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KFC to Activists: Mmm... Fried Chicken! November 10, 2003 |
Louisville, KY Junior Bacon PETA activist Charlene Dunlop answers questions about the KFC boycott, backed by her daughter’s highly-disturbing refrigerator drawing fter coming under increased scrutiny in recent months for the inhumane treatment of the 736 million chickens they cannonball into American gullets every year, the fast food chain KFC made a sweeping public statement this week to address the concerns of consumers, animal rights activists, and the chickens themselves:
“Mmm… fried chicken!”
The statement, made in a low baritone and accompanied by a belly-rubbing gesture, has incensed PETA activists who have spent years working to change the chain’s practices. People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals representatives have accused KFC of buying from suppliers who practice inhumane methods of raising and slaughtering chickens, including using drugs to breed chickens to grotesque proportions which cripple the b...
fter coming under increased scrutiny in recent months for the inhumane treatment of the 736 million chickens they cannonball into American gullets every year, the fast food chain KFC made a sweeping public statement this week to address the concerns of consumers, animal rights activists, and the chickens themselves: “Mmm… fried chicken!” The statement, made in a low baritone and accompanied by a belly-rubbing gesture, has incensed PETA activists who have spent years working to change the chain’s practices. People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals representatives have accused KFC of buying from suppliers who practice inhumane methods of raising and slaughtering chickens, including using drugs to breed chickens to grotesque proportions which cripple the bird, housing chickens in cages too small for the birds to stand up, resulting in the chickens actually growing around the cage wire, and combating the resulting panicked violent chicken behavior by cutting off the birds’ beaks. PETA also contends that these suppliers finish the screwjob by scalding the birds to death in feather removal tanks, just in case they didn’t get the message that life is a brutal and heartless experience. Still, this latest statement represents a landmark for KFC, whose previous responses to activists had been even more insulting. “KFC uses only the highest quality ingredients,” answered KFC’s US spokeswoman Bonnie Warschauer in 1996, rubbing her tummy when asked if it might not be unreasonable for KFC to raise the prices of its meals by a penny to pay for humane improvements, which might keep the general public from having to hear really gross chicken stories from liberal arts majors all the time. In recent months, all-white-meat actress Pamela Anderson and noted extra-tasty-crispy comedian Russell Simmons have joined PETA in speaking out against the fast-food chain, a move that the group’s officials bemoan but have been powerless to block. “If people knew how KFC treats chickens, they’d never eat another drumstick,” stated Anderson, no stranger to questionable breast-meat. Drumstick-eaters interviewed the street disagreed with Anderson, arguing that they were pretty sure KFC kills the shit out of their chickens before frying their corpses is scalding oil, but still wanted to know if she was hot in person. KFC has also come under fire in recent weeks from health groups, who have taken offense at the chain’s commercials promoting KFC as a healthier alternative to other fast foods. The ads in question feature the animated “Colonel” character announcing, “Burgers give you ass cancer!” then rubbing his tummy and intoning sensually “Mmm… fried chicken!” KFC, a unit of Louisville-based Yum Brands Inc., has been struggling with slumping sales in recent years, and has sought to address both its fiscal and public relations woes with the introduction of the new “extra-tasty-crazy” fried chicken variety, based on the popular assumption that chickens driven mad by slaughterhouse conditions might likely have an especially zesty flavor. The fast food chain was previously known as Kentucky Fried Chicken, but changed its name in 1991 to distance its products from the negative connotations of fried foods, chickens, and the state of Kentucky. This latest obscene hand-gesture directed at animal rights groups by KFC is likely bad news for consumers, as PETA activists are already discussing the possibility of handing out buckets of mutilated chickens in front of KFC restaurants, unless they can think of something more disgustingly gut-wrenching on the way to the protest. the commune news didn’t see what all the animal-rights fuss was about until our dog Zipper was made into an order of “Collie-Poppers” during a family vacation to the Orient in 1982. Ramon Nootles is the commune’s least-sensitive reporter and won this assignment after being caught eating a piece of ham that had fallen behind the breakroom refrigerator on an undetermined date.
