with formalism, it should be clear that it is highly undialectical to deny that any foodstuff, from an ice cream sandwich to a Hot Pocket, which is produced in such a manner that it may be purposefully consumed in the manner of a sandwich through sandwiching is a sandwich.

A Pop-Tart is a sandwich.

Most controversially, this means that we deny the sandwichhood of the so-called “open-face sandwich” as REVISIONIST.

However, any “open-face sandwich”, including any slice of most varieties of pizza (putting aside the culinarily superior Chicago-style “deep dish” pizza), that can be accordingly manipulated may be rendered a sandwich through the simple act of folding:

A cheese and tomato sandwich.

Disagree with any single word of this on social media and you will be blocked and reported to Stalin.

Sandwich workers and oppressed
sandwiches of the world, unite!

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Happy Birthday, Joey Steel!

There are many reasons to defend the legacy of Comrade Ioseb Besarionis dze Jughashvili, also known as Joseph Stalin, Koba, Joey Steel, and more intimately, as Sam Steel. There are those who might emphasise his status as the last principled leader of the Soviet Union and the Bolshevik Communist Party which led the process of its construction. There are those who would defend his successful leadership during the darkest days of the anti-fascist struggle, ultimately emerging as the head of the anti-fascist front that would liberate the east of Germany from Hitlerite fascism and beating back the imperialist camp to the greatest extent since the October Revolution, a high water mark in the internationalisation of class struggle which was tragically never to be reached again thanks to the rise of modern revisionism and the Sino-Soviet split.

But on the occasion of his birthday, we want to emphasise a different side of Joey Steel. We want to emphasise that before becoming the face of the heights of organised struggle against capitalism-imperialism and all the ensuing controversies of the great struggle to reshape human society beyond capitalism, beyond profits, beyond exploitation… before there was even a Soviet Union… even before he was organising militias to separate out intercommunal violence in Baku and robbing banks… before he was Koba, he was an ordinary person like any of us. He was a member of an oppressed nationality under the Tsarist empire (the Georgians), he was impoverished, he suffered from abuse from his alcoholic father, and he contracted smallpox. From such humble beginnings, any single one of us can become a figure of greatness like Joseph Stalin.

But there is one thing about the personage of the young Stalin which makes him drastically different to most readers: he was fit as fuck, and could absolutely get it, any time, any place, no questions asked.

Look at that gorgeous example of Georgian manhood. Mm-mm, comrades. Mm-mm. Before he became a typical Caucasian uncle (which, if that’s your type, no judgement), Joey Steel looked like he could really lay down some steel, if you know what I’m saying.

Marxism-Leninism.

We like to imagine sexy young Stalin was always hooking up with the other lads in his seminary, and was known as much for his beautiful singing voice as being pleasantly girthy. Not too girthy, you understand. Not enough to the point where it looks weird. Just girthy enough that you can tell just by looking that it’s got some heft.

Whew. Going to need a minute here. You all listen to this song from the “Stalin Did Nothing Wrong” Conference while I uh… take care of some stuff:

 

So uh… yes. Happy birthday to Joseph Stalin, and to all the sexy enemies of Trotskyism, opportunism and modern revisionism, the world over.

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