Monday, May 30, 2011

fire ronald mcdonald

Did you know that there is a petition for McDonald's to fire Ronald McDonald?

"More than 550 health professionals and organizations have signed a letter to McDonald's Corp. asking the maker of Happy Meals to stop marketing junk food to kids and retire Ronald McDonald."

They go on:

"The letter, slated to run in the form of full-page ads in six metropolitan newspapers around the country on Wednesday, acknowledges that "the contributors to today's (health) epidemic are manifold and a broad societal response is required. But marketing can no longer be ignored as a significant part of this massive problem."

And I bet you'll never guess who is to blame for parents letting their kids eat a churched up version of deep fried dog shit.

Take a guess - hint: (not the parents). That's right, marketing is to blame. Corporations are to blame. Everybody but the one not doing the fucking up is to blame.

It's not your fault for setting the fine example of living a sedentary lifestyle, as a parent. It's not your fault for letting your kids sit inside and play video games all day.

Listen, I hate kids, and I hate most people, but this is crazy.

Christ, I remember when I was a kid, my mom didn't even have to chase us out of the house to get exercise. Yeah, we played video games. But that was usually only when it was really rainy, or somebody got hurt playing TACKLE FOOTBALL. Or when we had a sweet rent two vids for the price of one coupon.

So you played tackle football with the neighborhood kids, you're a pussy; you probably just played all-time quarterback and stood there like a jerk.

Nah, not the case, tubbs.

It was in your best interest to run your ass off because if you didn't, you'd get tackled into the mailbox post that served as one of the goal lines, tackled up against the side of the house, tackled into the street (concussion time) or laid the ferk out by a skinny as shit ten year old HYM. Haha yeah, there was a time when I wasn't a CRUSHING 200 lbs what's up.

Oh you don't feel like playing football or baseball with the rest of us? That's cool, you'll just have 10 neighborhood kids calling you a pussy for the next 3 hours. Oh you're playing now? Great, now we have even teams.

Then we'd go to my Dad's house and spend 90% of the time outside playing basketball, baseball in the backyard, hunting, fishing and backbreaking labor in twelve hour blocks.

Nowadays, in the summer, I look outside and there are no kids dodging cars on their bikes, no kids playing baseball in the driveway and hitting home runs into neighbors' windows. Never do I hear the neighborhood grouchlady yelling from her front porch to 'GET THE FUCK OFF MY PROPERTY OR I'LL CALL THE COPS!"

None of that. All I hear is the click clack of my keyboard as I office my way to a slow, depressing suicide. But that's beside the point.

Starting with parents not being responsible for feeding their children, we're gonna slide all the way on down this slippery little slope here and get X-TREME! Are they responsible for not feeding them, like neglect? What about spanking, punishment and child abuse? Guess not, bros.

Sliding down past parental duties - what about when a child molester strikes? Is it some unnamed power (evil corporation) that put the child in harm's way in the first place? Maybe it's a clever ad campaign. Are you protected by the kid molester's union? Well are you?

We're gaining speed on this UBER-LUBER'cated slope, friends. Stab someone in the eye with a screwdriver? Blame Sears and Craftsman for marketing their sweet screwdrivers.

Torture somebody to a gory, bloody death? Blame the Saw movie franchise for making you think that torturing people is cool.

All I'm asking for is a little sanity here. I thought Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert restored that back in September.

If it were me, I'd take out an ad and address all of the overweight, dickhead parents out there; here's what it might look like:
















One last thing, let me just put this out there: if anybody tries to take away Dairy Queen, Culver's or Toppers, I will fucking **** you. I know I rarely eat at any of those places, but when I'm looking to treat myself after a long week of blasting chicks/zombies/dukes, or if I'm on a road trip, one of those three establishments nourishes not just my body, but my soul.

Last thing: I hate you so much.

1 comment:

Susan said...

Amen!