Americans Boycott France, Coherent Thought

triking a blow for bandwagoneers everywhere, Rep. Bob Ney (R-Ohio) recently directed the House of Representatives cafeteria to change the name of “french fries� to “freedom fries� on their menu, teaching the rogue nation of France a powerful lesson once and for all. Restaurants across the country have followed suit, and Americans everywhere are boycotting French and French-sounding products in a bold move that sends a message to the rest of the world: Americans are fucking retarded.

“The French? A bunch of gay-asses,� opined truck stop chef Holman Weathers. “This is how they repay us for bailing them out in WWII, by having their own opinion? Maybe we should’ve just let the damned Germans win. See how they like that. No way the fuckin’ Germans would have wimped out on us on the whole Iraq thing.�

“Wait. Really? The Germans?� Weathers questioned with a note of disappointment in his voice when this reporter pointed out that even the Germans had gone the gay-assed route on this one.

“I’m glad they changed the name of Fren- these things, since I love fries but I always felt a little weird supporting such a bad country by buying food named after them,� confessed housewife Heidi Wartak as she sat munching a fresh batch of freedom fries in her mammoth Ford Excursion SUV, while the vehicle idled and sucked down enough gas to keep the Iraqi Republican Guard in munitions for a month. Asked if she thought supporting Middle East dictatorships through excessive fuel consumption might be a greater evil than uttering the name of a peace-loving ally, Wartak stood her ground. “I don’t buy french bread either. I mean freedom bread.�

“All I know is I’ve drank my last bottle of Evian,� boasted NASCAR enthusiast Glen Riddle. “That’s French, right? Somebody told me they actually bottle that stuff out in L.A., but I don’t know if that’s true. Come to think of it, I don’t like L.A. either, so I guess it doesn’t matter.�

Riddle later admitted that he’d never actually drank Evian, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to start now.

Dissenting opinions are rare, as anyone caught exhibiting coherent thought in the current national climate is in grave danger of being branded unpatriotic and voted off the island, i.e., hit with a brick.

“The French provided significant military help to the Americans in their campaign against the British in the Revolutionary War, and supplies of French gunpowder are widely believed to have secured the decisive American victory at Saratoga in 1777,� informed University of Wisconsin history professor and Denny’s patron Judd McClintock as he ducked under a flying brick. “If it weren’t for the French we’d be British right now, and for that even the biggest France-basher owes them continual blowjobs forever.�

“If those blue, white and red pinkos want to mess with the U.S., all they need to do is listen to our country music to know we won’t stand for it,� warned part-time window washer Steve Lideen from across the restaurant, in response to a waitress offering French dressing as an option for his salad.

Plans remain in the works for a series of public service announcements suggesting teens partake in “face-fucking� rather than French kissing and that anyone who is unable to boycott the upcoming Tour de France should refer to it as “That Big Gay Bicycle Ride� or else face sanctions, including having their Home Depot membership revoked.

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OH MY GOD SNOW

In your travels, should you find
some oddball children, pay no mind.
But if you do, and you have learned
that they love candy recently turned,
it behooves you to flee at once.
And don't come back
that way for months.
For you have wandered
to a land forgotten,
where the children like
their candy rotten.
And this might not sound so terribly bad,
perhaps only slightly, or only a tad.
But I assure you, once I've filled you in,
you too will avoid these rotten children!

Avoid like the plague or like measles or beets.
Avoid them like odd-colored stains on your sheets.
Avoid them like murder and dandruff and stink.
Avoid them like things moving under the sink.
For this is the behavior I would strongly advise
unless you'd like a sandwich of mustard and lies.
You think I'm kidding? You think this is a joke?
Brother, I'm as serious as a mouthful of New Coke!

Their loyalty's shifty, their morals are loose.
They'd eat the heart out of a chocolate moose.
Their bedtime is no time their naptime is "GO!" time,
And they have never once heard of "The Answer Is No!" time.
They wipe their hands everywhere and belch like fat chickens
and after they're done, the buffet is slim pickins.
They'll throw a wild tantrum just to pass an afternoon
and then hide your car keys on the back of the moon.
They're nasty, dastardly, pompous and rude.
Oh, did I mention they're sick of Thai food?

Their rotten teeth are made to slide
out moldy, curdled, rotten lies.
They insist its gospel, but otherwise
is seen deep within their rotten black eyes.
They cheat at hopscotch, they cheat at darts,
they have no love for culture or arts.
They're dirty, nasty, selfish and mean.
They'd sell their own mothers for a black jelly bean.
They don't do lemonade stands and they don't mow lawns.
They'll ransack your rec room for something to pawn.
They'll name a dog kitty and they'll name a cat Rover
and they'll watch Disney videos over and over
until you scream "That's it! Enough! I am quitting!
This is the last time I agree to babysitting!"

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Here's the facts, folks: I did not, nor have I ever tried the Waffle Messiah.

Any implication that I did try the Waffle Messiah, or in any way endorsed the Waffle Messiah or purchase of that kitchen appliance, was unintended.

I did not at any time mean to encourage that someone should actually purchase the Waffle Messiah or that it would be a welcome addition to any kitchen. When I made the statement during the infomercial that "it would make a welcome addition to any kitchen," I was, in fact, referring to a Mr. Coffee machine though I had made no previous reference to it. The fact that I was standing in close proximity to the Waffle Messiah and gesturing in what some could consider to be the direction of the Waffle Messiah that lay on the counter in front of me was purely accidental. Just a bad camera angle as I was actually gesturing in the direction of the restrooms off-camera, where I was planning to go once the taping of the infomercial was done.

The following statements I did say were intended to refer to the Waffle Messiah:

"It cooks so fast!"
"How much is that thing?"
"You can't get a waffle iron for less."
"Does that mean it's healthier?"
"And we'll tell you how to get one by calling this number."
"It's white!"
"Classic design."

The following statements may have been misconstrued to refer to the Waffle Messiah when in fact they were referring to Mr. Coffee, my co-host of the program Brad Winchell, or something I was thinking about in my mind:

"Makes 'em delicious!"
"I'm convinced!"
"Grease-free cooking!"
"And it's 100% safe!"
"I'd buy one!"
"I love it, Brad!"
"Sure makes you think."
"Classic design."
"Order one now."

I do not claim complete innocence in the recent Waffle Messiah fiasco. In fact, I allowed the production and multiple airings of an infomercial that intentionally misled the viewer to believe I, Clarissa Coleman, beloved celebrity and former star of Who's Your Daddy?, in some way supported or encouraged the buying of the dangerous Waffle Messiah product. My heart goes out to all those kids in the burn ward and I pray, metaphorically, for their quick recovery.

In the meantime I encourage anyone feeling down about the whole thing to go out there and pick up Time-Life's 70's Groove-A-Funk Collection featuring all your favorite hits, though I should clarify that when I say "all your favorite hits," I in fact have no way of knowing what your favorite hits are and the phrase refers to generally favored songs of the 70's era.

Caveat emptor.

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