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I’ve probably eaten more pizza in my life than any other particular type of food.
I’m not kidding — I worked at a local pizza place for about seven years throughout highschool and in my early adulthood, and you’d better believe I was complimenting my meager hourly wage with leftover slices whenever possible.
Suffice it to say, even after all that ‘za, I’m still a big fan of the art of pizza making.
Which is why it was so devastating, so heartbreaking, so tragical to hear about what may have been the biggest pizza disaster to ever happen to humankind: The Great Michigan Pizza Funeral of 1973.
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