We guess a delivery car or bicyclist was too pedestrian for tech folks; over in San Francisco, something called TacoCopter has popped up, delivering online orders of tacos via helicopter — an unmaned, robotic one, to be exact.

According to the bare bones web site, all you have to do is place your order on your iPhone, tap away, and await the TacoCopter

– Jessica Chou, the Daily Meal.

My wife is oddly vigilant about making sure people actually make wishes at appropriate moments: Before breaking a wishbone, while blowing out birthday candles, when the clock strikes 11:11. I love her so I usually indulge her, though she’d never know if I didn’t since the wishes are never spoken.

Anyway, unless all those banked wishes from the two and half years I’ve been married (and all the time we dated before that) suddenly came true, I’m going to go ahead and assume that the Tacocopter is not a real thing.

I mean… no way, right? An unmanned, robotic quadrotor helicopter that delivers tacos? That’s what you call “too good to be true” my friends. This has to be some sort of publicity stunt. Maybe guerrilla marketing for some movie about a utopian future, or a scam to trick honest, taco-craving Americans into divulging their locations and credit card information.

The Tacocopter “co-founder,” Dustin Boyer, said on quora that it’s “definitely real” but that “there are a number of technical and legal hurdles that our team is working through.”

Straight up: I will believe this when I’m eating a taco that was delivered to me by an unmanned robot helicopter and not a second before.

Via Paul Vargas.

OK, good question. At home I’m a mustard man; there are currently four or five varieties of mustard in my fridge and before I moved I had upwards of seven. I’ll assume for the purposes of this conversation we’re also excluding honey mustard as form of mustard, plus Russian dressing*, Dijonnaise, mustardmayotardayonnaise and any other sauce formed by combining two or more of mustard, mayo and ketchup.

Obviously it depends on the sandwich: My favorite condiment isn’t always my favorite condiment for the sandwich I’m making. And there are things like tomato sauce which when on a chicken-parm hero are clearly condiments but probably aren’t what you’re looking for here so I will exclude.

Off the top of my head, I’m going to go with

3. Sriracha: Fiery hot but still sweet with an awesome distinctive flavor that goes well with tons of things. I put it on sandwiches and most other things.

2. Oil and balsamic vinegar: Is that technically two condiments? Whatever, I don’t care, I make the rules around here bro. The oil keeps things moist and the vinegar adds a ton of taste. My go-to for every non-parm Italian sandwich. The only downside is it doesn’t travel well.

1. The green sauce from Pio Pio: What is that stuff? I don’t know but everything about it is amazing. Go to Pio Pio and take some food home. Make sure they pack up the green sauce too. Then use the green sauce to make a sandwich. It can be a boring-ass turkey sandwich on white bread with no cheese, but you pour some of that green sauce on there and you’ve got an incredible sandwich. I wish they would just sell bottles of the stuff to carry out and/or drink right there on the street corner.

It’s tough to honor lifetime achievement in comedy because so few people keep churning out funny movies for more than a decade or so. Also, if we’re talking just movies here, it’s important to distinguish all four of those guys from their standup and/or Saturday Night Live work. But then I guess most of Eddie Murphy’s standup stuff that I’m familiar with is from Raw and Delirious, which were movies, so… I don’t know how to handle that.

I’m pretty sure the answer is either Bill Murray, Dan Aykroyd, Harold Ramis and Ernie Hudson or Bill Murray, Bill Murray, Bill Murray and Bill Murray.

I’d go so far as to argue Bill Murray should be on the regular Mount Rushmore but I don’t think it’s fair to include him in such ignoble company.

No, I hadn’t! That link’s not going to work. It’s here. The sandwich looks like this:

Here’s the description:

The Moby Dick features a 15-inch sesame-seed hoagie roll, five quarter-pound fish filets, eight slices of cheese, six ounces of clam strips, one-third pound of French fries, one cup of cole slaw, all topped off by gobs of lettuce, tomatoes, pickles, and tartar sauce — all for only $20.

The final product weighs in at over three pounds and feeds two fans uncomfortably or four fans comfortably. The sandwich, with over 4,000 calories and a diet-killing 200 grams of fat, will be available in select locations throughout Classic Park at all Captains home games.

Never change, Minor League Baseball.

A dollar slice isn’t hard to come by in this city. A good dollar slice is a different story altogether.

The best dollar slice in the city has arrived, and it’s at Percy’s — a cozy pizzeria at 190 Bleecker St., in Greenwich Village.

– Max Gross, N.Y. Post.

I haven’t had Percy’s yet, though it seems inevitable that I will at some point. It seems like the most common response to the burgeoning dollar-slice pizza craze is, “Hey, that’s a pretty good slice of pizza for a dollar,” or “wow, you know this really isn’t that bad.”

And it’s true: Most of the dollar (or 99-cent) pizza I’ve tried really isn’t that bad. Better than most national chain pizzas, though that isn’t saying much. Plus most of the places are open late, found in convenient locations, and serve the pizza hot and fast. And, of course, you can’t beat the value. It’s a near-meal or a very solid late-night drunken snack for a single dollar.

So the trend is welcome as long as it doesn’t have any affect on the real, non-dollar pizza places the city is famous for. True story: I skipped dinner one night while Christmas shopping and realized I was famished just as I was walking past the 99-cent pizza place in my neighborhood. I stopped in for a slice and ate it on my walk home, thinking all the things I always think about how it’s just not that bad and it’s such a good deal for 99 cents.

But I was still hungry when I finished, so I ducked into a regular-old three-dollar-slice pizzeria and got a second slice there. And then… oh, right: Pizza’s not supposed to be not that bad. Pizza — good pizza — is f@#$ing amazing. Every single aspect of the more expensive slice blew away its 99-cent counterpart: The sauce was tastier, the cheese stretchier and less rubbery, the crust crispier and more flavorful.

There are a hell of a lot of hungry people in this city and most of them rightfully want pizza. So ideally the local economy can support both the 99-cent slice places and the traditional pizzerias, since they both offer something valuable. They offer very different things, like Taco Bell and actual Mexican restaurants or McDonald’s and anyplace that serves burgers that isn’t McDonald’s. And though perhaps in the case of the pizzas the distinction is a little more subtle, there should be room on our streets and in our stomachs for both styles.