"Deep dish pizza is not only not better than New York pizza. It’s not pizza. It’s a fucking casserole. I’m surprised you haven’t thought to complete your deep dish pizza by putting some canned onion rings on it. It’s a cornbread biscuit which you’ve melted cheese on, and then in defiance of God and man and all things holy, you’ve poured uncooked marinara sauce atop the cheese. Atop! The cheese, on top. The sauce, naked, cold, on display like some sort of sauce whore. You know the expression, ‘There’s no such thing as bad sex or bad pizza’? Your pizza is like sex with a corpse made of sandpaper. Let me tell you something. This is not pizza. This is tomato soup in a bread bowl. This is an above-ground marinara swimming pool for rats. Let me tell you something about your fucking not-pizza. I wanna know when I get drunk and pass out on my pizza, that I’m not gonna drown. Let me tell you something…When I look at your deep dish fucking pizza, I don’t know whether to eat it or throw a coin in it and make a wish. And if I made a wish, it would be that I wish for some real fucking pizza. Now, in all due respect I realize it’s very cold in Chicago, very cold, it’s windy, you need to be able to, I dunno, have a pizza to maybe cut it open and climb inside it like a Tauntaun to keep warm. Seriously, who are you kidding? Who uses an iron skillet to make a pizza? You don’t use an iron skillet to make a pizza; you use an iron skillet to fend off someone who tries to serve you fucking pizza made in a skillet. Here’s how I know I’m right. You call it Chicago style pizza, you call it deep dish pizza, stuffed pizza. You know what we call it? Pizza. And by the way, you don’t put tomato and celery all in a fucking hot dog either, you know what I’m saying? Everybody knows there’s three acceptable condiments for a hot dog: mustard, onions, and stagnant cart water. That’s it!"