Fast Food Nation

Being that my family has a health history so bad that it would make the writers of "E.R" shake their collective heads, with diabetes, high blood pressure, and random heart ailments being the norm, the past few months has seen a somewhat healthier HumanityCritic. I've started a very unique training regiment, including driving past geriatric men in pick-up games of hoop while screaming, "That's right Grandpa, you could bathe in that Cocoon pool and that still wouldn't help your ass today!!", going to the local football field and using this sled-like thing where I have to harness myself in order to pull my friend Danny around to build up my strength, and skateboarding up a steep road on the other side of town for about 2 miles.(Oh, the harness thing, I have to make sure we do that late at night. I wouldn't want people to get the wrong image of a black guy pulling a white dude around like I'm some sort of negro taxi) OK maybe I'm over-doing it, I've always been stocky and have never had trouble finding my dick if that's what your wondering. But when I think about my two first cousins who both had a heart attack and a stroke in their mid thirties, it makes me not only want to eat salads for the rest of my life but fuck only vegan broads.

But there has been a few benefits to working out like a madman though. 1. My ass is getting smaller, which is a plus because who knows if I will ever see jail time. 2. Even though I have said that I have never had a problem seeing my genitalia, it does seem larger in that "Things in this mirror seem bigger than what they actually are" sort of way. 3. Not embarrassing myself and losing my breath during foreplay and 4. Most importantly, as a slimmer person you don't hear as much backhanded bullshit. ex. At a family gathering an aunt made me a plate and said, Are you sure you can eat all that??" when some ass-hat said, "Look at him, of course he can!" Fuck you motherfucker! ex 2. When women give you that bullshit, "Aww, you are like a little teddy bear!", which always prompts me to say, "Can I be a grizzly bear and maul your dumb ass!??"

The one downside is that I have to go through withdrawals due to me quitting my biggest addiction, and no it's not stalking Rosario Dawson or internet porn either, I am a recovering Fast Food junkie. For those out there who don't think that beef is pumped full of drugs you are truly mistaken, based on all the young girls with grown women's backsides you see nowadays, and the fact that I used to secretly eat Big Macks in the back of a vegan woman's house that I was dating once, feeling like a god-damned crack feign sneaking a hit. So, like a lover who leaves a Dear John letter behind to mark the end of a relationship, this is my fast food version, mixed with my usual brand of bullshit.

McDonald's: Being that I'm a disgruntled MC who always tries to find an opportunity to quote my old rhymes, me and McDonald's "go back like ass-cracks and spinal chords." I think it all started when I was a kid, remembering telling me father "Daddy!! Daddy!! I want a happy meal!", with him responding with a very parental "Sit the fuck down, I'm getting you your fucking happy meal. Fuck!", sentimental times like that will be with me forever. For the longest time I endorsed everything on their menu, the chicken nuggets(even though I thought it was mystery meat), the french fries were my favorite, the Big Mac, double cheese burgers, old Ronald McDonald just couldn't do wrong by me. But as time went on there were a few things that turned me off about the building with the golden arches to be totally honest. For one thing I developed a strange fear of clowns that haunts me to this day because of a giant size Ronald McDonald that was positioned inside my local eatery as a kid.(Basically, I have punched 3 clowns in my lifetime based on me nervously ordering my food as a kid, the whole while a 7 foot clown is staring at me like I'm a sandwich.) Also, possibly because health standards or rubbish like that, they decided to change the grease that they cook with, making everything taste like cardboard in my honest opinion. We won’t even get into McDonald's eliminating the “Supersize” option on their menu based on that Schmuck's documentary.(I’m sorry, but it doesn’t take a black republican to tell you that a strict diet of fast food is unhealthy)

Good McDonald’s Memory: Free-styling with a group of friends as a teenager to the point that the employees stopped working to watch us rhyme.(I started dating an employee named Carla shortly after that. I don’t know, but there is something strangely erotic about having sex with a woman who always smells like French fries.)

Bad McDonald’s Memory: Fighting the cashier in the parking lot simply because I said, “The ‘special sauce’ in the Big Mac isn’t special at all. It’s Thousand Island dressing!” As I received a first class ass whipping I thought, “This fucker is sure sensitive about his burger toppings!!”

Burger King: There is a reason that I refer to Burger King as “New Jersey”, let me explain. No disrespect to all the Garden Staters out there because I’m sure Jersey is a great state, but for some reason, whenever I have been there I have either gotten sick or killed. Burger King is the same way with me, I historically have had the worst luck when I’ve gone to that eating establishment. Like the time I threw up after eating a Whopper in the backseat of my friends Benz on a road trip, the countless upset stomachs, and the mass amount of time I have found myself glued to the toilet because my body rejected meat that I had “my way”. But even those few times that I didn’t get sick, I wasn’t really a fan of their food to begin with. The fries always tasted like blades of grass, and the burgers always tasted like they were cooked on the hood of a dirty car. OK, so I’m not exactly a Burger King guy, but I will never be one as long as they have that creepy crown wearing, Ronald-wannabe in their commercials freaking me the fuck out.

Bad Burger King Memory: Did you read the previous fucking paragraph?

Good Burger King Memory: Like the song said, I once did “get busy in a Burger King bathroom” once.

Wendy's: It’s funny, when my sister used to work at Wendy’s as a kid I used to love the “Frosty's that she brought home” , damn near inhaling it in under a minute flat. Now as an adult, when I was offered a Frosty by the wife of the engineer mixing our album a few weeks ago, the whole room looked at me with amazement as I said, “No thanks, they would go straight to my hips!” Effeminate retorts aside, I have always been a fan of “Wendy’s”, even though I thought that their food took minutes off my life each time I digested it. The fries are good but greasy, eating a burger with three slabs of meat can’t be a good thing, and for some reason the staff there always tends to be both incompetent and rude, but those petty complaints weren’t enough to keep me away from the house that Dave built. I’m sure going to miss the clogged arteries, laughing at their “salad menu”, and being told that I’m an "asshole" just because I simply pointed out that the cashier owed me 15 dollars more change than she originally gave back.

A Good and a Bad Wendy’s Memory: Bless the dead, I once saw Dave Thomas doing some sort of promotion in a random Wendy’s location in Florida that I was at. He had security, and I was high, so I thought it would be funny if I said, “Yo Dave, where’s that bitch Wendy at??” He didn’t find it funny, neither did his henchmen who looked like they were going to bury me some place far away.