Friday, April 16, 2010

37 things worse than a KFC meatwich

Friday Morford. But first...

Opinions You Should Have

The "Double Down" -- named, appropriately, for a gambling procedure in which one dramatically takes on twice as much risk -- is a "sandwich" where the slices of bread have been replaced by two chicken cutlets, between which are pillowed slices of tasty American cheese, crispy bacon, and zesty but strangely yellow mayonnaise.

"It is to die for," said one food critic. "I'm not kidding." He immediately collapsed and was carried away.

And now to the, er, meat of this post:

But it got me thinking, aside from the food porn on, well, just what are those things that are worse for you than KFC's fistful of karmic hate? What else can you shove into your body, your brain, your very anima itself, if you really despise yourself, stopped caring long ago and just want to curl up and die in a corner somewhere? Shall we list a few? Let's.

1) Tea Party Rally. Recently did I stumble, like stepping on a rusty nail, across a surreal clip of Sarah "Queen of Duh" (Don't miss! - G) Palin rallying the "troops" at a Tea Party Express stop somewhere in Gunlick, Kentuckansasiana, and I found my mind suddenly blasted clean by the giant pile of dumb I was witnessing, unable to pinpoint exactly what it was that this circus sideshow reminded me of.

Then I had it. Remember that bizarre, 30-second acid trip of a scene in "The Wizard of Oz," the moment just before a very stoned Dorothy skips away to hook up with her crazy gay pals and traipse through a giant Pink Floyd album, the moment when those three adult dwarves stumble out of the Munchkinland horde wearing little kid outfits, and sing their little surly song, replete with surly, out-of-sync-leg spasms? Yes, the Palin-led Tea Party rally reminded me of the Lollipop Guild, serenading Dorothy. Perfect.

5) The Catholic Church. Sure sure, the Double Down will enrage your colon, toxify your blood, disfigure your heart, greasify your skin, shrivel your genitalia, and dumb you down to the level of slug shoelace. But that's nothing compared to 2,000 years of abuse, lies, oppression, lack of sunshine and dead, leathery skin that accompanies handing over your soul to the sinister clan of old men who run the Vatican. As for the pope, well, it would appear the "holiest" man in the Christian empire cares more about PR than child rape. You know, just like Jesus wanted.

Jesus apparently wanted you to hate your fellow man if he disagrees with you and to carry firearms as compensation for what His Dad didn't give you.

6) "Jersey Shore," cast of. Word has it there's a new spinoff show in the works to augment this oily smear of cultural insect repellent, called "Wicked Summer" (or "Wikkid Summah" for those in the dialect) documenting -- can you guess? -- the awful hair, insane sports obsessions and big dumb babes of blue collar lugnuts from Boston.

The show's tagline, "Five minutes with these walking billboards for 'No Child Left Behind' makes you feel like a genius for being able to work a goddamn can opener" is still, apparently, being honed. Can't wait.

Nice picture of Snooki And The Guidettes at the link. As long as they don't talk...

7) Republicanism. [...]

Of course, the party of Lincoln has devolved into a shrill, shrieking puddle of Glenn Beck's crocodile tears, Rush Limbaugh racists and surly white men who hate the fact that you might have decent access to health care, can marry someone you love, and don't hate everything and everyone not inbred near a Texas football stadium. Want to ensure your kids grow up scared, angry, well armed, heavily medicated and confused about everything? Raise them Republican. Oh, and spank the hell out of them.

8-37) And finally,...


No comments: