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Author Topic: ME.................  (Read 672 times)

DOWNY COOLEY

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ME.................
« on: November 19, 2004, 02:56:25 AM »
TV has never been on DOWNY’s good list. It’s an instrument of stupidity, probably one of the most influential mechanisms responsible for the “dumbing down” of America. But aside from that, three specific things about TV have been pissing DOWNY off lately. Here they are folks:

The Burger King Angus Commercial.

Let’s get something straight right off the bat: the word “Angus” is not a flattering term for food. To illustrate, when I went to Burger King the lady on the drive through speaker said, “Hello sir, would you like to try an anus burger today?”

“Um, come again?”

“Would you like to try an ANGUS burger?”

“No thanks. Go #@!* yourself.”

See what I mean? If it rhymes with “anus,” it cannot possibly be appetizing.

This relates to TV because of the stupid “Dr. Angus” commercials Burger King has been airing to promote the Anus Burger. Dr. Angus is some dipshit who says that you will be happy if you eat Burger King Angus burgers. I would probably be “happy” if I snorted an ounce of cocaine, or if I stole a Ferrari, or if I beat the sh*t out of Peter Parker. Enjoying these things does not imply that doing them would be a good idea (except the last). Eating an “Angus Diet” might taste good, but it will also reduce you to a withering corpse at the hands of cardiac disease, obesity and cancer.

#@!* you, Dr. Angus.

In addition, Dr. Angus says that you have a “Burger Bill of Rights” that ensures your meal is cooked to your specification. Well, I tested this theory and the results were dismal. I asked for my burger to be prepared with onion rings on top of the patty, with bleu cheese baked into the beef and with a slice of Colby Jack cheese instead of the typical sh*t cheese Burger King usually has. Well, the nice man at the counter informed DOWNY that none of these things were possible, unless I wanted to buy an order of onion rings and place them on the burger myself. I then grabbed the Burger Bill of Rights (which is printed on all the placemats at Burger King) and showed it to him. He said there was “nothing I can do, but here is a card if you want to express your opinion.” Well, I did. I wrote “#@!* you Dr. Anus” and put it in the bin.

Not wanting to give up just yet, I asked the man at the counter if I could at least have some barbeque sauce. “No, sorry, that’s only for chicken nuggets. Otherwise it’s twenty-five cents.” Somehow this doesn’t conform to the wonderland Dr. Angus talked about on TV.


The Fake Doctor in Medicine Commercials.

Since we’re on the topic of fake doctors, I thought I’d express my feelings about the guy who says some pill will cure you of everything. It goes something like this:

Dr. Dipshit (white beard, wearing a white lab coat): “This pill is clinically proven to heal your pain and help you get your life back.”

Text on Bottom of Screen: “Dr. Dipshit is not a real physician.”

What? Then who the #@!* is he? Why is he qualified to assess my medical needs? He looks like Colonel Sanders, but there’s no way the Colonel would stoop to such levels, even if business was bad. Who is the mysterious Dr. Dipshit? He could be a janitor, the guy who invented the pill, or maybe a bum that was paid in Saltine crackers. It’s anyone’s guess who this turdbag is, but one thing is certain- he should not be promoting medicine.

In fact, I have to question why anyone would buy pills from Dr. Dipshit. “Hmmmm, this guy has never met me, has no knowledge of my allergies or medical history and is not a real doctor. Wow, I trust him when he says I really need this pill!”

Don’t trust this guy, for all you know he might be DOWNY.


The Old Man and The Starving Children Commercial.

Its happened to all of us- you come home with a big sack of KFC, sit in front of the TV and tear into some Popcorn Chicken. Then, out of the blue, some old man walking around a poor village in Africa starts telling you about all the starving kids in the world. Right when you bite into that delicious KFC biscuit, you see a kid who weighs 2 pounds and hear the old man say something like,

 “Mobutu is starving. Look into his eyes.”

*sounds of DOWNY eating chicken*

The old man looks into the screen, as if shocked that I am still eating.

“Last week this little girl was so hungry that she ate her brother. Now that he’s gone she only eats rocks and camel sh*t.”

*sounds of DOWNY eating a biscuit*

“What?! You insensitive prick! How can you eat that when all of Africa is starving! SAVE THE CHILDREN!! IT’S ONLY A DOLLAR A DAY!!”

A dollar a day, huh? Well, crack costs a dollar a day too, but I don’t buy it (not everyday, at least). Just think of what else you could spend that dollar on. Like “Homeys,” which are rubber figures of gangbangers that cost fifty cents out of a machine at the grocery store.

Plus, what have starving children ever done for you? Ask yourself this, when you were really in a jam, like when you locked yourself out of your apartment, where were the starving children? Did they walk out of the bushes with a spare key? Didn’t think so.

Just last week I had a flat tire on the freeway and pulled over to change it. Did any starving children offer to help? Not one.

In addition, the old man is not starving. He is not a child. In fact, he is a rather well-dressed white guy who is very careful not to touch the children so that he doesn’t get flies on his hand. Why would I give this meanie my money? He’s only going to spend it on scotch anyway.

Basically, it’s just bad form to guilt-trip people into giving you money. Let me eat my KFC in peace. I don’t show up and demand money from the starving children when they’re eating dirt. Respect my boundaries, meanie.