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American Idol Finale Results: America Loses Memorial Day Celebrated With More Memorials in Iraq Congress Lobbied for More Material to Complete Brando Memorial Impotent Landslide in China Kills Only Micro-Fraction of Glorious Population |
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 January 21, 2002
The Man in the Baloney SuitThere once was a man
in a baloney suit,
Who danced on the
street corner all day.
He'd dance a jig
when the mood struck him
And then repeat it
without much delay.
Oh what a sight, with all his might
He'd spring and he'd spritz all around.
And he'd make fantastical robot sounds
Whenever his feet touched the ground.
The children all loved to dance with him
As he'd twirl and he'd beep and he'd toot.
And they'd snack the day away merrily,
On the pieces that fell from his suit.
Oh what a lark, staying out 'til dark
Watching the baloney man dance.
As our parents, from windows watched carefully
To make sure that he stayed in his pants.
The neighborhood dogs loved baloney man,
Even more so than the kids.
They'd yip and they'd yap and their paws went rap-rap
On the street while they did what they did.
Oh how they schemed, in gray-toned dreams,
That suit would be theirs to eat.
But that spry dancing man was too fast for them,
And they just nipped at the soles of his feet.
I asked my father one afternoon
Where the man got his suit made of meat.
My father told me "Baloney's not meat,
What it is I'd rather not say.
Don't eat it, don't smell it, don't even try to spell it,
Don't use it to patch up your tire.
While you're at it, stay away from that baloney man.

º Last Column: Rosey Red-Ass º more columns
There once was a man
in a baloney suit,
Who danced on the
street corner all day.
He'd dance a jig
when the mood struck him
And then repeat it
without much delay.
Oh what a sight, with all his might
He'd spring and he'd spritz all around.
And he'd make fantastical robot sounds
Whenever his feet touched the ground.
The children all loved to dance with him
As he'd twirl and he'd beep and he'd toot.
And they'd snack the day away merrily,
On the pieces that fell from his suit.
Oh what a lark, staying out 'til dark
Watching the baloney man dance.
As our parents, from windows watched carefully
To make sure that he stayed in his pants.
The neighborhood dogs loved baloney man,
Even more so than the kids.
They'd yip and they'd yap and their paws went rap-rap
On the street while they did what they did.
Oh how they schemed, in gray-toned dreams,
That suit would be theirs to eat.
But that spry dancing man was too fast for them,
And they just nipped at the soles of his feet.
I asked my father one afternoon
Where the man got his suit made of meat.
My father told me "Baloney's not meat,
What it is I'd rather not say.
Don't eat it, don't smell it, don't even try to spell it,
Don't use it to patch up your tire.
While you're at it, stay away from that baloney man.
Of him, I'm beginning to tire."
From that day on I was cast aside,
No more joyous dancing for me.
I'd watch and weep from my windowsill,
While the other kids squealed with glee.
Oh what a way to spend your days,
But now I'm older and I don't even care.
All those kids grew up and got ass cancer,
And that baloney man was ate by a bear. º Last Column: Rosey Red-Assº more columns
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|  November 25, 2002
Star Wars as You Know it No Longer ExistsThere's not a day you log onto a popular internet site like Teen Beat Gossip or Gent All-Amateurs where you don't hear some random loser belly-aching about the fact George Lucas has yet to release Star Wars, the original good one and its immediate sequels, on DVD. In the hopes of keeping the internet running at a much slower, manageable rate, I will now answer this question so you can take that 15% internet traffic and use it for other purposes, like who would win the much-anticipated Kirk-Picard sword battle.
Star Wars is no more. Or, as you ĂĽber-nerds might need translated, Episode IV: A New Hope has been erased from all records.
The possibilities of this might confound you, as they easily confounded me, and occasionally still do when I approach the problem not expecting an ambush. I have a friend who is well-versed on time-travel and film history, and for the sake of this article let's call him Steven Hawking. Not the famous physicist in a wheelchair, though this informant is actually named Steven and has bad knees, but if it makes you feel more confident to confuse the two of them for the purpose of understanding this article, hey, I won't stop you.
