it affects the topic i am about to write about.
i have had more pleas to pontificate about this topic than any other in my brief blogging history. the envelope please:
the KFC susan g komen fried chicken for the cure bucket.
i haven't even written about the KFC double down sandwich, yet, and that's just begging for me to rip it apart.
critically! i meant critically. oh god, just the thought of ripping it apart either with my hands or my teeth makes my blood go all greasy (then again, ripping it apart sexually... that might be the next trend in the 25-to-lifer's repertoire. the new guy on cell block D can breathe a little easier in the shower. all the corn holin's going down in the mess hall on chicken night).
but here we are only a few weeks after the unveiling of meat bread aka the chicken bacon fleshlight, and the colonel has teamed up with a breast cancer awareness fundraising group.
where do i begin?
perhaps with the contradiction inherent in pairing up a charitable organization that promotes a cure for cancer and a corporate franchise that promotes a diet that probably gives you cancer?
maybe i should discuss what a shock to my american system it was to see the iconic red and white bucket of dead chicken parts made over in shades of pink, and how the colonel's fancy pants neck tie thing, makes him look not so much like a southern gentlemen when he's done up in pink pastel, but more like a 65 year old lesbian.
maybe i should explain how afraid i am that we are one step away from breast cancer ribbon shaped bacon and pink ranch dressing between our breaded and fried chicken tits (or within our breaded and fried chicken masturbation aides, as the case may be, but chicken ejaculate comes later... cums later? someone want to explain to me why i impose the fast food industry and the porn industry upon each other so often in my life. moving on...).
maybe i'm appalled by something that one of the voters pointed out, which oddly i was thinking right before i read his email. maybe i'm appalled by the notion of women going in for a cancer screening, and having their funbags poked and prodded by greasy fried chicken covered fingers. the oily crumbs in your armpits mean she cares. now go home and see how fast your husband wants to suck on your all white meat boneless tenders, now that you smell like the dumpster behind KFC (someone want to explain to me why i use the phrase "smells like the dumpster behind KFC" so often in my life?). just watch out for his blue cheese ranch dipping sauce. it stings if it gets in your eyes.
should i be appalled that susan g komen encourages you not only to walk 60 miles in 3 days, but also to participate in things like team in training, and other organizations and activities that get you out and active, whereas KFC encourages you to replace your bread course with a second meat course, and eat so much deep fried chicken that they need to serve it to you in a fuckin' bucket?
perhaps i should be outraged that just because KFC is the most visible counter-sponsor for susan g, it is not the only. no, no. susan g komen's sponsorship goes all the way up to the general. general mills, who bring you such mammary euphemistic parts of your complete breakfast as lucky charms, and reese's puffs cereal (yeah, you'll be calling boobs lucky charms and reese's puffs soon enough). general mills, who bring you such healthy breast nicknames as gushers fruit snacks (in reality the candy is more akin to giant, edible, malignant tumors. now stomping out cancer in delicious razznipple red, and candy cantalobe), and hamburger helper (in this case, your sweater meat is the hamburger... look, they're helping!).
komen is also sponsored by one of the general's other major brands, yoplait, who offer such probably cancer causing treats as trix yogurt, and go-gurt (known in the UK as frubes... true, and just see how fast you start calling boobs "frubes").
komen is also sponsored by frito-lay. remember them? they invented anal leakage.
now, whether susan g komen is using these companies for their money, or these companies are using komen to gloss over their reputations, or there is some notion of saving the corporate soul, or that has been cast aside and the corporations are just seeking to expand their markets to the health and lifestyle conscious demographics, who really knows. all i know is that this is about as close as we've come as a religious species to seeing some "god" and some "devil" strike a deal at the cost of the citizens of their kingdom.
but so far, none of this stuff appalls me, really, because none of it really shocks me, though i will admit to having a total WTF moment when i saw that big pink bucket in the colonel's window.
what really gets me about the susan g colonel breasts for boobs thing, is the commodification of breasts in general. they have become marginalized by 2 groups for which astrodomes are the main focus of their business model.
if not for tatas, susan g komen would have to get oscar mayer to sponsor their prostate cancer fundraiser (hotdogs are made of rectum, you know...).
if chickens didn't have such delectable bra rockets, those seven secret herbs and spices would only adorn the lowly leg and wing bits (the wings with bones, boneless wings are just hacked up chesticle meat).
does it not seem like a contradiction to the people at susan g, that they are trying to save the shoulder boulders in order to save lives and promote proud womanhood, while KFC's entire business is based around killing, skinning, and cutting off a chicken's snuggle bunnies and preparing them to eat, then telling their customers that you aren't man enough unless you eat an entire bucket's worth?
hey, i'm on susan g's side here, so far as i can be (in this case we can ignore how much i hate brand name charity, as mentioned a few posts ago). i am a big fan of everlasting gobstoppers, but the notion that we should save our own milk duds at the cost of a systematic slaughter of another species for the sole purpose of mutilating and consuming their jell-o jigglers is counter productive.
it's yet another example of the religious empowerment of the human race. not that there's anything inherently religious about any of this, but i tend to believe that religion is the most potent source of our species' superiority complex over the rest of the animal kingdom.
but it gets even weirder when you look at the specifics, not just that we are saving the hooters by eating at hooters, but that we are attempting to stop an affliction that causes the cells of the breasts to mutate and grow out of control, eventually killing the animal, by encouraging an industry that causes the cells of the breasts to mutate and grow out of control, eventually killing the animal.
factory raised poultry is pumped so full of hormones and chemicals and medicines in order to ensure big juicy brownie points, that the bird's girl scout cookies grow so large as to completely inhibit its ability to move, as well as breed.
factory raised poultry is artificially inseminated. odd? fuck yes, that's odd! at what point does hiring a guy to squirt sriracha sauce up a hen's chicken soft taco, thousands of times a day, become more cost feasible than just feeding the chickens and letting them roam around and build up their muscles on their own?
or even simply selling a slightly smaller chicken breast to the public.
wazzah?
but we're americans and we like our hood ornaments huge, our windbreakers puffy, our tetons grand, and our warheads nuclear. we like 2 scoops of raisins, and vitamin D milk. we prefer our macaroons coconut, please, and our umlauts uber-. we drive with the high beams on, we like 10 gallon hats, and hefty cinch saks, and as great a euphemism as kumquats is, we don't even know what a kumquat is. you know why? because kumquats are tiny, leathery little things, and we don't take kindly to no tiny leathery little things 'round these here parts.
i've seen turkey breasts that, if they were the pectorals on a human male, that man could put a hurtin' on shaq with one hand tied behind his back, but he'd have to bend over to do so. on the other end of the spectrum, if they were the watermelon bubble yums of a human female, her ability to breed would certainly not be inhibited, as she would almost certainly be a porn star. and these are the jigga what's of a turkey. admittedly, the turkey is a large bird, but i'm talking about gun boats that would make you say, "wow, that ostrich is stacked to the rafters!".
so there you have it. lesbian colonel sanders, and brand name charity aside, what really tweaks my udders about this whole thing, is how a really great idea like curing breast cancer, promoting a healthy and active lifestyle, and encouraging pride in womanhood has finally jumped the shark, and sold out to a corporation that, in every way, promotes the exact opposite end of the spectrum.
if we keep this up, the closest thing we're going to get to sexy women is a pair of extra crispy tenders, and a double down sandwich, extra ranch, please!
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