Visual Assessment: With all honesty, I didn’t read a single word on this box until right now and am currently struggling to make it through a sentence. I’m getting tired. This pizza box is wearisome. In order to stay awake, I’m going to insert some more media because there’s certainly nothing fun to see on that tedious, tedious box unless you find a Wingdings crown at all stimulating.
A spot-on comparison by Attempted Blogger and, like Dr. B’s labels, this pizza box lid requires some parsing.
They start out by quoting themselves welcoming you to their/your pizza. Weird. Here you’ll also find the only exclamation point; the rest of the box drones on using oddly-placed ellipses about family pride, fresh ingredients and ends up sounding like a eulogy for St. Anthony Polcari: the hardest working man ever.
I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to hear about how great the pizza they used to make was. We spend an awful lot of time in the past on this pizza box, and even though they try to twist it around to say everything has been delicious and wonderful for 85 years, they can’t completely hide their wistfulness with the almost-morbid “Since those early days, the faces have changed.” The follow-up of “But the Polcari family still keeps a watchful eye over all” is weird and menacing and WHY ARE WE TALKING ABOUT THIS IT IS A PIZZA BOX NOT A NOVELLA. Oh, but it is.
Generic product claims: Despite this pizza box already being a big old windbag, they still slide in a few things that everyone already knows about pizza. Namely, that pride and hard work make the best pizzas, as does using the freshest, finest ingredients. Yawn city.
Overall: Way too much lore, and it’s poorly-written and weird. Comic Sans, a QR code, and a shitty crown are the only visual jazz, and the actual name of the pizzeria is jammed down in the lower corner. All visual content critiques aside, the pizza itself was very delicious and highly recommended. As the Polcari’s “special pride” warrants, I was “happily satisfied” indeed.