Monday, October 11, 2010
Thoughts on Soda
Come on people, lets use these interwebs for social upheaval and progressive reform! Lets bring about a revolution. A LOVE revolution. Let's talk about soda.
Let me first state that I love soda. I love the stuff. I know it's just carbonated water and corn syrup. I know that it's destroying my physical appearance each and every day. And I know that it will soon claim me and leave me to rest in an early grave. But I don't care. I love it. However, I do not love these constant attempts to pervert and destroy my bubbly mistress. Like he did with sex, Satan has taken something holy and turned it into something dirty, dangerous, soul crushing even, and here's how he's doing it.
BIG CUPS/SHORT STRAWS: It's something we've all experienced. You buy a soda at the theater. Your choices are LARGE, BUCKET and TROUGH. You take your straw, you plunge it through the skin of the plastic lid and into the tingling life-blood inside. You drink for a bit, the amount gets lower, you push the straw down, you drink, the amount gets lower, you push the straw down, you drink, the amount gets lower, YOU PUSH THE STRAW DOWN. The straw is no longer in the lid at all, but instead it's disappeared in the canyon you have sitting between your legs, cooling your inner thighs (because no theater cups ever fit into their puny cup holders). A question arises....HOW FUCKING HARD IS IT TO PURCHASE SLIGHTLY LONGER STRAWS? I'd rather not have to raspberry the lid of my soda in public, or worse yet, look like some perv suckling at some plastic tit. And everyone knows you don't lift the lid and sip at the stuff like some fucking yuppie. Aw hell naw, you don't; not if you want pussy that night.
WATERED DOWN SODA/TOO MUCH ICE: These are actually two separate problems but they are both tantamount to a greater evil: Greed. Look you bastards, we're already paying extra for your fountain drinks. For every dollar fifty we spend you spend probably 4 cents. Not a bad racket. And yet you greedy fucks still have to squeeze and squeeze just to save another cent or two, fucking over the poor son of a bitch that just wants to drink a nice cup of caramel colored sugar water. When I go to a place with fountain drinks, I expect TOO MUCH syrup. If you guys had any sense of history, you'd know there were once places known as soda fountains, where "pop" was the backbone of the establishment. How was this so when some jackass could just go to the corner store and pick up a bottle of Coca Cola ® for half the price and twice the drink? Because those irresponsible fountain owners would load those drinks up with so much goddamn syrup you had a good chance of contracting diabetes just by smelling the fucking place. Who knows how many kids had to have their feet sawed off later in life because of those white wonderlands of brown water? Even a heartless juggernaut like RC ® wasn't cold enough to endorse such flagrant disregard for the public's health and everyone loved the fountain owners for it. And yet you've taken the opposite approach. "Water it all down! No one will notice!" Well I noticed, bud, and I'm taking down your name. Yes, I have a blackbook of fast food establishments I will not buy soda from, because of their watered down product. For example, the Del Taco on Newport? Awful soda. The McDonalds on Florida next to Girard? Excellent soda. Who do you think gets my dollar fifty? You're damn right.
And now for the loading up of ice. Oh, it's a nice trick, motherfuckers. Put so much goddamn ice that no matter what size drink you pay for, you'll still get the same amount. Like this is some cosmic joke played by the gods. Well, I spit in the cloudy moon eyes of all of the gods! Some ask for "easy ice" like some fag. Well not me. I order no ice. And in case it gets warm, I order a separate cup of ice (at no extra charge) so I can put in those frosty cubes at my own discretion. I wouldn't trust some illiterate off-the-boat fast food worker with my children, I for damn sure ain't gonna trust them with my ice rationing.
COMPANY WHORES: It's happened to everyone. You're at a sit down restaurant, you order a Coke ® (no one says 'cola' anymore, it's one of those useless old timey words like 'abstinence'). The waitress stares at you like you're an idiot. "Is Pepsi ®, okay?" Or you order a Sprite ®. "Sierra Mist ®, fine?" Whoah! I'm so fucking sorry I didn't read up on the fact that your employer was affiliated with PepsiCo ® and all of its subsidiaries and products!
