They say you can never duplicate an original.
'They' obviously haven't met the good people at Tombstone Pizza.
The down-home, homegrown, made-the-way-you-make-your-own pizza's headquarters has done something that only the Coca-Cola Corporation ever had the gumption to admit.
They made a mistake.
Tombstone, the original frozen pizza, can evoke a number of different memories.
Weekend nights as a child spent with a favorite babysitter, campground recreation halls, pre-teen birthday parties and a little later in life, perhaps a favorite corner bar.
It's the down-home, homegrown, made-the-way-you-make-your-own pizza, and for lovers of the sausage pizza it is coming back in its original version.
Bachelors, college students and divorcees take note.
No longer will the large, bland pieces of sausage have to be tolerated.
It's back to the small stuff.
About 10 years ago, someone in the corporate offices of Kraft Foods (Tombstone's parent company) must have hit the CheezWhiz a little too hard.
For some reason, the officials at Tombstone must have gotten the impression that their pizzas were better than they were, and they changed the recipe.
No longer were items laid along and loaded up with lots of mozzarella on the pizza.
No longer were they the way you make your very own.
Not for this pizza chef.
Tombstone Pizza, I'll admit, is not the greatest pie in the world.
Not by far.
But I will admit, it grows on you.
It's the Cheeseburger Macaroni Hamburger Helper, Lipton Cup-O-Soup or Sloppy Joe of the pizza world.
It may not be the finest dining around, but it has its own unique charm.
So when the makers of Tombstone decided to go with larger and fewer sausages on their pizza in the early 90s, as a bachelor and college student, I was outraged.
As most pizza aficionados such as myself will attest to, it is a widely-known fact that a pizza's success stems from its sauce.
Tombstone apparently didn't realize this, and thought they could fool the general public.
"We'll make it look like a pizzeria would make it look like," they must have thought.
It was still round, but a pie from a pizzeria hardly.
Colonel Sanders didn't change his original recipe, and aside from being dead he's still doing pretty well.
And, if I want a good pizza, I'll shuck out the extra duckets to my buddy Jimmy at Carelli's.
At 3 a.m., though, that is not an option.
Thank you, Tombstone executives, you have made this customer proud.
And if you need me, I'll be at home pre-heating my oven to 400 degrees.