Depending on where you live, the McRib is always back, coming back or going away — it’s on its fifth tour of duty in the drive-thru. We’ll never see the last of it. It’d be easier to get rid of a time-share condo in Florida.

Here’s the blueprint: a processed, boneless pork patty, chopped onions, pickles and barbecue sauce on a 6-inch hoagie bun.

Total calories: 490. Fat grams: 25. Dietary fiber: 2 grams. Carbs: 44 grams. Manufacturer’s suggested retail price: $2.69 for the sandwich, $5.59 for the combo with fries and soft drink.

The patty is comprised of processed, torn-asunder pork that is shaped to resemble a mini-slab of baby-back ribs, complete with raised “bones.” Ah, food that looks like what it used to look like.

Wow, even on the McRib’s fifth go-round, I’m still amazed by this concept. It’s sort of the same principle as dog biscuits, only the McRib is tricking humans.

The McRib is McDonald’s most popular — by far — limited-time-only special sandwich. Ironically, the McRib was a dud when it debuted in 1982 as a permanent menu item. Sales were so lackluster that it was removed from the menu in short order.

But when McDonald’s brought the McRib back for “a limited time only,” and fans gave it a second and third try, it became a hit. The same thing happened with “M*A*S*H,” “Seinfeld,” “Cheers” and “The Office.” Now those shows are in constant reruns, too.

The McRib patty is pre-cooked and shipped frozen to your local McDonald’s, where it’s heated up and plunked in tangy barbecue sauce. There’s no secret sauce or elaborate toppings — just two pickles and a quarter-ounce of chopped onions. The bun is different, a 6-inch dusted hoagie bun.

McRibs are so popular that McDonald’s claims to buy 250 million pounds of pork each year. So popular that McDonald’s temporarily stops hawking its Third Pound Angus Burgers to trumpet the McRib’s return on its sign. So popular that there’s a “McRib Locator” website (www.kleincast.com/maps/mcrib.php) to help dedicated and desperate McRib freaks find out where they’re being sold, where they’re headed and where they’re leaving at any given time.

Bottom line: Are they worth the craziness? I mean, McRibs are about as natural as McDolly Partons. Chicken McNuggets look at the McRib and sneer, “Hey, we’re made with particleboard bits and pieces, too, but we’re not shaped like the San Diego Chicken.”

So, yeah, the McRibs are big, phony, fake slabs of baby backs — but you know something? They taste pretty darn good — for real.

You are what you eat — porky. Same principle as dog biscuits.