What a mind job.

Food chains must think we are fucking stupid. Until this very moment, they have faked openness and wholesomeness, and have pulled it off well. Here, I present a number of big secrets. Some things you shouldn’t know. The elements that make Krispy Kreme and Starbucks taste so good.

1. Reused oil
2. Trans-fats
3. Refined sugar
4. Unpronouncable additives
5. Abused cow-teets
5. Trance-states

Krispy Kreme

Delightful, aren’t they? People buy them by the box-load, don’t they? Snacks for manic-depressives, KK is guaranteed to make you shine - like some ball-less radioactive superhero. A nutrient profile any mother would be proud of, 16g FAT with the deadly triad of month-old, reused canola (industrial grade), soybean, and palm oils heated with KKs special trans-fat frying machines that exceed the core temperature of Hell (4,203,544c). Also, 42g of carbs with the dicky duo of bleached white flour and hardkore sugar (glucose, sugar, high fructose corn syrup, corn syrup). Add industrial chemicals, like Dispersing Agent 1520 – otherwised used in radiator anti-freeze, cosmetics, hair products and deodorants. (The FDA linked this stuff to fatal heart attacks and suspect it is a neurotoxin).

And oh, what psychology. KK generates ‘grand opening’ hysteria with the eager support of generic cockroaches the world over. This is especially the case in KK-virgin countries (e.g., Australia), where duped non-thinking masses wait in a queue, outside, in the rain and wind, eagerly, for 2 hours, only to eat such petroleum-based fried balls of shit by the boxload. BIGGER PICTURE: Sounds fairy floss and shit, but KK “Encourage you to enjoy our doughnuts as a part of an active lifestyle that includes a balanced diet and exercise”. Excuse me, fuck what? Balanced diet? What happens when you eat a KK donut? Your diet is imbalanced for months, asshole. Also, never forget, the acne-ridden, flu-carrying emo teen handling your doughnuts doesn’t give a shit about you, and neither does KK or its executives. You’ll get fat, they rationalise, and become irritable, unhappy, snappy, impulsive, and only buy more doughnuts to keep your self-hatred moving. FINAL COMMENT: Steer clear from this carbo-loaded fat-injected drug-like chemical-laced mega-dose of shit turning us into fat, no-necked, irritable short-fused unhappy maniacs.

CONCLUSION: Avoid spontaneous crying, severe depression, uncontrollable urges to swan-dive in front of moving trains, and complete loss of blood flow to the genitals: Re-sell them for a huge profit to some dumb whore who hasn’t read this article. Then have anal sex with her.

Starbucks

Mmm, coffee. So many Starbucks varieties. What do they all have in common? They source their milk from cows with machine-molested teets, then add trans-fats, sweeten the fuck out of it with machine-modified sugar to hypnotise you into acceptance and oblivion, and THEN, they serve this asshole concoction of slime to you in a Venti size designer cup – 600ml of fucking mind-numbing sugar, heart-jumping caffeine, and blubber-inducing trans-fats to balloon you into unhappiness, crankiness, and suicidal tendencies.

BIGGER PICTURE: Never forget, the acne-ridden emo teen with the flu making your coffee doesn’t give a shit about you, and nor do the Starbucks executives. They rationalise, generic assholes like you think you’re Hollywood material because you buy Venti-sized chemically-unstable coffee, and love to be seen drinking with your generic cockroach buddies. Either that, or you like the world to think you’re stressed, busy, or somehow more important than the fucking statistical rice-grain-sized blip of insignificance that you really are. FINAL COMMENT: Steer clear of this seductively lethal-yet-socially-chic-and-glorified frappuccino-of-death that will turn you into a fat psychopath babbling about how busy and stressed you are.

CONCLUSION: Only buy it to splash all over the face of some generic cockroach who waits in line at KK.

1. Remember, no one gives a fuck about you

You may, at some stage, feel compelled to share intricate details of your life with other people. Sure, you rationalise, "I’m pretty important, I live an interesting life". Sure, you jest, people will be fixated on your words like a fat bitch loves mud cake. But, consider one fact, if you would: Your life is pathetic. And, you are boring. No one wants to hear you speak, let alone digest random ramblings about your irrelevant existence and the particular way in which you perceive it. What you do, interests nobody beyond yourself. So, before you decide to tempt fate (and ask for an elbow to the face), spare the poor piece of shit you are conversing with. Unless such disclosure is solicited (see out clause below), simply shut the fuck up. It really works, I promise. Now, how's that for a dose of reality, you babbling fuck-stick? Good! Keep reading.

