Good one, Michael! Someday the government may rule that everyone has to have a UPC code emblazoned on their body, just so the entities in charge can keep track of everyone and make us conform to their rules.  Wow.

The announcement crackled across televisions and blared from radios, punctuated by the rhythmic clatter of ticker tape falling in the White House press room. "Free Pizza Friday!" a headline in bold declared on news websites. A nation weary of political division and economic uncertainty collectively paused, forks halfway to mouths, phones hovering over social media feeds. Free pizza? Every Friday? Courtesy of President Trump's masterful pruning of government waste?

The initial reaction was, understandably, disbelief. Snarky memes popped up faster than pepperoni on a hot pie. "Is this real life?" one read, featuring a Photoshopped Trump wearing a chef's hat and brandishing a pizza cutter like a sword. Conspiracy theories blossomed: Was it a plot to bankrupt Domino's? A secret deal with Big Cheese?

But as the details trickled out, meticulously documented on the Government Printing Office's website (a testament to the aforementioned trimmed waste), the skepticism began to thaw. The President, leveraging his business acumen, had negotiated a bulk discount with a consortium of pizzerias, ensuring a standard cheese pizza – large, New York style – to every taxpayer, delivered directly to their door. The delivery confirmation served as proof of receipt, avoiding any potential misuse.

Friday dawned with a buzz unlike any other. Early risers peered out their windows, anticipating the arrival of the government-sponsored feast. The pizza trucks, emblazoned with the Presidential seal and the slogan "Making America Delicious Again," became a common sight on suburban streets and city avenues.

The first few weeks were chaotic. Delivery drivers navigated traffic jams of unprecedented proportions. Online forums were flooded with complaints: "Wrong topping!" "Pizza arrived cold!" "My neighbor ate mine!" The government, however, was surprisingly responsive, establishing a dedicated Pizza Hotline and deploying a team of "Pizza Problem Solvers" to address the logistical nightmares.

Slowly, things began to smooth out. Delivery routes were optimized, GPS tracking ensured timely arrival, and the option to choose a specific delivery time was introduced. The national mood began to shift.

Dinner tables, once battlegrounds for political arguments, were now united by the shared experience of Free Pizza Friday. Families laughed and shared stories over slices of cheese. Neighbors, who previously only nodded in passing, bonded over discussions of crust thickness and sauce tanginess. The pizza became a symbol of unity, a reminder that even in a divided nation, everyone could agree on the simple joy of a free slice.

The economic impact was undeniable. Pizzeria owners saw their businesses boom, hiring new staff and expanding their operations. The demand for mozzarella cheese skyrocketed, boosting the dairy industry. Even the cardboard box manufacturers experienced a renaissance.

Of course, there were still critics. Nutritionists bemoaned the lack of vegetable options. Environmentalists worried about the mountains of pizza boxes filling landfills. Political opponents accused the President of pandering to the masses with a cheap gimmick.

But for most Americans, Free Pizza Friday was a welcome respite from the daily grind. It was a symbol of hope, a reminder that even the government could provide something tangible and universally appreciated.

Years passed. The President served two terms. Free Pizza Friday remained a cornerstone of his legacy, a quirky, populist policy that had somehow, against all odds, united a fractured nation. And every Friday, as the aroma of baked dough and melted cheese filled the air, people would smile, remembering the time when the President, in his inimitable way, had declared, "Let them eat pizza!" And they did. And it was good.

LOL, Mike! Should have just had every mailman pull a trailer of pizzas behind them as they delivered the mail! 

Oh, and I recycle all my pizza boxes, among other stuff. 

Mike,

The recycling company has never mentioned greasy boxes, or dirty plastic.  I recycle all plastic, paper, and cardboard.  The guy simply picks up the bin and dumps it into the truck.  The one thing that they do NOT want is Styrofoam.  Like you, after I recycle everything, I don't have a lot of garbage.  Now and then I'll put a stack of magazines in the bin.

My recycle company isn't that picky, I guess.  Also, I don't put aluminum cans in the bin.  I save them until I get quite a few, then take them to the scrap yard to sell.  Puts money into MY pocket instead of the recycle company's.  By the way, the recycle company isn't the same entity as the garbage pick-up.  The recycle company is, I think, a private company.