Fast Food Fatah

When that moody old guy who lives somewhere north of Cloud Nine dumped us in Atascadera, Calif., he delivered a mission. Unearth the secret behind the wholesome, red-necked goodness behind our dear In-N-Out Burger. What could I do but oblige? The Big Guy needed an answer. So, smarting from the sight of my fellow diners, many of whom were either "Supersized" or wore spurs, or both, I meekly ordered an "Easy #2," a delightful combination of "Cheese Burger, Fries and Medium Drink," which turned out to be a Root Beer.
My hopes were rising as I read how the potatos were peeled and cubed onsite, that the beef was never frozen (is that really such a good thing?), but alas I looked at my lunch. And then touched it. And then tried to remove the paper wrapper from the burger. It...wouldn't...come...free, or at least not until I severed the umbilical chain of orange plastic (cheese?) that was busy smothering an already patty-shaped cow.
Shaking, I put the burger to my mouth, all the while grease and hollandaise sauce dripping onto my fries. I was surprised. In-N-Out burgers taste good. Really good. Apparently, there is a purpose behind the alleged freshness of the food. Sure, my fingers were inch-deep in a healthy layer of grease, by my tongue was thanking me for withstanding such an experience. All in all, if you can imagine a McDonalds meal with multi-faceted substance, you have in your hands an In-N-Out Burger. Clearly, the owners are confident enough in this selling point to offer fanware for dedicated customers. For just $15, you can have yourself a replica uniform. As to whether such an option if attractive to the somewhat country Atascadera clientele, I don't know, but considering that the mean weight of the restaurant hovered around 200lbs, I was in the presence of awesome dedication.
So Mr. Big Guy, here you have it, the secret behind the success of the "Hokepoke" Burger is this: McDonalds without the guilt is an attractive meal choice for many Californians. Apparently.