Or rather - Who is Eating Your Bacon? Two birds, at a cafe in San Diego, eating some delicious looking bacon. In fact, they had whole plates full of it. Their owners were eating eggs.
I, on the other hand, am living not as well as these birds. Without owners to buy me bacon at a fancy cafe, I had the new breakfast sandwich at the always-bacon-friendly Quizno's. It was decent; made with chunk bacon, as opposed to wafer-thin strips. But the old bacon / orange cheese / egg thing is a little tired. It could have used some red onions, perhaps a few mushrooms and another egg. A couple of days later, I considered thee Burger King French Toast sandwich; trying to one-up the McGriddles. Two pasty British tourists eagerly ordered the sandwiches, which in the end, looked gross, and whatever I ended up with, it had the usual Burger King consistency: Soft; as if designed to be eaten by people who no longer had teeth.
BK HoBonus: A hobo came in with a jaunty hat and a tennis racket, as if he'd just finished giving a couple early morning lessons on Coronado to some wealthy rich widows, and promplty came up to every person in the place and demanded, "Do you have a dollar?!" It was an ill-placed strategy, though certainly to the point. It netted him nothing. I thought of asking for the racket in trade for the dollar, but in the end I remembered that I actually dislike talking to hobos. (I dislike talking to anyone really; hobos just slightly more.) As he left the establishment, he was nearly run down by a car he walked in front of, at which he yelled continually "Do you have a dollar?! Do you have a dollar?!" The car did indeed give him a dollar.