Doritos Reveals New Human Tracking Chips

orrowing a page from every cautionary future tale ever written and 60% of all science fiction films to date, the Frito-Lay Corporation today unveiled Trakos, a new line of Doritos brand “human tracking chips� designed to thwart kidnappings and various other ugly crimes in four delicious varieties.

The new chips, offered in Ranch Attack, Hellapeño, Nacho Bacon, and Four Course Meal flavors, use cutting edge technology to embed edible microchips into the snack food. These microchips can then be tracked by satellite and hand-held scanning devices worldwide, providing a huge aid in missing-persons cases involving recent snack chip consumption. The high-tech snacks are being offered in response to recent public demands for improved homeland security and a snack food that tastes like nacho-flavored bacon.

“The public has been resistant to this tracking technology for years, but now we’ve made it delicious,� explained Doritos head Ken Abenly.

“People may balk at the idea of being implanted with a tracking device, but we think the time has come to put those outmoded fears to rest,� said Abenly. “The threat of an embarrassing public death at the hands of some crazed terrorist or your cheating husband is just too great these days. Criminals may still resist the concept of being tracked through microchips floating around in their bile, but we’re confident we’ve made these chips delicious enough to overcome any objections.�

Chip-hating privacy advocates have protested the trend, citing fears of a Big Brotherly government agency using the American public’s weakness for tasty snack foods to create a vast surveillance network, leading inevitably to political oppression and embarrassing high-water jumpsuits for all.

“The rest of our chips have been known for years to be major contributors to obesity, heart disease and stroke, yet that hasn’t stopped anyone from pounding the things like they were going out of style,� continued Abenly. “So we don’t foresee privacy concerns being a major deterrent. After all, which would you rather have: A tiny, painless microtransmitter in your gullet, or a spaghetti tangle of gross heart tubes coming out of your chest? Yuck. Sounds like a no-brainer to me. Plus we made sure they taste like nacho-flavored bacon, which the people seem to love.�

Despite protests, the technology appears to be a likely hit. Plans are already in the works for several other tracking foods, including Grandma Come Home pitted prunes from Sunkist and Ralson Purina’s upcoming Trackin’ Wagon dog food to aid in the search for missing pets.

Sadly, the technology has not yet advanced to the point of aiding in the search for pets or loved ones who are already missing, though unsubstantiated reports have Hershey Foods working on a time-traveling chocolate bar that might allow consumers to go back in time and feed tracking foods to their currently missing pets before they disappear. Dim-witted focus groups have also drawn attention to the need for intelligence regarding what kinds of snack foods car keys might enjoy, so that they can be fed tracking snacks and never be lost again.

n a staunch memo from the White House, written on the president's customized Wild Thornberrys stationary with the head "From the Desk of George II," the president issued a decree confirming the controversy over intelligence errors was at an end.

"Let it ring forth from the Oval Office, loyal Americans," the memo stated, all i's dotted with smiley faces, "that the alleged problem with intelligence has been resolved. We shall not address these topics again under penalty of whatever we can do to you."

The stern warning stems from revelations that Bush used unconfirmed reports of Saddam Hussein attempting to buy uranium in Africa in a Jan. 28 State of the Union address. The report later proved a forgery, and not even a good forgery, forgery critics have reviewed. The misstatement is the first public proof of inaccuracy in Iraq intelligence claims against the president, if you exclude the obvious lack of weapons of mass destruction in Iraq at all. Critics of the president—you know, non-Republicans—were quick to attack the false claim in the wake of recent information.

"Mr. President, for the American people, I ask you, Where are these weapons of mass destruction?" accused Democratic presidential nominee Dennis Kucinich in a fund-raiser only he attended.

White House officials were caught off guard by the public story revealing the inaccuracy of the uranium claim, and pointed to the CIA as the culprit. In their estimation, the CIA is responsible for verifying every statement the president is to say before he says it, or make it true in the aftermath once he has said it. CIA Director George Tenet, as captain of the rotting ship, took full responsibility for the error. According to other CIA insiders, Tenet had previously made White House speechwriters remove an Oct. 7 reference to the same forged documents until it could be verified, but failed to intercede on the president's behalf in January.
The backlash came in a form of public outcry about the legitimacy of intelligence collected by the CIA, and a frustrated Bush responded by saying he retained faith in Tenet, who was responsible for his false declarations, and that American intelligence was in good hands, describing it as "darn good." Political pundits were on the offensive again however, noticing that Bush stopped short of calling the intelligence "the bee's knees" or "rootin' tootin'."

