Seeing you on top of a pile of fries is not going to make me like you more (Photograph via Corbis)

Yesterday I caught the attention of Bon Appetit's editors with this profane tweet about mayonnaise. The trigger-happy brave assistant who runs the @bonappetit Twitter account retweeted it, then, all of a sudden, the retweet was deleted. Big Mayonnaise was clearly behind the deletion (or maybe it was just because the tweet was super foul). Mayo-Gate ensued. Ever wonder why the White House is white? #BIGMAYO Why every deli has a tuna salad? #BIGMAYO.

Now BA's given me the opportunity to explain myself. So here I go:

I hate mayonnaise. I hate it, and I've hated it my entire life. But I can't seem to escape it. You mayo-haters out there know what I mean. You walk into a restaurant, you order something and say, "but no mayo," then when it's delivered to you not only is there mayo on it, there is an OFFENSIVE amount of mayo on it. Every pore in the bread bursts with it. It's such a horrible thing to experience, because it means that either your server forgot your request to hold the mayo or--and this is far worse--your server IGNORED the request. "What? Hold the mayo? He can't possibly be serious. Let's triple the mayo so that he appreciates it fully."

And people who like the stuff think that the infiltration of mayo is no big deal. "Just scrape it off with a knife," they say. Oh really? You think it's that easy? Getting mayo off a sandwich is like trying to take a nude photo of yourself off the Internet. It cannot happen. The evil genius of mayo is that it gets EVERYWHERE once it's been applied to a sandwich. It spreads. It lurches. It finds corners and hides in them, like a rogue sniper waiting to kill.

There is mayonnaise in everything these days. There's mayonnaise in sushi. WHY? What did my shrimp tempura roll ever do to piss off the sushi chef? There's mayonnaise in crab cakes--far more mayo than actual crab--and the crab cake maker always says, "You'll never taste the mayo, I just needed it to hold the cake together." Yeah, well I can taste the mayo. I can feel it oozing through the crab and invading my tongue. And it makes me want to choke.

Every gourmet burger has mayonnaise now. You go to Shake Shack, you get aioli, which is mayonnaise in some kind of upscale disguise. YOU ARE FOOLING NO ONE, AIOLI. I KNOW WHAT YOU ARE. I went to The Burger Joint in Maryland the other week and every burger there comes with "Mojo Sauce." Do they warn you that Mojo Sauce has mayo in it? NO, they do not. Instead, you wait 15 minutes for your burger only to discover that it's been RUINED. I should be warned about all sauces that contain mayo, just as if they contained peanuts--or arsenic. This goes double for you, tartar sauce.

Now, this is Bon Appetit, so all you fancy-pants people are gonna throw this back in my face and be all, "But Drew, making a delicious homemade French aioli is simple if you have eight free hours, a hand-churn, and a bottle of compressed 1809 olive oil. It tastes nothing like store-made!" Maybe. But I will NEVER like mayo, and I want those pro-mayo lobbyists out there to STOP trying to force me to un-hate it. Just leave me alone. I don't force my love of Jamiroquai on anyone else, and I would hope that you would reciprocate.

Or maybe #BIGMAYO has gotten to you all? --Drew Magary