"George Lucas has been famous for tampering with his Star Wars movies to keep them hip and popular for a younger generation, who is incapable of enjoying anything without computer-generated effects and poop jokes. Some examples are making the Death...
º Last Column: Perry Ellis' America º more columns
There's not a day you log onto a popular internet site like Teen Beat Gossip or Gent All-Amateurs where you don't hear some random loser belly-aching about the fact George Lucas has yet to release Star Wars, the original good one and its immediate sequels, on DVD. In the hopes of keeping the internet running at a much slower, manageable rate, I will now answer this question so you can take that 15% internet traffic and use it for other purposes, like who would win the much-anticipated Kirk-Picard sword battle. Star Wars is no more. Or, as you ĂĽber-nerds might need translated, Episode IV: A New Hope has been erased from all records. The possibilities of this might confound you, as they easily confounded me, and occasionally still do when I approach the problem not expecting an ambush. I have a friend who is well-versed on time-travel and film history, and for the sake of this article let's call him Steven Hawking. Not the famous physicist in a wheelchair, though this informant is actually named Steven and has bad knees, but if it makes you feel more confident to confuse the two of them for the purpose of understanding this article, hey, I won't stop you. "George Lucas has been famous for tampering with his Star Wars movies to keep them hip and popular for a younger generation, who is incapable of enjoying anything without computer-generated effects and poop jokes. Some examples are making the Death Star explosion in Episode IV even bigger, grander, with a big fat ring, and when Han Solo lands in the trash compactor and says, 'Christ, who dropped logs in here?' Fans of the original theatrical version have been tolerant, but generally unhappy with the changes. I agree even more so, because they have worked to undermine the fabric of the space-film continuum." Continued Hawking, helping himself to beer from my fridge without asking, "When Lucas changes anything in Episode IV, it invariably effects all episodes following. Remember the scene of the Wampa sitting up in Empire Strikes Back, or the 30-minute extended dancing green squid girl scenes from Return of the Jedi? Some people mistakenly chalk it up to Lucas going in and fiddling with his iMac in those films as well, but the truth is he has no idea how those got in there. I can safely say, though, being well-read on time-traveling books in the Quantum Leap Find-Your-Fate series, that the seemingly-harmless effects of adding Jawa monsters and stuff to Episode IV has irrevocably damaged the two following films. "Film, like time, has a tendency to mend itself. Though we may not see the apparent big deal in the changes in the computer-generated Episode IV, subtle motions were put in place that extended scenes and added footage to the other Star Wars films. "The logical jump from there, of course, is to imagine how much damage Episode I, somewhat hastily written and assembled with sentimentality overruling true humanity, has done to the films following. Just for an example as to how bad its altered the space-film continuum, the two-headed podrace alien's inclusion in the film somehow managed to change the rifles in E.T. into walkie-talkies. Spielberg was pissed about it, you bet, but you don't want to argue with a man who can make a prequel to your life that ends up undoing your existence. "In short, the Star Wars chain has been so badly broken in Episode I and Episode II the original films have 'fixed' themselves beyond recognition. Stormtroopers have been turned into Cylons, Wookiees evolved into Dan Haggertys, and Lando Calrissian has somehow been replaced with Eddie Griffin. To fix these films, if they can be fixed, will take until 2005 at the earliest, when Lucas has hinted he will re-release them at last. Until then, trust me—you don't want to watch a film where we watch Leonardo DiCaprio struggle to be a Jedi, only to find out Mike Tyson is his father." Thoughtful words, Steven. Terrifying, thoughtful words. Now pony up for the beer. º Last Column: Perry Ellis' Americaº more columns
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Milestones1979: A young Omar Bricks writes the first incarnation of what will eventually become his "My Friend Polio" column, originally titled "Why I Peed in the Water Fountain."Now HiringWeb Site Designer. Must have little to no professional experience, critical eye, delusions of grandeur, and think every current website sucks big ass compared to own Helmet fan page with FAQ. Starting pay of $90k to $250k, based on sheer swagger. Position will replace current asshole Neal, who should be finding out about this… just about… now. Top Fake Names Used for Fraudulent Repeat Voting| 1. | Reginald Bushsucks | | 2. | Jon Bon Jovi | | 3. | Sir Votesalot | | 4. | John Jacob Jesushammersshit | | 5. | Barack Obama | |
|   North Korea Pissed Their Real-Life Hunger Games Nowhere Near as Popular as Movie BY Bran Downey 11/1/2004 The Secrets of MichelangeloA ruggedly-handsome, sensitively masculine, manly-beautiful pseudo-archaeologist in his mid-30s, Professor Couth Banger walked right past the Italian police tape and into the Sistine Chapel. He had been here plenty of times, but he never failed to be awed by the roof painting. But he wasn’t here to admire art—he was here to admire the murder.
