We all know about McDonald�s plans to eliminate the super size. This, inherently, is pointless, as the amount of calories in a large, non-super sized portion is only 70 or so calories less than in the super sized.

I loved the super size because, in the innuendo sense, it was on par with the big bang. Also, it was a lot of fries, and the Irishman in me loves his potato.

I decry this trend toward healthier eating. Sure, there are stalwarts of greasy goodness out there that keep serving up horribly tasty fats unapologetically. Still, these purveyors of pudge have not gone far enough to satisfy the likes of me.

Long have I dreamed of a burger joint that has a reckless disregard for my health. I have searched far and wide for a place that will actively try to destroy me, to no avail. On realizing that no such place exists, it has become my dream to see through the construction of a truly terrible cheeseburger.

This is my story.

Starting with the buns, I�d find the richest bread they make. The bun equivalent of the whitest Wonder Bread, but worse for you. Then, much like they do in restaurants with toast, I�d soak the damn thing in butter. A lot of butter.

After that, each half of the bun would be slathered in mayonnaise. And, really, slathered is the only word for it.

Cheese, of course, is the next step. Personally, I love cheese. Often have I eaten a burger and wanted more cheese. Imagine a burger with twice the normal amount of cheese. Then triple it. This amount of cheese should suffice. And I want it melting all over the place.

A slice of ham. Medium thick. Spiced to taste.

Bacon, then. But not the crunchy parts that are brown. No, the focus here will be on the soft, see through, gristly stuff that�s on the edges. We all know that�s the best part. Let�s not deny ourselves.

A little more cheese.

The burger itself. I envision fields of soft, fat cows, fed only on other soft, fat cows that were fed sticks of butter. These cows will be suspended on feather pillows, so that they need never move and exert the muscles that would make their delectable insides even a little bit tough.

Each patty? Half a pound apiece, minimum. Soaked overnight in a huge vat of the finest garlic oils. Perfectly fried the next day to the point of medium wellness.

It will be only through sheer strength of will and the respect for a proper, true burger that the patties will not be breaded, though that may be an option for people who want it.

Then, add some more cheese.

Lettuce, tomato, onion, ketchup, mustard: all optional.

For patrons eating in this wonderful establishment, there will be a fry bar. Now, I think this really is an idea whose time has come. Imagine a buffet of fries under hot lights.

Steak fries, thin fries, shoestrings, fries fried to a crisp, fries just slightly undercooked, curly fries, breaded fries, garlic fries, wedge fries, thick chip style fries�next to it all, a few tubs of sour cream, shredded cheddar, scallions, maybe some chili. OK, some chili.

The name for this bit of heaven on earth?

I�m open to suggestion. I�d go even if they called it Hitler Burger.