OUT CLAUSE: This rule need not be heeded if you are detailing: 1) how you won more than $1,000,000 in a lottery draw, and 2) how you plan on buying the listener a range of quality gifts, like a couple of Mont Blanc Starwalker pens). SIDE NOTE: Readers are now able to donate any number of Mont Blanc Starwalker pens (genuine only, please) to the author of this blog – the noble Yayo Banderas. In return, he will publicise your name, photograph, personal message, and then publicly honour you with a 500-word essay about how you rule his world.

2. Don’t go visiting when you are sick

Listen here, you germy, sniffily motherfucker. What balls you have, splashing your active snot into the faces of innocent people. You have one very brief out-clause:

OUT CLAUSE: This rule is not applicable if your listener ‘friend’ is really a miserable fuckball. You know, that annoying motherfucker who repeatedly violates rule #1 above? Fuck them. Visit them, under the guise of honest, open friendliness. Smile, wave. Then breathe on that sorry piece of shit. (DISCLAIMER: This advice has not been evaluated by the FDA. Not intended for serious contagious illnesses, only the common cold. Jees, what the fuck were you thinking, you sadistic asshole?)

3. Don’t answer your mobile phone when talking to a real human

Did you hear that, you pseudo-important ‘consultant’ hero? Why does that annoying gimp who calls your mobile phone automatically attract more attention than the real human you are exchanging tangible words and values with? But there you are, staring off into space, duped into the illusion that you are some kind of movie star. Your voice is elevated, your posture is erect, your eyebrows are raised, and your breathing is shallow. Yes, that’s right. The hallmark characteristics of a bamboozled fag. Yet, you think you’re special? Privileged? I jest not, little one. Reality-perception means valuing the real-life human you can see, touch, and feel. Pseudo-stardom means thinking you’re ‘the shit’ when someone rings your mobile phone. Now, respect yourself, turtle head. Don’t make a cock of yourself. Turn that shit flip/twist/slide Nokia off. NOW.

OUTCLAUSE: The only two exceptions to this rule are calls from the state lottery consultant, and your mother. Don’t disrespect your mother. You got that, coconut-ass? Good, now fuck off.

Leave me a comment, and tell me who the fuck you are, cockroach.

Do it, generic asshole. Leave a comment. Or I will steal your numberplates and drive past your local police station at 280km/h, or 174 mph if you are stupid enough to live in a country that uses mph. Fucker.

What, are you fucking stupid?

Generic asshole.

I'll fucking king hit you with a microphone stand.

You know, 4WD vehicles are increasingly popular today. But, there are only two types people who own them: 1) those who live in the crevices of a mountain made of stone, dirt, gravel and manure, and 2) those who live in suburbia on perfectly normal, sealed roads.

So, let’s examine the second group more closely. Yes, the sad, insecure cohort of life-rejects who drive big 4WDs in regular suburbs and cities. Here is a consideration of the statistics:

 
Well, it looks like inner-city 4WD drivers do need to be run off the road and into concrete pylons. Either that, or bashed with high-quality steering wheel locks. They will always remain insecure, intellectually touched assholes that continue to plough through the suburban roads thinking they dominate other traffic, and everything that moves. Yep, who’d a thought buying a 4WD could turn a softcock jerkoff into a real man.

Would it surprise you that the crazy frog concept has raked in over $24 million dollars since it began? Absolutely not! Look at the market the creators are exploiting! Teenie dumbfucks … to drill down this demographic more specifically, I suspect they are predominantly female virgins under 15 years of age who own colourful mobile phones. Don’t forget, they have rich parents who will buy these fuckin’ brats anything they whine for.