The presidential decree, the first of its kind, was released Saturday, following a failed attempt the week before to urge the nation into silence by calling the matter "closed." The decree, while not a Constitutionally-viable change in public policy and holding no legal ramifications for the disobedient, could be the first in a series of presidential changes in lawmaking to enforce the will of the president over his subjects. Which is how Bush sometimes refers to his constituents.

White House mouthpiece and new meat Scott McClellan defended what some considered a presidential overstepping of duties.

"His will is divine and not for us to question," said McClellan Saturday. "He is merciful and wise. Your opinions to him are like the gnats buzzing around the head of the large and noble wildebeest of the Serengeti plain."

It could be neither confirmed nor denied at press time whether wildebeests roamed the Serengeti.

If you're like me, you're starting to wonder if they're ever going to come out with a pill that makes everybody beautiful, or if that was just the Twilight Zone blowing smoke up our asses. You also thought that by now the world would be overrun by test-tube baby freaks, babies with super powers or at least alarmingly rounded skulls like built-in helmets from gestating in a big glass tube. Isn't that some scary shit? You bet your cold sweat nightmares it is! I'd probably be the president by now if I hadn't lost so much precious sleep to the threat of a test tube baby creeping up out of my toilet tank with piano wire in hand, yikes.

But, unless you're living on the set of a Korean horror flick or you're the late Howard Hughes, that's a future that never came true. Why?

Finding an answer to that question involves a lot of legwork spent freak hunting, which is sort of like freak dancing except you don't get to rub your crotch on a girl. The reason this freak hunting is necessary is because you can't answer the question of why there aren't any test tube baby freaks running around until you've made sure there actually aren't any. After all, for all you know your neighbors could all be test tube babies grown up, and while you're at work they have meetings in each other's living rooms about how creepy it is to live next door to the freak who got squeezed out of a vagina thirty years ago. No wonder they never invite you to their BBQs, that's a disgusting image.

After a quick poll of everyone who happened to be in the commune offices this afternoon, I determined with statistical certainty that there aren't any grownup test tube baby freaks out running around. Nobody in the office was a test tube baby, anyway, though editor Red Bagel recently appeared on television eating babyback ribs and Lil Duncan once was allowed to skip a roadside sobriety test because she was wearing a tube top. Granted, the commune staff constitutes a limited (in more ways that one) sample size, but it's hot outside. Also, there was a Fed-Ex guy here who was on the wrong floor and he wasn't a test tube baby either, so I say that seals the deal pretty convincingly.

So what happened to all of them? Were they rounded up as infants and processed into lunchmeat? Or did they grow up together as a bizarre clan in a cloistered and secretive governmental environment, like Utah?

While this would explain an awful lot about Utah, there's no way the government would ever leave evidence of such an Orwellian conspiracy in plain sight of any random Olympics spectator or people who got lost looking for Colorado. The government likes to save that "in plain sight" hiding trick for when aliens crash land right at the same time SNL needs a new batch of writers for the season.

Long story short, it turns out all the test tube babies are now working at McDonald's. Well, not all of them, some work at Arby's and the other fast-food chains, but they're not allowed to run the giant meat slicer so they have to have at least one normal human on the staff there to make sure nobody gets very gradually decapitated. But nine out of ten test tube babies are now plugged in behind the counter at fast food restaurants; the tenth is making sure the salad bar at Old Country Buffet has twice as many olives as anything else.

How did this come about? In recent years, all the recent immigrants with poor English skills have been opting for higher-paying customer service jobs, leaving the fast food industry in need a cheap and unreliable workforce that could be made into McNuggets if the freezer ever crapped out unexpectedly. The first test tube babies began to come of age in the late 90's, but were generally useless since it turns out the mother's umbilical cord transmits some kind of nutrients that are important for fetal brain development. So the test tube kids were basically permanently stoned all the time.

What had been a frustrating problem for the government and their caretakers was a gold-shitting goose for the fast food industry, since they'd been looking for replaceable bands of idiots to run their restaurants for years. A few small changes had to be made to accommodate the new workforce, as the tubers' domed noggins required the addition of embarrassing foam mesh baseball caps to the standard fast food uniform to keep customers from flipping out and screaming uncontrollably mid-meal. But in the end the fast food chains got their wish: workers with no will to break who were willing to scrub Horsey sauce out of booster seats for eleven cents an hour and no benefits.

And really, terrible as the jobs might be, it was a step up for the tube babies, who'd lived most of their lives in lockers like the cast of You Can't Do That on Television. The only real losers were consumers, who haven't got a fast food meal right since 1997. You ever try to order something without pickles at one of these places? I rest my case. You'd have better luck getting them to notarize your living will. One time the guy just handed me a big bag of pickles that was stapled shut, it's like dealing with the rejects from a mannequin factory. Come to think of it, I think that was in a Twilight Zone episode, too. Eerie.

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