Fattys Must Pay

Put down your Egg McMuffin’s and tune in, this ones for you fattys. In America, we have a great system of freedom and punishment. You are free to do what you want as long as you are willing to take on the punishment of your actions. Smokers can smoke (At least for the next couple years), drinkers can drink (Irish unite), and fattys can stuff their piehole’s with, well, pies.

We have a severe problem in America with healthcare. You see if you don’t work, don’t make any money, and suckle on the tit of Uncle Sam (Dude has huge areolas by the way), you can’t get healthcare insurance. At least that’s my take on it. I notice that smokers pay higher premiums than non-smokers. This makes sense since they will be dying soon by slipping in a puddle of their own phlegm and choking on their own lung lymphoma. But why don’t we make fattys pay more for insurance. This is pretty easy. No tests to take, no mouth swabs, just use your peepers. If the patient has 3 chins, gets winded getting up on the exam table, or tries to eat the tongue depressors, then they are red stamped on their chart and maybe their forehead for good measure.

Why can’t we do this? Because we don’t want to offend the fattys of America. After all, they stimulate the economy with their insane insuppressible appetite for food and Lane Bryant sales.

Cracker Monkey

At what point did we become completely inept at discerning reality? I am writing this while eating one of my favorite snacks, Animal Crackers. So I look at the bag and notice numerous omissions and downright mis-truths. This is bothersome because I do not like to be lied to, especially by a monkey hanging from the “S” in “Crackers”. Let’s start right there, shall we? These are NOT “Crackers”. These are cookies. Anyone who thinks crackers have nonfat milk in them should be forced to eat Ritz crackers in a cereal bowl for breakfast. But “Cracker” sounds so much more healthy (If not a bit racist) than cookie.

Now the previously mentioned monkey is holding a balloon that says “Low Fat”. Really? So you’re telling me these “Crackers” are actually good for me? Sweet….err I mean salty, after all they are “Crackers”. Flip the bag over though and 1 serving gets you 10% of your daily carb count but no fat. Last and least are the warnings. When did Animal “Crackers” need a warning? Aren’t they about the most non-threatening snack ever made? Even the Lion looks like he parties with the kids. But since we have produced a mountain of mutant children (Thanks to our lack of Darwinism), we have to tell you that there are trace amounts of peanuts and tree nuts in these. I thought we established that these are “Crackers”? What “Crackers” have peanuts in them? I smell a conspiracy. I think Congress must subpoena the monkey and have him testify to the fact that these are not “Crackers” but in fact cookies.

Note – I consumed approximately 25 “Crackers” while writing this and have used up 25% of my daily carb intake. Fucking lying monkey!

Story For Today

Allow me to set the scene like a Shakespearian Maestro.....

Your humble narrator is walking down a downtown street in "Any City", USA and is approached by a fine, upstanding street citizen. Let's listen in.....

Citizen Dirt - "Do you have any change?"

{Narrator digs around in pocket and jingles numerous coins in his hand for effect}

Narrator - "Actually, yes I do"

{Narrator continues walking past Citizen Dirt}

The End

I Know How Lance Bass Feels

For once, the crazy butt cheek puckered liberals of America may be right. Hold your gasping breath gentle reader for I have said the ghastly simply to prove a point.

So here I am, finishing up the last leg of a truly great American pastime; Selling something on EBay. The process is so delectably simple. Post your ad, pay your fees, wait, wait, wait, sell item, print shipping label, box and mail the item. Ahh, that last one gets a little hairy. Since my box is just slightly heavier than 16oz drop weight, I have to take it to the local Post Office (I realize I could take it almost anywhere to drop it off but I am lucky enough to work across the street from the oldest Post Office in town. It’s quite quaint and charming, more on that in a second).

I stroll in to the light morning air and across the busy downtown street to the sight of many metaphorical killing jokes. Through the golden doors, which interestingly are automatic even though the doors must be 80 years old, and into the lobby where upon a metal detector has been installed. I am all for safety and hate terrorism just as much as the next patriot but this seems a little much. No bother, I empty my pockets and place my non-ticking box on the conveyor belt. Now gentle reader, I know you will be shocked to here that the detector went off, alerting everyone to my evil plot of mailing an inert package. After a brief wanding and a latex enema, I am on my way. America is safe. Of course I cannot just drop off my package. No, packages might contain 2 tons of manure and ammonium nitrate, so I get to wait in line for 10 minutes to tell the lady that I have removed all plastic explosives from the box before I taped it up.

Is this really necessary? Is a medium sized city’s Post Office really a target for anything other than nerdy stamp collectors? Do we really need this much protection? I for one emphatically say yes. Now excuse me while I pull that latex glove out of my ass.

Sorry About That

So that last post about a month ago not only wreaked of effort but it was also a month ago. I am working on a more consistent approach for my devout reader (Singular, please note that). So here goes.......