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McDonald's Settles Case Over Nasty Food June 10, 2002 |
McDonald's posted an apology on their Web site Wednesday for misrepresenting its sandwiches as edible.
McDonald’s also posted an apology on its Web site, acknowledging that mistakes were made in communicating to customers about the edibility of its food. The worldwide chain has been selling burgers and sandwiches not suitable for adults since the early 1950’s.
“We sincerely apologize for any hardship or lousy meals that these miscommunications have caused among our billions of customers,” the company said in an apology posted June 1 on the Web site.
Seattle attorney Harish Bharti said Tuesday that a judge gave his tentative approval of the deal last month while bitterly chewing on a Quart...
cDonald’s Corp. has agreed to donate $10 million to consumer groups to settle lawsuits filed against the chain for mislabeling its food as fresh and tasty. McDonald’s also posted an apology on its Web site, acknowledging that mistakes were made in communicating to customers about the edibility of its food. The worldwide chain has been selling burgers and sandwiches not suitable for adults since the early 1950’s. “We sincerely apologize for any hardship or lousy meals that these miscommunications have caused among our billions of customers,” the company said in an apology posted June 1 on the Web site. Seattle attorney Harish Bharti said Tuesday that a judge gave his tentative approval of the deal last month while bitterly chewing on a Quarter Pounder with Cheese. “This is McNasty,” the judge added. McDonald’s spokeswoman Anna Rozenich said the money the company will be paying out will go to watchdog organizations that fight for truth in advertising and other issues linked to concerns raised by the consumers, including the poaching of endangered species and psychological trauma caused by life-sized ceramic clowns. McDonald’s was first sued in Seattle last year by three customers who expected to be able to eat the Extra Value Meals they purchased at a Seattle-area McDonald’s restaurant, not realizing they were purchasing pet toys. The trend caught on, and lawsuits were subsequently filed in Illinois, California, New Jersey and Texas. The lawsuits were filed on behalf of any customer who ate at a McDonald’s restaurant after 1971. That was the year the company first started showing adults eating McDonalds sandwiches in its ads and commercials, a feat considered impossible by many. “Our slogan has long been, ‘Delivering the taste you’ve come to expect from McDonald’s’,” said Rozenich. “We still believe this to be a true statement. What that taste is has never been specified in a legal context.” As part of the lawsuit, the consumer group Pants on Fire pushed to have McDonald’s slogan changed to the more accurate “Our fries are pretty good, but I’d stay away from anything claiming to contain meat,” which was turned down by the judge. Pants on Fire first came into the public spotlight in 1996, when they sued to have Bank of America’s national slogan changed to “Fuck you and your piddling little checking account.” McDonald’s customers nationwide reacted with joy at the news of the settlement. “It’s about fuckin’ time,” said Harvey McNeil of Des Plains, Iowa. “Look at that picture,” McNeil said, gesturing toward the menu, which pictured a succulent, juicy Big Mac sitting on a slab of marble next to a bushel of fresh tomatoes and lettuce. “Now look at this,” McNeil continued, opening his cardboard Big Mac container to reveal the pathetic, lopsided mess within. “It looks like somebody shit this out of a tube of Big Macs,” McNeil announced. “I’d take this back but they guy up there doesn’t speak any English.” “The fast food industry is unique in that it has little accountability,” said attorney Bharti. “If you bought a toaster and found it to be malformed and unappealing inside the box, you’d take it back and demand a refund. The manufacturer could never stay in business. But fast food restaurants thrive on rushed customers and a reliably inept staff to prevent any kind of feedback loop that would hurt business. It’s an enviable racket.” “McDonald’s listens to its customers and has vowed to make a change for the better,” claimed Rozenich with something close to a straight face. “This $10 million settlement is something McDonald’s takes very seriously, it will take us at least seven minutes to make that money back.” the commune news is presented with closed captioning for the hearing impaired. What? It’s not? What? What? Sorry, we can’t hear you! Ramrod Hurley isn’t married to actress Elizabeth Hurley, but thanks you for the sexual fantasy material.
 | Stock Market Takes a Major Shit June 10, 2002 |
New York, NY GRAPHS AFTER DARK Financial data is often represented by some kind of graph, like the one above
Day traders could be heard pissing and moaning loudly up and down Wall Street all day, and the world’s tiniest violin played just for them as little orphaned children brought them steaming cups of hot chicken noodle soup.