But I don't blame the waitress, or the heartless restaurant mafia that forces her to clarify such tripe. I blame these fucking company whores who swear allegiance to a soda manufacturer (a soda manufacturer!) as if it were a political party or an organized religion. We've all seen these pieces of shit.
"You got anything to drink?"
"Yeah, Coke ®"
"Eeeeww!!! COOOOKE ®!!! Gag!!! I only drink Pepsi ® brand cola products."
What the fuck? As if your taste buds are so evolved that you could not only tell some kind of minute difference between the two, but that this next step on the human scale was such a leap that it would actually make one of the products not only inferior, but gross! Are you fucking kidding me! This ain't goddamn wine tasting. There's a simple rule in soda making: He with the most sugar wins. I'm sorry if the caramel color fooled you into thinking you were drinking some kind of gourmet product. "Ooh, I can really taste the kola nut extract in this one!" "Aw, the phosphoric acid and glycerin dominate this batch of angel tears." I mean, god, it's just soda. Get a fucking grip!
And really friends, in the end, it is just soda. But it makes everything that much sweeter and should be cared for like a delicate infant, not given over to the wolves of incompetence, greed, and zealotry. Keep it simple. Keep it pure.
Let me first state that I love soda. I love the stuff. I know it's just carbonated water and corn syrup. I know that it's destroying my physical appearance each and every day. And I know that it will soon claim me and leave me to rest in an early grave. But I don't care. I love it. However, I do not love these constant attempts to pervert and destroy my bubbly mistress. Like he did with sex, Satan has taken something holy and turned it into something dirty, dangerous, soul crushing even, and here's how he's doing it.
BIG CUPS/SHORT STRAWS: It's something we've all experienced. You buy a soda at the theater. Your choices are LARGE, BUCKET and TROUGH. You take your straw, you plunge it through the skin of the plastic lid and into the tingling life-blood inside. You drink for a bit, the amount gets lower, you push the straw down, you drink, the amount gets lower, you push the straw down, you drink, the amount gets lower, YOU PUSH THE STRAW DOWN. The straw is no longer in the lid at all, but instead it's disappeared in the canyon you have sitting between your legs, cooling your inner thighs (because no theater cups ever fit into their puny cup holders). A question arises....HOW FUCKING HARD IS IT TO PURCHASE SLIGHTLY LONGER STRAWS? I'd rather not have to raspberry the lid of my soda in public, or worse yet, look like some perv suckling at some plastic tit. And everyone knows you don't lift the lid and sip at the stuff like some fucking yuppie. Aw hell naw, you don't; not if you want pussy that night.
WATERED DOWN SODA/TOO MUCH ICE: These are actually two separate problems but they are both tantamount to a greater evil: Greed. Look you bastards, we're already paying extra for your fountain drinks. For every dollar fifty we spend you spend probably 4 cents. Not a bad racket. And yet you greedy fucks still have to squeeze and squeeze just to save another cent or two, fucking over the poor son of a bitch that just wants to drink a nice cup of caramel colored sugar water. When I go to a place with fountain drinks, I expect TOO MUCH syrup. If you guys had any sense of history, you'd know there were once places known as soda fountains, where "pop" was the backbone of the establishment. How was this so when some jackass could just go to the corner store and pick up a bottle of Coca Cola ® for half the price and twice the drink? Because those irresponsible fountain owners would load those drinks up with so much goddamn syrup you had a good chance of contracting diabetes just by smelling the fucking place. Who knows how many kids had to have their feet sawed off later in life because of those white wonderlands of brown water? Even a heartless juggernaut like RC ® wasn't cold enough to endorse such flagrant disregard for the public's health and everyone loved the fountain owners for it. And yet you've taken the opposite approach. "Water it all down! No one will notice!" Well I noticed, bud, and I'm taking down your name. Yes, I have a blackbook of fast food establishments I will not buy soda from, because of their watered down product. For example, the Del Taco on Newport? Awful soda. The McDonalds on Florida next to Girard? Excellent soda. Who do you think gets my dollar fifty? You're damn right.
