Here's What That Nightmare Guy Fieri Cheesecake Actually Looks Like

Remember that time we made fun of Guy Fieri, by which I mean any time any human being has ever talked about Guy Fieri? Well, it’s time to head back to Flavortown for another trip on the Fiericoaster, because we now have photo evidence of Guy Fieri’s inhumane treatment of innocent edibles.

Andrew Kiraly at KNPR journeyed into the dark heart of Cheesecake Mountain, and had this to say about the experience:

Instead of sitting flat — commonsense, quotidian, even jejune — the cheesecake is set on its edge like a wheel, so it presents itself as a sort of runaway half of a dirty and broken Thundarr the Barbarian moon that’s been ripped out of orbit by cosmic forces beyond our reckoning. And, by now calorie-drunk, swooning with surfeit, I imagined Guy Fieri straddling that ragged crescent cake-moon like a motorcycle, riding into a cold and inscrutable universe, crying for an answer, a connection, somebody, anybody, with his painted flames and chocolate-sauced potato chips, his pepperoni armor and outsized burgers: Is anybody out there? I’ve got cheesecaaaaake!

Really, the whole review is absolutely golden, but nowhere is this more apparent than the cheesecakevalanche section. If we’re being fair, much like Kiraly, I actually have a lot to thank Guy Fieri for — making fun of him has been basically money in the bank for me. The above monstrosity was, like everything else at Guy Fieri’s Vegas Kitchen & Bar, part of our first trip into Guy’s Rockin’ Cheesegasm of Donkey Sauce. Here’s what I wrote about it at the time:

Wait, you topped a cheesecake with potato chips and pretzels?! You are the reason we need a Geneva Convention for food, Guy Fieri. Your food crimes must be stopped.

As the pictures make clear, I BADLY undersold the horror of this monstrosity. To be fair, though, if that original menu had come with pictures, I would’ve turned it into a 15-part series, because holy crap, Guy Fieri is an endless font of unintentional comedy. The menu description is inaccurate: this thing hasn’t been “topped” with potato chips and pretzels, it bravely leapt onto a Ruffles grenade to save its cheesecake comrades. Its sacrifice shall not be forgotten, no matter how those traitorous Parfaits try to slander its war record posthumously.

Oh, that’s nice; someone’s been thoughtful enough to wound the cheesecake with a knife, which the customer could hopefully then use to kill it the rest of the way. That’ll definitely be necessary, because there’s absolutely no chance this thing isn’t haunted by the murdered ghosts of cheesecakes past. That looks like what I imagine Ed Gein requested for his last meal. Elvis would look at this and go “hey, now, wait up a sec.” That’s not a dessert, it’s an act of defiance against the Gods.

Never stop being you, Guy Fieri. Seriously, don’t stop — making fun of you is at least 1/3 of the reason I have a job.