Today in ill-advised synergy:

Ok, I'm back now. Huh? From where? Burning Man. We talked about this and--huh? Where are you going? Wait, no, don't worry, I'm not going to talk about. I'm on something else entirely and it involves chain restaurants and--ugh--synergy.

Synergy: when you think of corpses, think Denny's.

Proverbs 24:16 And yea, this product contains
chemicals known to the State of California to cause
cancer, birth defects of other reproductive harm.

Anyway, so we were on our way back from Burning Ma--uh, I mean, somewhere that was far enough away that I was driving at one in the morning--the point is it was late and we were hungry so we went to a Denny's. To be clear, it's only in extraordinary circumstances that I will enter an establishment that serves branded food. Those circumstances are: it's late and I'm hungry and there's literally no other options but goddamn Denny's, or it's an In-n-Out. One is born of desperation and the other is because I live in California and we're legally required to like In-n-Out despite the weird evangelizing they try to do via the paper french fry baskets. 

I pity the 2034 Denny's marketing
exec who will have to find some way
to sell Crickets Over My Hammy.

Whilst perusing a laminated menu boasting, for better or worse, an absurd number of mediocre options with objectively silly names--I'll be cold in the ground before I, an adult, order Moons Over My Hammy--I came across an equally laminated insert. This appendix, this sub-menu, offered, for a limited time only, mind you, Beetlejuice-themed meals. As in, the sequel to the 1988 Micheal Keaton vehicle and not ground up insects. Climate change is likely to force us to move in that direction someday, but not today.

The deep fried mozzarella sticks are supposed
to remind us of a rib cage, I guess? Oh, and
consequently or our own mortality. Enjoy!

Instead, and perhaps even more soul-crushingly, we are confronted with "The Afterlife Menu" which, unimaginative name aside, does what it says on the tin. That is, it lists four regular old Denny's dishes with tortured puns for names and, in the case of two of them, green food coloring. Because ghosts? The offerings include and are entirely limited to: The Afterlife Melt (weak). The Cookies 'N' Scream Shake (k). The Say it Three Times Slam (I won't), and finally and most regretably, The Beetlejuicy Burger. 

The tastelessness (if not accuracy) of linking their food with death aside, I suppose I'm mostly bothered by the laziness of it. The gross capitalism, sure, but I'm becoming numb to advertisements. It's that they really need to up their "I can't believe how low marketing people will sink" game. We live in a world of popcorn buckets shaped like Ryan Reynolds offering sexual favors. Green sprinkles and lame word play (I mean, Tally Me Banana Split was right there) just don't cut it any more. 

Where's the That Scene Where Geena Davis Rips Her Face Off Slam?
Oh, and you're welcome Denny's marketing department.