I could say Polito’s Pizza brings back memories of my college days, but I’d be lying. In fact, the UW-Oshkosh campus-adjacent pizzeria doesn’t bring back any recollections of my brash collegiate youth — the rampant public urination, the form tackling of classmates in church yards, first love, the shoddy promise of a slightly less dim future through sub-standard academia, headbutting a TouchTunes jukebox at Distillery Pub — because Polito’s didn’t open until nearly six months after I graduated.

Rather, the year-old by-the-slice hot spot brings back memories of what was probably the worst period of my life. I was working second shift (including weekends) in the one city I swore to myself I wouldn’t stay following graduation. My commute had me driving over an hour daily, and past my college dorm room and three apartments I inhabited while pursuing my Bachelor’s Degree — dreaming of more. I gained weight; I looked in the mirror every day a was embarrassed of the person I saw, which – in turn – found me inflicting irreparable damage to my (former) relationship, my friendships and my career path because I couldn’t even keep myself happy.

Still, the recent Stevens Point transplant that was Polito’s Pizza in Oshkosh was good enough to at least dull the pains of looking out at South Scott Hall through their window and thinking to myself “How did I get here?” on my lunch break. It was a palatable piece of an otherwise unsavoury experience… like Heather Graham getting naked in a movie in which she must also act.
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Unlike the rest of the Doctors of Za, who came from places with exotic names like “Milwaukee,” “La Crosse,” “Menasha”, and later ended up at UW-Oshkosh, I was actually brought up in Oshkosh’s fertile crescent of booze, boats and substandard housing, and then stayed in town to go to the university where the Doctors of Za first started our mating rituals. So when that pill-head T-Mario starts telling you how Oshkosh has only three great pizza places—Cranky Pat’s (which is just expensive frozen pizza), West End Pizza (which is named as such because you leave the end of your anus in the toilet after you eat it, and anuses flush in a westward direction) and Ratch & Debs (I lived in literal walking distance from here for 17 years and never ate it, so I guess it could be good)—I feel I’m the only doctor than can set that fool straight. Read more »

Search “Ratch and Deb’s Pizza” on Google Images and you’ll find this…

Search the East side of Oshkosh, WI for Ratch & Deb’s and you’ll find something just as fucked up and inexplicably awesome — Ratch & Deb’s deep dish pizza.
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I have no reason to love Cranky Pat’s Pizzeria – but I do.

As a college student, I was one of the Oshkosh location’s inaugural cooks. It was a fun enough college job, and I worked with a group of great people. But I was also laid off during the holidays and routinely sent home an hour into my shift to save a few bucks; I reeked of oregano after every work day; I was scheduled to cook for Town Motel prostitutes and tactless frat rejects on the weekend night shift (6 p.m. to 4 a.m.) when I could’ve otherwise been getting shitfaced or having unprotected sex with my pro-choice then-girlfriend.

I was eventually fired from my $7.00/hr job at Cranky’s a scheduling oversight, thus ending a smelly, often frustrating, but unforgettable period of my life. I wouldn’t do it again, but I’m happy I worked there both for the memories it provided and – more so – for the opportunity to regularly stuff myself on the Fox Valley’s best pizza.
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