I'd like to thank LIttle Caesar's Pizza for opening a new "Hot & Ready" take-out restaurant next to my workplace. Adding to other healthy eating establishments in the neighborhood such as Burger King, Quizno's, and the Spur station's day-old weiner rotisserie, Little Caesar's fills a vast gap in the West End's food scene. Because until the arrival of the big LC, absolutely none of the area's food smelled like balls.

In no way am I suggesting that the people who work at Little Caesar's rub, dip, or otherwise nuzzle their meaty scrotums into, on, or against any of the pizzas that they sell. This is not a problem with an individual pizza, or even with this individual restaurant. The fact is that all Little Caesar's pizzas carry the strong, cheesy aroma of the human testis.

I will go even further. Not only do the pizzas smell like fuzzy love-nuggets, but the restaurants themselves smell the same way. Additionally, the entire atmosphere surrounding each and every LC establishment simply reeks of manly gonadal oils.

Biting into a Little Caesar's pizza is like sitting in a men's locker room and swaddling your face in dirty athletic supporters. Every taste is a sensory explosion of greasy man-junk. Soaked into the crust, infused into the sauce, fermented into the cheese, and basted all over the meats.

Thank you, Little Caesar's. We are all ever so grateful for this testicularly delicious sensation you've created.