Now, these fucksticks will consume anything! Anything that is perceived as ‘cool’. They go through stupid phases like wearing g-strings at age 13, getting a tattoo on their ass crack, and wearing ¾ length bike pants. Now they suck up every fuckin’ variation of the original “ding ding” ringtone – which, incidentally, was recorded on a shit microphone by some European heap of shit who decided to imitate a scooter. Now if this doesn’t give you some insight into the intelligence of the creator of the crazy frog, I really don’t know what does. I can see it now! Euro trash creator of crazy frog gets a phone call, “heyy, let’s go out man, big party tonight, pussy everywhere”… to which he replies “nooo man, I’m real busy here, I’m imitating a scooter and recording it on my shitty computer! ding ding!”. You get the idea, what a fucking jerkoff.

Man, this shit is more profitable than drugs or a hardcore mafia business combined. It will soon be worth $100 million. Where else could you make profits like this, with so little effort, and do it legally? This mobile phone craze has to come to an end. Perhaps when these stupid little fucks learn the art of piracy, and learn how to use Bluetooth/wireless/data cables to transfer their own shit and ditch the scamming companies that charge them $5 per gay ringtone.

What a fat, sweaty, worthless drug-fucked whore she is. She appears on my TV screen every lunchtime and dinner, screaming out “fat chick” mantra’s while bouncing on a trampoline. She harasses the viewer like a true nutjob with her trademark™ cocaine-induced husky voice.

She raves on about how Jenny Craig allows her to eat “chocolate cake!” and “fettuccini!”. Perhaps that’s the reason why she’s still a fat fuck. There is no doubt she is the mascot for all fat whores the world over, who must feel a jolt of liberation to see a fat woman on TV finally making waves.

In fact, this bitch openly admitted to using cocaine in the 70’s to ‘shed pounds’. It induced hardcore psychosis and paranoia. No shit. Watch her on the Jenny Craig ad’s. She appears to have no greater cognitive functioning than our friend Gilbert Grape - however, to her credit, she may actually be a pretty fuckin’ good actor (anyone in Hollywood looking to cast a psychiatric patient please contact Kirstie Alley's booking agent).

PS: One of Kirstie’s quotes from the 70’s you won’t see on the Jenny Craig website - "One great way to lose weight is to become a hopeless drug addict. I've tried it and it really does work”. Well done Kirstie, you have cemented yourself as the most miserable fat druggie dropkick to have struck a deal with yet another scientifically-warped multinational weight loss company.

Roof method



Class: 7, Skill required,: 9, Risk assessment: 9.8, Impression: 10.

DIRECTIONS: Pounce on the roof of a passing car. Secure your propeller hat, set it to “fly”. Gain enough momentum before the asshole driving the car gets caught at a red light. Leap into the air before the car loses momentum. You should find yourself gaining altitude rapidly, indicating your propeller hat is fully functional. Steer yourself with skyward head movements. Hover directly above your designated location, remove hat. You may find yourself plummeting at a speed of 2800ft/sec. This is normal. You may report a loss of vision and/or consciousness. This is also normal. You may want to ignore pre-recorded pleas from the hat to “pull up, pull up”. Perfect for making a grand entrance, and impressing that girl you want to fuck in the ass. Just don’t die doing it, idiot.

Refried Beans method:

Class: 5, Skill required,: 3, Risk assessment: 4.5, Impression: 7.

DIRECTIONS: Eat several cans of Refried Beans. Wait for gastic pressure to rise to approx. 400psi/kg. Seat yourself in an assless chair. Take the helm, and fart until you feel the earth, move, under your feet. Soar, up and above, baby. Soar high, and take your chair to the highest of heights.

You may run out of gas needed for your journey. This is normal. Simply steer over Europe, and inhale recycled diesel fuel. If this fails to reignite your gastric flatus, proceed to emergency landing procedure: Land in Afghanistan while screaming out “Allah is great”. Several men in white sheets will break your fall.

Rickshaw method

Class: 10, Skill required,: 0, Risk assessment: 1, Impression: 10.

DIRECTIONS: Eat at various fast food chains until you are 400lbs. Hire a Rickshaw for 8 cents a day. Bounce your fat ass around in an attempt to make the famished driver go insane. Realise, however, that they have been trained to cart around fat, lazy, over-liberated western fucks like you, and will not be phased by any 'whiteguy' stunts you may pull. You may eat gourmet meals while riding in the Rickshaw, however, under no circumstances should you share any portion of your meal with the famished negro that is carting you around town. That would be unethical.