The NASDAQ closed down 53.17 points, at its lowest close since the last time those mama’s boys took it on the chin and their counterparts, the man-dressing woman traders, were kicked in the cock-soc...
he stock market took a major shit Monday, with big-shot tycoons throwing their concubines out skyscraper windows and countless pairs of silk boxers being clenched in nervous buttocks at the close of trading. Hundreds of snotty assholes lost a bundle and had to be chauffeured home to cry themselves to sleep on their pillows sewn with golden thread. Day traders could be heard pissing and moaning loudly up and down Wall Street all day, and the world’s tiniest violin played just for them as little orphaned children brought them steaming cups of hot chicken noodle soup. The NASDAQ closed down 53.17 points, at its lowest close since the last time those mama’s boys took it on the chin and their counterparts, the man-dressing woman traders, were kicked in the cock-socket. Trading volume was so-so, with stuffed shirts milling around restlessly all day, slapping each other’s asses and trying to get a rally started to save their precious timeshares in the Hamptons. After an ass-dragging start, stock prices got a momentary boost from data released early Monday that showed a great sale going on at a nearby Mercedes-Benz dealership, exciting the day traders and convincing them that this was their lucky day and they should buy anything that smelled like a stock. But the early rally crapped out by lunchtime when traders received a dispiriting report of dour financial news, casting a shadow over the market. Tyco International Chief Executive L. Dennis Kozlowski announced that he had a paper cut, and everybody stopped trading for at least a half an hour while they made wincing faces and told stories of other times when they’d had paper cuts. It was announced that John Fort, Tyco’s CEO from 1982 to 1992, will take control of the whole shebang until Kozlowski gets out of the hospital. Tyco’s stock price plunged while everyone was farting around and getting donuts or whatever, and other stocks began to plummet as traders who hadn’t been paying attention began a selling frenzy to make it look like they were on top of the ball. Overall stocks slumped 26.9 percent in the next hour until the heads of two investment firms got into a heated argument over whose turn it was with the remote and if it was okay to watch the 1985 Oliver Stone film Wall Street on the Big Board. Kent Engelke, markets strategist at Burntwhistle & Limey, said the strong sell-off was due to confusion among traders about data on the nation’s economic recovery. That afternoon’s agricultural report sparked arguments over whether peanuts grow on bushes or on trees, and data from the manufacturing sector confused traders who assumed that toasters were made in the back of the toaster store. Traders also could not agree on what Mexican money was called, if it was pesos or guapos, he added. “We were hit with some big shocks today, that’s for sure. Like, did you know they have people working in factories nowadays? Actually putting together toys and cars and what have you. It’s not all robots like you’d think. Talk about some poor bastards,” Engelke said after having the silver spoon slapped out of his mouth. the commune news wants to know if hiring more women will get us one of those glass ceilings we’ve been hearing so much about. Sounds nice. Omar Bricks is a longtime columnist for the commune and the only person on staff who’s actually seen Wall Street, hence his first and hopefully only appearance as a reporter.
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 June 10, 2002 Keep Your Hands Off the President's Moneythe commune's Rash Tinker knows right from left Once again the current political climate has brought out the worst in the spend-o-crats. In case you're thinking that's another name for a real political party, don't be stupid. It's my funny way of saying Democrats that makes all my fans hoot and holler and make farting noises in approval. They know what I know—the spend-o-crats just like to spend our money on useless socialist programs, money that could be much better spent on bombers and tanks.
As my die-hard fans know, I decided to go into the job of professional right-wing personality when listening to the radio one day and hearing an out-of-context quote from that hippie socialist Robert Redford about how if we took all the money we were using to kill people overseas we could use that money to feed those same people. ...
º Last Column: I Haven't Laughed that Hard Since Mom Killed Dad
º more columns
Once again the current political climate has brought out the worst in the spend-o-crats. In case you're thinking that's another name for a real political party, don't be stupid. It's my funny way of saying Democrats that makes all my fans hoot and holler and make farting noises in approval. They know what I know—the spend-o-crats just like to spend our money on useless socialist programs, money that could be much better spent on bombers and tanks.
