Behold, Burger King home delivery! That's right, America's No. 3 fast food death machine is testing the bringing of Whoppers, BK Stackers and other grease-related, food-like items that are so full of salt and sugar and fat and synthetic hormones they will make your blood turn into glue and your face turn into Paula Deen, straight to your door!
It's totally wonderful and awesome in the way that getting a free colonoscopy with every punch in the face is awesome, in the same way that every hit of meth rots out one more tooth is awesome, in the same way that being Newt Gingrich's miserable third wife must be totally awesome.
Best part: you barely have to lift a finger. Just enough to tap a few buttons on the site/app, and within an hour, not-so-fast food will be killing you and your family faster than you can say "Damn liberals stop telling me what to eat!"
In related news, Taco Bell has reportedly developed a method of cramming its patented, fake taco meat into .44 caliber bullet casings, which, for $.99 a round, it will shoot straight in your heart over and over again, until you collapse. The Taco Bulleto™ is coming soon to a drive-by near you.
Rejoice, Paula Deen! Paula Deen is America's greasiest, butteryest, lyingest Southern-fried sweetheart! Paula Deen appears to openly despise you and does not seem to care if you get fat and sick and perhaps die from eating her bacon-wrapped deep-fried mac-and-cheese butter-dipped donut logs on a stick!
How do we know? Because it turns out America's 157th most popular celebrity chef no smart or healthy person watches or even knows exists was apparently diagnosed with Type 2 diabetes fully three years ago, did nothing about it, and is only now coming out and announcing her diagnosis -- not so she can change her ways, promote a light and healthy diet or express a modicum of contrition for poisoning your family all these years, but instead so she can serve as a shill for a dubious diabetes drug. Thoughtful! Capitalism!
But it's OK. Do you know why? Because Deen promotes something called "comfort food," which is apparently from the South, where they happily sacrifice health, nutrition, intelligence and actual nourishment for taking a jackhammer made of lard and sugar to your colon and calling it delicious. Comfort food! It's like calling the Catholic church "female friendly!"
In related news, I'm thrilled to announce my new Food Network show, "That's Inedible!" in which I demonstrate how to chain smoke a carton of Marlboros, nibble road tar and smash yourself in the face with a brick. In season two -- filmed, naturally, in my special room in the cancer ward -- I will announce my endorsement of the Breathe-Rite 5000 portable oxygen tank. Watch for it, right after Celebrity Chef Apprentice Kitchen Torture Knife Gastric Band Restaurant Hell.
Praise, Catholic churches! How relieved you must be, now that you may continue, as you have for millennia, to not give much of a damn for women's health, empowerment or reproductive choice, as Obama has allowed you to be partially exempt (at least, for a while) from providing contraception and birth control information to needful women, as required in his new health care legislation. Lucky you!
And here you were, thinking for a split second that maybe, just maybe, organized religion and the concomitant misogyny that's putrefied you for eons might, just might, have to step into the 20th century! Or even the 17th! Not a chance! Whew.
In related news...
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Mark Morford is the author of The Daring Spectacle: Adventures in Deviant Journalism, a mega-collection of his finest columns for the San Francisco Chronicle and SFGate. He recently wondered who in your life you find perfectly toxic, cheered that the gay agenda will see you now, and is fairly certain Jesus took magic mushrooms. Join him on Facebook, or email him. Not to mention...
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