"You musta be Professor a-Banger," said a tall, thin detective. He had a thick mustache and no hair, like Mussolini, but spoke fluent English, except for a humiliating dialect. "There’s-a da dead man-a, right up-a there."
Banger directed his attention to a man, dead, swinging from a rope from the ceiling. The rope came right down through God’s navel. What a shame. That had been Banger’s favorite part of the...
A ruggedly-handsome, sensitively masculine, manly-beautiful pseudo-archaeologist in his mid-30s, Professor Couth Banger walked right past the Italian police tape and into the Sistine Chapel. He had been here plenty of times, but he never failed to be awed by the roof painting. But he wasn’t here to admire art—he was here to admire the murder.
"You musta be Professor a-Banger," said a tall, thin detective. He had a thick mustache and no hair, like Mussolini, but spoke fluent English, except for a humiliating dialect. "There’s-a da dead man-a, right up-a there."
Banger directed his attention to a man, dead, swinging from a rope from the ceiling. The rope came right down through God’s navel. What a shame. That had been Banger’s favorite part of the painting.
"Yeah, it’s nice, but is it art?" quipped Banger, with a self-satisfied smirk. Then, seriously, he asked a question. "I’m a little confused, Detective Typecastio. I’m an eminent researcher on gang signs and graffiti. Some would say, an expert on hidden meanings and secret in artwork. What does this have to do with me?"
"We-a found a disturbing note-a, with-a da body. Here." He passed the vital crime evidence to the stranger who had just walked into the room. "We appreciate-a you-a coming from America so fast. We have-a held da crime-a scene for-a three days now. It’s-a highly irregular, but-a what da hell. I’m-a up on racketeering charges next-a week anyway."
The note read: "Fuck you, Johnny. If you don’t want pizza, we’ll just the rest of us get one and you can fucking eat whatever you want."
Banger furrowed his sexy brow. "It’s a… code. Of some kind. You were right to call me. I think this note says more than it means. In fact, I think this entire murder fits well into my lifelong obsession with the art of Michelangelo." The professor studied the ceiling again, looking past the stiff dead man swinging like a hard-on in the wind.
Hours went by, and the cryptic message didn’t quite reveal itself. Then, suddenly, like a tiger on a school child, it sprang on Banger: He had uncovered one of Michelangelo’s secrets.
"Shit for breakfast!" exclaimed Banger. "Look!"
The detective, who had been napping while standing up, instantly awoke and followed Banger’s pointing finger.
"That angel in the background… that one right there, third from the left in that one picture."
"Is that an angel or a clown?"
"An angel, I’m pretty sure. Look! He’s trying to fit his whole hand in his mouth. When I first saw it, I thought maybe he was just retarded. In fact, usually when I come to see the Sistine Chapel, I usually just look at the penises, I’ve never noticed that angel. But what if…"
Banger raced across the floor, pulling the keys to his plane from his pocket. "I’ve got to fly to Paris, immediately!"
"They won’t let you in at this hour, if you just want to stare at David’s penis."
"No, I don’t have time for that tonight," said Banger, over his shoulder. "I think I’m onto the biggest conspiracy in the entire history of the twenty-first century!"
For more of this great story, buy Bran Downey’s novel
The Secrets of Michelangelo   |