As my die-hard fans know, I decided to go into the job of professional right-wing personality when listening to the radio one day and hearing an out-of-context quote from that hippie socialist Robert Redford about how if we took all the money we were using to kill people overseas we could use that money to feed those same people. And I'm thinking, of course, "Cu-ckoo!" Am I right, readers? Why in the name of Jeepers H. Crackers would we want to feed the people we're trying to kill? What a spend-o-crat! The idiot totally doesn't get the idea of warfare. Unless maybe he was talking about poisoning the food we give the enemy or something, which I don't agree with. It's much more civil to shoot someone in the face than poison them.
I knew at that moment I could be a spokesperson for the "unpopular" view in Hollywood. I began to appear on radio programs, blowing away my opponents and sounding very handsome indeed. I would go on television programs, where I overcame the natural disadvantage of how I really look to out-argue such spend-o-crat linguistic acrobats as Pamela Anderson and Carrot Top. Slowly, one by one, I built up not only my following, but also my '83 Imapala's engine. Now I drive from city to city, lecturing to sold-out crowds of wealthy people who like to have what they already know reinforced by expensive speakers. And I make a pretty penny doing so, let me tell you! It's the American way.
But that doesn't give me the right to relax and let any nobody who happens to have a congressional job tell the president how to spend his money. And once again those spend-o-crats are going back on their word. They promised W. (my little nickname for him) that they would go all the way on this War on Terror, and like a scared teen-age girl who changes her mind at the last minute, they need a little coercing. That's what I'm writing about.
The spend-o-crats approved the War on Terror months ago, when it was a popular idea and the right thing to do. They knew if they didn't, if their stupid liberal pacifism showed its ugly head at that time, they would be ousted right from office by the public! I'm not sure exactly how that would be done, I'm not an expert on the law, the constitution, or how the government works in any fashion, but by God, we would have done it. Now that the war's been going a little slow they figure they can flip-flop and talk about spending that War on Terror money on domestic issues. I say to hell with that! That's War on Terror money! If I were the president (God willing, someday) I'd chew on that money like a dog with a bone. "No ya don't! That's my Terror money! Get off, bitch!" Though maybe without the street lingo.
And though nobody likes an argument, except most of us, the president knows darn well he has to be firm and unyielding with those War on Terror funds. The spend-o-crats gave 'em, now they can't take 'em back. You know what we call those people? Indian spend-o-crats. Or injun take-backers. Drunken redskin bastards. Something truly offensive to Indians. I say don't take it, W. We started out to level and destroy any country that doesn't like us, that's what the War on Terror's about, and by golly, we need to stay with it. Even if it means Iraq or Iran is next. And hopefully, eventually, France. º Last Column: I Haven't Laughed that Hard Since Mom Killed Dadº more columns | 
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Quote of the Day“No poor bastard ever won a war by dying for his country. He won it by making the other poor dumb bastard die for his country. Unless we're talking Gandhi, but what fun is it taking a cudgel to the nuts for your country? None, that's how much.”
-Gorgeous George SpattenFortune 500 CookiePrepare for a fantastic journey of whimsy and wonder, and it's going to cost you $20—don't forget you can't touch her. Your keys are always in the last place you left them, so try looking at the bottom of Lake Chappaquiddick. What's up grandma's ass? What a bitch. When this particular problem comes along, literally whipping it will only result in jail time. Lucky skin blemishes: blackhead, pockmark, knife wound, stigmata.
Try again later.Top 5 Bush Second-Term Pledges| 1. | Encourage nations to work with us again, under threat of violence | | 2. | Pay national deficit with Discover and Visa cards | | 3. | Appeal to black constituents by finally selling off "Amos & Andy" videos | | 4. | Build new wing of America so rich people can vacation more | | 5. | Two, maybe even three more inaugurations | |
|   Friends Cast Members Change Legal Names BY southern elvis brandon 6/10/2002 The Negative Sum of NumbersThere was something disappointing about going home from New York Art College. A depression set in as soon as Smythe drove his middle-class luxury car across the borders of his old California hometown, Burnt Pines. He was here to spend a few weeks of his summer vacation before flying first class to Europe to live life as a starving artist, where he would make a killing.
