Just one beef today, but it is now close to a personal vendetta.
Biodegradable kitchen garbage bags, you can eat a thousand dicks and wash them down with a thousand more.
My significant other (we take most of our relationship phraseology from Limp Bizkit albums) is a bit of an environmentalist. As such, she made the executive decision to purchase biodegradable garbage bags for the food waste in our kitchen. I snorted derisively at her decision. “What’s wrong with hiding our food scraps and animal bones under our neighbour’s porch,” I asked? “The raccoons aren’t going to feed themselves.”* She explained to me that the biodegradable bags would be perfect because, unlike indestructible and polluting plastic bags, they would disappear in the landfill and not cause any environmental problems. Sound logic, I guess. And like a sucker, I bought it.
Cue this morning. The Three Dollar Bill Y’All significant other reminded me before she left for work that the garbage had to be put out. She also informed me that “the green bin garbage really stinks so be sure to take it out.” I nodded in agreement and went back to sleep. When I woke up an hour later, comically late for work, I rushed to get ready and was about to step out the door when I remembered the reminder I had received about the garbage. In a full suit and tie, I proceeded to the green bin, grabbed the top of the overflowing biodegradable garbage bag, and pulled it out of the bin. Well, to be accurate, I didn’t really pull the bag out of the bin. Instead, I pulled the top half of the bag from the bottom half as the bag disintegrated in my hand, spilling garbage all around our kitchen. Oooh, rotten tomatoes on the floor! Ohhh, coffee grounds on my dress pants! Wow, chicken bones on my shoe! Thanks, biodegradable garbage bags. I would assume that the biodegrading would not happen within days or hours of initial use, but hey, that’s a crass, insensitive assumption that we non-environmentalists are known to make. Why bother with a biodegradable bag? Why not just sell air in a box and sell it to the gullible public? It would have the same effect and be more environmentally-friendly, but without the unnecessary illusion of actual usefulness? Eat shit and die, you hippie bag-making fucks. I cleaned up the garbage and put it in a sturdy, half-life-of-a-billion-years plastic bag. If only I knew where the bag company’s owner lived, I would have put it on his porch. On fire. With a lump of my shit on top. On fire. Next week I am going to skip the garbage bag altogether. I will simply hollow out a seal pup and fill it until it’s ready to be disposed. Then I’m going to beat Captain Planet to death with the carcass. Cheers.
Butter Chicken, hunting for trash bags
* This is a lie. They will feed themselves. Then they will steal your wallet, rape your children and evict your from your house. They are intelligent and evil animals.
The holiday season is nearly upon us and the onslaught of Christmas commercialism is already in full swing. Seems like you can’t turn on the television these days without seeing ad after ad for the newest and shiniest children’s toys.
But as a concerned parent*, you’re probably wondering: What toys are the right ones for my kids? Will this Incredible Hulk Mask sufficiently stimulate my child’s intellectual development so that he will get into the right school and later secure a lucrative job in the private equity finance industry, or at least stay out of the porn industry?
Well, look no further! The editors of Food Court Lunch have scoured the shelves of North America’s finest stores (yep, Brookstone and Younkers) to bring you an insider’s look at the hottest new toys that will undoubtedly be found under Christmas Trees, Jewish Candelabras and/or Kwanzaa rims across the country this holiday season.
(*Let’s be honest – if you were really a concerned parent, then you’d probably be making your kids’ lunches for school or worrying about your mortgage instead of wasting your life away reading a website that comes up in Google searches for “Mickelson Boobs”, “Jaleel White” and “Stars without Makeup”.)
For the Adventure Seekers:
Not very fond of your kids? Looking for ways to teach your kids a valuable lesson about socialized health care or long-term disability benefits? Or maybe you’re just trying to get on America’s Funniest Videos. Either way, you’ll want to pick up a GT Sno-Racer before the snow falls.
Sure, they look innocent enough, but don’t be fooled by appearances. What appears to be nothing more than a snow toboggan that a child rides like a snowmobile is in fact the single most unstable and dangerous vehicle ever designed by man. Hey, is that a brake? Sure son, I guess you could call it a “brake”. But then you’d be discounting its remarkable launching capabilities. Hey dad! It has a steering wheel! Can we get one, dad? Sure, son. Hop right on. That’s right. Now inch up to the precipice. Don’t be scared; just steer into the abyss. What’s that? What’s an abyss? How the fuck should I know? And stop calling me dad.
