I’m Not Feeling You

So, if you missed it:

Retard 1 appeared in a “viral ad” (viral ads are ads that aren’t good enough for TV and so end up on the internet) for Dunkin’ Donuts.

Then, retard 2 (and a bunch of other hateful right wing bloggers) decided that the scarf the first retard is wearing looked like a keffiyeh (which is a traditional scarf men wear because scarves come in handy in the desert), and so wrote a letter asking Dunkin’ Donuts to pull the spot (which is impossible because it’s on the internet and how do you pull a spot that’s on the internet?) because they’re racist.

Then the retards at Dunkin’ Donuts caved and “pulled the spot”.

Then, these retards sent me a petition asking me to boycott Dunkin’ Donuts until they apologize for taking the ad off their homepage (by the way, their petition is all fucked up because it’s not a traditional Palestinian scarf, it’s a Bedouin scarf and men wear them all over the middle east, as well as parts of Asia, Europe and North Africa) .

Anyway, here’s the thing, I think anti-Arab sentiment in the US is an issue, but I will never boycott anyone for taking even the littlest piece of Rachel Ray-related media out of my sight, for whatever reason.

Also, there are 1000 good reasons to boycott Dunkin’ Donuts (#1: Childhood Obesity) and/or Rachel Ray (#1: She’s a retard), but the fact that they pulled some commercial that none of us should have to (or want to) watch anyway because it didn’t contain a keffiyeh is just never going to be one of them. There are things that are too insignificant to care about and this is one of them.

“Southern Style” means “For Fat People.” We all have to draw the line somewhere, and I’m going with fried chicken for breakfast

A) If the Chicago City Council was going to ban anything it should have been crack.

B) If you’ve ever spent any time with a duck, then you know that stuffing a pipe down its throat and feeding it until its liver explodes is about the nicest thing you’d like to do to it.

C) Fuck Vegans

The answer is C.

You know that freak who sits next to you at work, drinks 10 Red Bulls, and won’t stop telling you about Iron Man even though you’ve already seen it? Now he makes crunching sounds.

This just goes to prove my long-held suspicion that anything that has “gourmet”, “fancy”, or “ultimate” in the name isn’t any of those things.

Also, pictures of rare meat are always gross.