I like fast food and I’m not afraid to admit it.
A Double Whopper from Burger King or a Double Quarter Pounder from McDonalds fucking rocks. Arby’s Beef and Cheddar sandwich with some curly fries stomps my balls. Taco Bell also has some good shit. And Checker’s/Rally’s fries? My mouth is watering.
Of course, if you admit to liking fast food on pretty much any online forum, your replies will usually consist of “OMG fast food makes me sick,” “Fast food isn’t real food and is made with chemicals,” “LOL FAT ASS U LIEK FAST FOOD,” or “HAHAH AMERICANS ARE FAT PIGS GO EAT A BIG MAC”. The king of these pompous douchebags is Morgan Spurlock with his movie “Supersize Me”. Basically, this guy eats nothing but McDonalds for a month. Breakfast, lunch, dinner, all McDonalds. Of course, by the end of the movie the guy’s doctor is telling him “You’re going to die if you keep doing this.” Really? So you mean to tell me I can’t eat McDonalds all day every day without fucking up my health? I never would have guessed! Spurlock? More like Sherlock!
Too bad he couldn’t deduce who his wife was screwing behind his back while he was away filming “Where in the World is Osama bin Laden?” I heard they’re already filming a follow-up sequel:
No fucking shit you’re going to ruin your health by eating fast food three times a day every damn day. That’s why the average person only eats it once a week, sometimes twice. Anyone who does eat it that frequently deserves to die of a heart attack, and I’m very disappointed that Spurlock didn’t. Now we’ve got impressionable nitwits going around saying “OMG this movie was so eye-opening for me! I’m never eating fast food again!” Even more annoying are the assholes who have read “Fast Food Nation.” I admit to reading this during my one semester in college, and I also concede that it told me some things I didn’t know, like how Walt Disney and former McDonald’s CEO Ray Kroc were in the same Army medic platoon during World War 2. But these pushy obnoxious pricks who take the book like gospel really grate on my nerves. Everyone knows somebody like this. You’re with your crew and you decide to stop at a fast food place for a quick bite to eat. This person will come in with you, they may even order a burger. The whole time you’re eating, they’ll whine about “You know that’s not real food, right?” Living in Philly, I had to hear “The chemical plant for those fries is right off the New Jersey Turnpike!” I almost had to backhand one of my friends, and I’m a pretty easygoing guy in real life. Yes, I know it’s made from chemicals, yes I know those chemicals are bad for me. I don’t let the fear of death dictate my decisions in life. I live for right now. The only reason most people even fear death is because they worry their “god” will deem them unworthy of entering his “kingdom” and send them to hell to be punished by his arch-enemy Satan. Fuck it. It doesn’t matter how long you live. What matters is what you do during those years. A guy could die at 30 and accomplish more than someone who’s lived for 100 years. Who’d want to be stuck on this shithole for 100 years anyway? If you’re over 100 years old and you’re not begging to be put out of your misery, you need to stop taking your Prozac or whatever bullshit pills you’ve had forced upon you.
What does it matter to others if I choose to eat fast food anyway? Why are they so concerned about my well-being? If I’m going worry about the toxic chemicals in fast food, I might as well stop breathing the polluted air, stop drinking the drug-ridden water, or stop eating the pesticide and steroid contaminated food. Hell, I might as well stay indoors for the rest of my life. After all, I could die in a car wreck or contract a deadly disease! Granted, it’s fucked up that we’ve come to accept this as a part of life, but I’m not going to inconvenience myself just to add a few years to my lifespan. I could walk out to go get the mail and be struck dead by one of the reckless idiots who drives around the area like they own the place. Yeah bitch in the purple minivan, I’m talking about you. If I die today, I have the satisfaction of knowing that I enjoyed myself for the most part. I’m not going to stop eating fast food just because some asshole says it’s bad for me. I’m in no danger of dying any time soon. And if your stomach is so weak that you can’t eat fast food, you’re just a pussy, plain and simple. Yes, pussy is synonymous with vegan and vegetarian.
Oh, and as for the stereotypes about Americans being fat pigs, I hear the fast food places do very well in countries like France.