Mom and dad couldn't meet Smythe at the airport because he wanted it to be a surprise. Also, they were emotionally distant and mom was haunted by the sexual abuse of Smythe by an uncle that she couldn't prevent; but mostly because it was supposed to be a surprise.
Only one person knew about Smythe coming in, his best friend Eddie "Big Fucking Junkie" Joneser. Eddie was supposed to meet Smythe at the...
There was something disappointing about going home from New York Art College. A depression set in as soon as Smythe drove his middle-class luxury car across the borders of his old California hometown, Burnt Pines. He was here to spend a few weeks of his summer vacation before flying first class to Europe to live life as a starving artist, where he would make a killing.
Mom and dad couldn't meet Smythe at the airport because he wanted it to be a surprise. Also, they were emotionally distant and mom was haunted by the sexual abuse of Smythe by an uncle that she couldn't prevent; but mostly because it was supposed to be a surprise.
Only one person knew about Smythe coming in, his best friend Eddie "Big Fucking Junkie" Joneser. Eddie was supposed to meet Smythe at the airport, but once again, Eddie had let him down. Smythe was forced to fly back to New York City and drive all the way back in his car. You'd think after all this time he'd be used to Eddie letting him down. It was something he had never gotten used to.
Smythe went to Eddie's parents' house, where there was a huge hub-bub going on. Apparently, there was a party in full gear! Shit. Just like Eddie. Saturday afternoon and the party is still going on.
Parking his car, Smythe walked around back and found the yard full of fat degenerates. Ugly, down-trodden, just aching for a fix or to gamble or have sex with a dead person, no way of telling how far these people had slid from society's ranks.
"Where's Eddie?" demanded Smythe. People were confused and a little frightened, one was pregnant, and a guy eventually pointed toward the house.
Smythe stormed through the house, bumping into freak after weirdo, until he found the upstairs bathroom. Two guys were standing around doing God knew what, holding cocktails and waiting outside the bathroom. Smythe kicked it in, and inside, to his suspicions, he found Eddie sitting on the toilet.
"Jesus!" said Eddie, pulling up his pants. "You scared me, Smythe! I had to pinch one off!"
"Stop the act, Eddie," Smythe commanded, looking in the toilet for drugs. "I know you flushed the drugs down the toilet. And then pooed in there so I wouldn't search too good. Why, Eddie?"
"I—"
"Shut-up! I don't want to hear your lies anymore." And he didn't. Smythe dragged Eddie out by the arm as Eddie continued trying to pull his pants up. Smythe tossed him to the floor, as one of the suited guys entered the bathroom.
"C'mon, man, be cool!" pleaded Eddie.
"Knock off the act, Eddie, you're a junkie!" snapped Smythe. "I know you're jealous of me. I went to Art College, Eddie, it doesn't mean I don't still love you like a brother. If you want to be jealous, that's fine, but don't lose yourself in these ridiculous drugs. You're killing yourself."
"I told you, I don't take drugs!" said Eddie.
"Fuck you, Eddie," said Smythe, in a language that would have disappointed his mother. "You not only take drugs, you make them! Everybody knows it, it's no secret."
"I told you this before, man, I make an acid-reflux inhibitor. And I don't make it myself, I'm just CEO of the company that makes it. It's over-the-counter—"
"Aaaah!" screamed Smythe, grabbing his head like James Dean. "Stop the lies, Eddie!"
"It's the truth, you dick," said Eddie, standing up again and straightening his tie. "And for the last time, I'm not jealous of you going to Art School. I told you, I graduated six years ago with a Masters in Business Management from Princeton. Now if you're done interrupting the company picnic, I've got a three-legged race to win."
It was too much for Smythe. He let Eddie exit in peace, talking to another guy in a suit about fourth quarter earnings and appeasing stockholders. He just wanted to walk away, but Smythe knew if he didn't do something Eddie would be dead before he was 30. Next month.   |