And now for the loading up of ice. Oh, it's a nice trick, motherfuckers. Put so much goddamn ice that no matter what size drink you pay for, you'll still get the same amount. Like this is some cosmic joke played by the gods. Well, I spit in the cloudy moon eyes of all of the gods! Some ask for "easy ice" like some fag. Well not me. I order no ice. And in case it gets warm, I order a separate cup of ice (at no extra charge) so I can put in those frosty cubes at my own discretion. I wouldn't trust some illiterate off-the-boat fast food worker with my children, I for damn sure ain't gonna trust them with my ice rationing.
COMPANY WHORES: It's happened to everyone. You're at a sit down restaurant, you order a Coke ® (no one says 'cola' anymore, it's one of those useless old timey words like 'abstinence'). The waitress stares at you like you're an idiot. "Is Pepsi ®, okay?" Or you order a Sprite ®. "Sierra Mist ®, fine?" Whoah! I'm so fucking sorry I didn't read up on the fact that your employer was affiliated with PepsiCo ® and all of its subsidiaries and products!
But I don't blame the waitress, or the heartless restaurant mafia that forces her to clarify such tripe. I blame these fucking company whores who swear allegiance to a soda manufacturer (a soda manufacturer!) as if it were a political party or an organized religion. We've all seen these pieces of shit.
"You got anything to drink?"
"Yeah, Coke ®"
"Eeeeww!!! COOOOKE ®!!! Gag!!! I only drink Pepsi ® brand cola products."
What the fuck? As if your taste buds are so evolved that you could not only tell some kind of minute difference between the two, but that this next step on the human scale was such a leap that it would actually make one of the products not only inferior, but gross! Are you fucking kidding me! This ain't goddamn wine tasting. There's a simple rule in soda making: He with the most sugar wins. I'm sorry if the caramel color fooled you into thinking you were drinking some kind of gourmet product. "Ooh, I can really taste the kola nut extract in this one!" "Aw, the phosphoric acid and glycerin dominate this batch of angel tears." I mean, god, it's just soda. Get a fucking grip!
And really friends, in the end, it is just soda. But it makes everything that much sweeter and should be cared for like a delicate infant, not given over to the wolves of incompetence, greed, and zealotry. Keep it simple. Keep it pure.
Thoughts on McDonalds
Thoughts on McDonalds.
McNuggets are inherently superior to 'Chicken Selects.' It's not fucking gourmet cuisine. The reason I went to McDonalds is because I have no selective reasoning. I know its processed meats pounded together. Processed with love and pounded with flavor.
The 'Poor Man's Big Mac' (i.e. the 99 cent double cheeseburger with thousand island dressing) is not a sufficient substitute for the real thing. It's not the sauce, or the meat, or the lettuce that makes a Big Mac. It's the balance of all of these things, plus a kick-ass middle bun. No middle bun, no dice.
This Monopoly game is pissing me off. Baltic Avenue? What the fuck's that? Just tell me I lost in plain English.
The Nurtrition Facts are just visual clutter on the simple crimson of a fry box or the periwinkle blue of a Filet o Fish wrapper. I already know I'm killing myself, I don't need to know the amount of calories that will finally send me over the edge and into that Playplace in the Sky. You might as well send reminders to people with terminal diseases on how many days they have left. You bastards.
I'm sick of these bags with benday dot, Lichtenstein people from other countries riding bikes and shit while saying a variation of "I'm lovin' it" in their country's native language. Enjoy the yak lentil soup from your own impoverished nation. Stay out of my American® McDonalds.
Get a new tagline! "I'm lovin' it?" What the hell. Whatever happened to "Do you believe in magic?" or "Food, folks and fun?" Whatever happened to your class? McDonalds, I'm talking to you. "I'm lovin' it?" I most certainly am not.
There's a 99 cent Spicy McChicken in Las Vegas. In one fell swoop, McDonalds not only tops the 99 cent Spicy Chicken Sandwich of Carls Jr. but manages to top its own regular 99 cent McChicken in order to collect the title of Best 99 cent Chicken Sandwich on the Market (Regular or Spicy)®. Good work Las Vegas McDonalds.
