Do You Want Bananas With That?

Do You Want Bananas With That?

The new McDonald’s healthy choices menu is really getting out of hand. I don’t want real food, I go there to gorge myself on imitation hamburgers, freedom fries, and malk shakes. Real food is displayed on the dining table for a week then thrown out. That’s why I only want to eat phony food. I can buy ten burgers for ten dollars, and they’re still cheaper than laxatives. Taste better too.

Also, their staff leave a lot to be desired. They say the chimps add extra flavor, but I get all the flavor I want from dropping my burgers on the floor. I just don’t want any Ebola to go along with my mad cow disease. The flavors clash.

Greedo Totally Shot First

Greedo Totally Shot First

I really feel for the guy in the video. I hate when I get shot with a flare gun and die. It happens all the time and it’s really beginning to get on my nerves. My disembodied ears are still ringing from the last time. At least he got done in quick. After my last flare gun mishap I’ve been reduced to just a head in a jar. My insurance plan doesn’t cover recapitation so I’m stuck like this for all eternity. Now I use my tongue to type and my eyelids to scroll; it’s not so bad after you get used to not breathing or going to the bathroom. Pro tip: On the internet, nobody knows you’re a severed head.

A flare gun wouldn’t typically cause your entire body to disintegrate like you got hit with a holy hand grenade, but in this case it seems appropriate. A video without a violent explosion simply isn’t good enough. We have very high standards here at the BSBFB headquarters. Also, we some very delicious looking donuts in the break room, but no one will carry my jar over.

One Hears Such Sounds, And What Can One Say But — JIMMY.

One Hears Such Sounds, And What Can One Say But — JIMMY.

This song definitely needs a marimba or two to fill out the mid-range. A nice string section could really add a lot. Nothing says MY PAPA IS A SUPER GIANT like the London Philharmonic blazing away in the background. Throw in a tuba solo for some added suspense and sophistication. Record a theremin part to add some sex appeal. Nothing says sexy like indistinct monotonous wailing. And finally, it needs more cowbell.

Don’t get me wrong, I like the direction he’s taking; very edgy, very raw, very cool. It sounds like a sharp mound of uncooked hamburger in music form. Which is obviously a good thing. And it’s not like you can’t relate to the guy. We all have a papa of some sort. Most of them aren’t super giants, but basketball players have kids, too.

Burn, Baby, Burn. Bristol Inferno.

Burn, Baby, Burn. Bristol Inferno.

He’s made that flamethrower for all the wrong reasons. You don’t make a machine like that because you’re trying to emulate a comic book character. You make it because you can — and because flamethrowers are awesome. If my weekend project was to build a flamethrower I’d be pretty satisfied with myself. Just imagine all the cool things you can do when you finish building it. Instead of letting your wife burn your toast, burn it yourself with your brand new flamethrower. You don’t need to have any rhyme or reason to singe your eyebrows off.  It’s just a thoroughly enjoyable experience.

We all need to come up with more activities that could definitely use a flamethrower. I could see it being used for gardening. You’ve got to get those pesky weeds out somehow. Hunting would be perfect because all the meat would come precooked.