Seriously? A Barbecue Sandwich?

As has been my practice for several years (and my contribution to the demise of the printed news format), I began the day by reading electronic versions of the news, as I consumed my two morning hits of caffeine. I won't bore you with the details of my daily reading ritual, but I was working my way through when my eyes homed in on a simple, three-word headline: The McRib Returns.

As I stared at the words, I thought "That can't be what I think it is . . . can it?" Ever so tentatively, I clicked on the link. All too quickly, my high-speed connection filled my 22-inch computer monitor with a full-color picture of an oblong, sesame seed-topped bun, clamped around a slightly rippled brick-like object with brown ooze dripping from it. A smattering of uncooked onion strips peeked out from between the bun and the brick, as if struggling to escape.

It was, indeed, The McRib.

This wasn't my first hint of the annual paean to pork bellies. I had already seen several television commercials, depicting grown men and women acting like kids who had just found their very own Red Ryder BB Gun under the Christmas tree.

Now, my intent is not to bash this barbecue sandwich or the people who rejoice at its annual return. Instead, I'd like to know how this event qualifies as big news. How did it make the front page of At a time of unprecedented turmoil in the Middle East, the Occupy movement, the 10th anniversary of military action in Afghanistan, the lead-up to the 2012 presidential election, how did the return of McRib become front-page news? Do we really have nothing more pressing?

Granted, the story appeared in the financial news. Still, how does a barbecue sandwich achieve the same news stature as unemployment, the financial crisis in the European Union, turmoil in the real estate market, and the growing population of people living in poverty?

I'm sure the return of the McRib has some deeper meaning that warrants front-page coverage by a leading news organization, but for the moment, it escapes me.