More Cheese

Here’s the thing about cheeseburgers … it’s not that I don’t really like them…. I mean they taste great and are fun to eat. OK! They’re fun. They are like a drug. With fries and all that other shit. They are entertaining in the way that catsup tastes good on everything when you are a kid. It’s not a highbrow/lowbrow thing either. I am sure that I can really let stupid associative things ruin something for me, forever even. For instance, I know this fat gut guy who eats a cheeseburger every damn day for lunch and is pathetically proud about it, even though it’s visibly and invisibly, mentally and audibly killing him. He’s one of those entitlement complex-ed people that never leaves his pudgy padded comfort zone …out of fear .. and a lack of curiosity about the world around him. And Christ, maybe they won't have cheeseburgers in another country. And even if they do, they might use REAL smelly cheese instead of fake Kraft singles. Like everyone should come to him and worship in his little back water enclave, somewhere in the forgotten zone of a dying empire. A McEmpire that puts a cheeseburger in the hands of every child in every formerly culinarily unique country in the world. And, he’s a ditto head who loves Buffett…what a surprise. Like Curious George’s dull-witted, bloated, evil twin monkey from a parallel, even meaner universe. A universe set to Skynnyrd tunes as sung by American Idol winners, where Sarah Palin butts her way into a room full of Nascar frenzied Bud swilling red meat heads and, with a wink that makes you want to lash out severely, asks …"I betcha you guys could use some cheeseburgers about now, couldn’t cha?” And they and their guts bow down…. to the cheese and to the beef. It’s their God given duty to pray for more cheese.




Mr. Mustard