During a rare moment of watching a network channel last night (hey, gimme a break; Ned's Declassified School Survival Guide is on sabbatical apparently and someone at Food Network must have discovered that Alton Brown is actually -- gasp -- cooking), Sed and I were affronted by the latest delivery abomination.

"New Pizza Hut Stuffed Pizza Sandwiches!" the TV blared.

"Wait," Sed interjected. "You mean, like, a calzone?"

Pizza Hut has had calzones on its menu before, but for some reason the company can't seem to embrace the existing word. Last time, they called it a "P'Zone," and despite (or, let's be honest, probably because of) Eddie Griffin loudly extolling its virtues it never seemed to catch on. Maybe because nobody without a coprophilia fetish would be caught dead unironically saying the word "P'Zone."

So now the Hut has taken the opposite tack -- rather than inventing a hip, edgy, X-trEEm product name, the suits in Marketing decided to market this product by the definition. After all, "calzone," which as I've mentioned is a word that existed before, already means "stuffed pizza sandwich" in Italian-American restaurant vernacular. But the "P'Zone" debacle convinced Hut management that America was not ready for some damn foreigner word shouldering its way onto delivery menus with its dago mustache.

I suppose in all fairness I should not expect a fast-food megalith with "Hut" in its name to even consider, much less embrace, any even slightly ethnic-sounding terminology. But come on, guys. Economy of language. Melting pot. Dictionaries are already long enough.