Bring back the danger and richness to your franchise characters. There used to be a Tolkein-esque mythology to the fantasy world we all call McDonaldland. There were pirates (Captain Crook), lawmen (Constable Big Mac), criminals (the original bad-ass mustache-twirling Hamburglar, not this Noid knock-off), political intrigue (Mayor McCheese), monsters (the original Grimace, who had multiple sets of arms and ruined milkshakes) and a longing for what was beyond the cosmos on par with the best work of Carl Sagan and Arthur C. Clarke (MacTonight, the moon-faced hipster who drove around outer space in a red Cadillac convertible). Bring back the depth to Ronald McDonald, that Scottish warrior-poet who masked his doomed interspecies love for Birdie behind an artificial smile. Bring back the magic and nuance to McDonaldland.
Remove all of the hard, crunchy 'potato-ass' pieces from the french fries. I want my fries limp and soggy!
Stop hiring people with skin rashes and acne spattered faces. I don't want to be served by some guy with ulcers eating off the flesh of his nose, and one over-sized eyeball covered in a white film that drips milky tears. I don't need this shit.
Stop watering down your soft drinks and bring back the 69 cent 64 oz sodas!
Thank you and good luck.
McNuggets are inherently superior to 'Chicken Selects.' It's not fucking gourmet cuisine. The reason I went to McDonalds is because I have no selective reasoning. I know its processed meats pounded together. Processed with love and pounded with flavor.
The 'Poor Man's Big Mac' (i.e. the 99 cent double cheeseburger with thousand island dressing) is not a sufficient substitute for the real thing. It's not the sauce, or the meat, or the lettuce that makes a Big Mac. It's the balance of all of these things, plus a kick-ass middle bun. No middle bun, no dice.
This Monopoly game is pissing me off. Baltic Avenue? What the fuck's that? Just tell me I lost in plain English.
The Nurtrition Facts are just visual clutter on the simple crimson of a fry box or the periwinkle blue of a Filet o Fish wrapper. I already know I'm killing myself, I don't need to know the amount of calories that will finally send me over the edge and into that Playplace in the Sky. You might as well send reminders to people with terminal diseases on how many days they have left. You bastards.
I'm sick of these bags with benday dot, Lichtenstein people from other countries riding bikes and shit while saying a variation of "I'm lovin' it" in their country's native language. Enjoy the yak lentil soup from your own impoverished nation. Stay out of my American® McDonalds.
Get a new tagline! "I'm lovin' it?" What the hell. Whatever happened to "Do you believe in magic?" or "Food, folks and fun?" Whatever happened to your class? McDonalds, I'm talking to you. "I'm lovin' it?" I most certainly am not.
There's a 99 cent Spicy McChicken in Las Vegas. In one fell swoop, McDonalds not only tops the 99 cent Spicy Chicken Sandwich of Carls Jr. but manages to top its own regular 99 cent McChicken in order to collect the title of Best 99 cent Chicken Sandwich on the Market (Regular or Spicy)®. Good work Las Vegas McDonalds.
Bring back the danger and richness to your franchise characters. There used to be a Tolkein-esque mythology to the fantasy world we all call McDonaldland. There were pirates (Captain Crook), lawmen (Constable Big Mac), criminals (the original bad-ass mustache-twirling Hamburglar, not this Noid knock-off), political intrigue (Mayor McCheese), monsters (the original Grimace, who had multiple sets of arms and ruined milkshakes) and a longing for what was beyond the cosmos on par with the best work of Carl Sagan and Arthur C. Clarke (MacTonight, the moon-faced hipster who drove around outer space in a red Cadillac convertible). Bring back the depth to Ronald McDonald, that Scottish warrior-poet who masked his doomed interspecies love for Birdie behind an artificial smile. Bring back the magic and nuance to McDonaldland.
Remove all of the hard, crunchy 'potato-ass' pieces from the french fries. I want my fries limp and soggy!
Stop hiring people with skin rashes and acne spattered faces. I don't want to be served by some guy with ulcers eating off the flesh of his nose, and one over-sized eyeball covered in a white film that drips milky tears. I don't need this shit.
Stop watering down your soft drinks and bring back the 69 cent 64 oz sodas!
Thank you and good luck.
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