Dunkin'!

Apparently, whenever you walk into a McDonalds now, you need to speak in iambic pentameter.

"Its like the ping to the pong, like the ding to the dong." -Chicken Nugget Fucker. Good Lord! How many people legitimately talk about McDonalds like this? So eloquent, like his college directory accidentally sent him to the campus McDonalds instead of Humanities Hall 341. Its almost like he wants to one day take a chisel inside of their bathroom, go into one of the stalls, and then carve a hole in the tile so he can fuck it. HE WANTS TO FUCK THE ESTABLISHMENT OF MCDONALDS! and not even in the pejorative sense. His soft, fleshy dick tearing against his lover's stony vagina, pulsating against the hum of the broken milkshake machine, until climax... when one of the workers barges into place, totally ruining the vibe. No, he wants to craft poetry about how misshapen chicken fragments dunked into saccharin sweet paste makes his nether regions tingle and his nipples harden. I imagine that of the friends in this commercial, our star (I'll name him Regis) is the one who tries to involve his friends in his own fucked-up bullshit. For example, one time Becky forgot to call Regis about this totally sweet kick-back where they were going to listen to that one Sufjan Stevens song that wasn't released, and all Regis could do was sit in the commissary with a sullen look on his face so that people would walk up and stupidly ask, "Aw, what's wrong?" "What's wrong? I'll tell yah what's wrong: My life consists of two things: McDonald's chicken products and the velvety voice of the Suf. And since SOMEBODY FORGOT TO CALL ME," he shrieks at his turned off phone, "I don't get to partake of either." That's the Regis we all know and hate.

You can tell that his friends' relationship with him is very tired and on the verge of turning sour. Regis simply has to state a single fact about chicken McNuggets (That they are "great," which is not a fact) and the girl to his left (our right) rolls his eyes and chants the sacred spell of comedic relief: "Here we go." If only, OH! IF ONLY! they had added the proverbial "again," that would be the saving grace of this ad (McDonalds fact). Then there is Hipster Commercial Douche #1 to his immediate right, this smarmy looking mother fucker combines the rough and tumble elements of stubble with the intelligent softness of a plaid, long sleeve shirt. I doubt he has showered in the last 72 hours. In fact, I bet that he found the money to buy himself some "chikn nugs" this morning while making the weekly visit to the bathroom to make sure he still looks like an ass. Everything was checking through (Dirty plaid shirt, check. False sense of entitlement, check.) when he peered down toward his crusty toilet brush to see some fool had left a five dollar bill in the bristles. After cleaning the currency off, he called his black, bespectacled friend (Hipster Douche #2) who then called his black friend ("Here we go" Girl) who then called her semi-hispanic looking friend (Who may as well as been a plant in this commercial, she has no lines), who asked if she could bring this new guy she met in the Russian Lit section of the library. They both were looking for a copy of Marx's Manifesto, even though he is German. "He's pretty cool. His name is Regis." "No," said Herewego Girl, "for the love of God, no! Get away from him as far as you ca..." but it was too late.

Anyways, the crux of this campaign to bring back McNuggets are the new sauces McDonalds has to offer. "Dipping food into something to help you forget that your eating it" I believe is the new slogan. Why don't we take a step back.

Jamie Oliver Sucks at Controversy

Ah, AMERICA! Did you see it? Did you see how the sausages were made? Did it make you cringe? Did it make you want to drop $10 for fifty (Fucking 50) chicken Mcnuggets? Those children sure didn't seem to mind, and what better judgement than that from the mouths' of babes? I do not give a shit about how they are made, every once in a while, after a large amount of THC enters my bloodstream, I don't mind shoveling a few of these little bastards into my mouth. I might say that Regis and I share that common bond. I might say that there's a little Regis in all of us, this desire to speak in such a way to make us seem smarter, but really enjoys the McNugget things in life. I might say that the chicken McNugget need not try to coat their little jewels of chicken in glazes that blind out taste buds. JUST BE YOURSELF, MCDONALDS! America's Fatty Factory.

Thank You For Reading,
Michael Kaye