For Daddy’s Lazy Little Lard-Ass:
Concerned that your children are getting too much fresh air and exercise? Worried that you’re not doing enough to prepare your children for the convergent realities of obesity and urban sprawl? Why not help your kids get an early start on that life of sedentary crapulence by getting them the latest in ambling transportation from Powerwheels!
You’re singing the Powerwheels jingle in your head right now, aren’t you: Pow-Pow-Powerwheels! Pow-Pow-Powerwheels! Pow-Pow-Power makes ’em go! That’s right! Crush that motherfucker!
Don’t worry: there’s no effort required on the part of your lazy, non-dues-paying kids. Just make sure to get the reinforced axle feature and the large cupholders. Oh, and you might want to pick up some insulin while you’re out.
For the Sexually Confused Adolescent:
The Chia Pet has been around for decades. I mean, who doesn’t love watching minute shrubbery sprout from a terracotta animal at a glacial pace? Your kids can expect hours of enjoyment from a Chia Pet (or, more likely, one brief moment of enjoyment when your mouthy teen girl smashes the Chia Pet on the kitchen floor because, apparently, daddy doesn’t understand her.)
Don’t worry, dad – Chia’s got you covered: Buy her the new Chia “Changes” Anatomically-Correct Pubescent Doll. She just might learn a thing or two about puberty, and your family will have delicious fresh herbs all winter long.
For the Hesitant Young Reader:
A common complaint for young readers is that there is a lack of verissimilitude in the books directed at them in school. Today’s kids want an honest look at the real problems they face on a daily basis: drug use, sexual promiscuity, racism. Well, look no further than Judy Blume for a great gift idea.
In her new book, Are You There, Mr. Goodell? It’s Me, Pacman, Judy Blume examines the pressures facing a young cornerback trying to make it in a world fraught with temptation and danger. But don’t worry, parents; there’s a really uplifting message behind this book – one that will teach your children that even when it seems like everything you do just seems to make it rain harder, you’ll always get a second chance.
For the Child of an Awesomely Cool Parent:
Let’s face it: If it were up to your 4-year-old son, he’d probably walk around in the same Bob the Builder t-shirt and Wonderpets sweatpants every day of his life. But you’re the dad, and you’re too cool to let that happen. Your son may not yet appreciate the hipster values that you will one day instill in him, but you’ll be goddamned if people aren’t going to know just how cool you are based on the fucking awesome t-shirts you put on your kid.
He may not even have ever heard a Neutral Milk Hotel album or a Clash album, but at least everyone who sees your kid will know how awesomely cool your music collection is. And after all, isn’t your kid just an extension of your own ego?
For the Child of a Parent Who, Quite Frankly, Has Neither the Time Nor the Inclination to Give a Fuck About What The Child is Interested In:
Garnett: turning white and pastey into a red paste
Kevin Garnett’s loathing of those without pigment has been discussed in this blog before. North American, European — it doesn’t matter as long as you are white and get in KG’s way. He hates you, plain and simple. Now, our brothers from Down Under are the newest victims of The Big Ticket:
For safety’s sake, Bogut should just take up volleyball. Or polo. Or the Australian version of polo, known commonly as “Gallipolo”.
Current New York Knicks’ suit-wearer and all-around whack job Stephon Marbury recently expressed an interest in joining the San Antonio Spurs. We’re pretty sure we know how that would work out.
(Tim Duncan, Tony Parker, Matt Bonner and Stephon Marbury all sit around a poker table)
Duncan: Alright, everybody. Before we get started, I’d like to take this opportunity to welcome our newest teammate, Stephon, to what we hope will be his first of many appearances at our “infamous” Friday night poker games. But I should warn you beforehand, Stephon – these games can get pret-ty wild.
Parker: Yes, are you sure you can ‘andle eet?
Marbury: I guess we’ll see.
Bonner: (sly smile) Hey Stephon – you look thirsty. Why don’t you have a sip of your iced tea?
(Duncan, Parker and Bonner all start giggling)
Marbury: Why? What’s wrong with it?
Bonner: Oh, nothing…that is, if you like Tabasco sauce in it!
(Duncan, Parker and Bonner burst out laughing)
Marbury: Wow. You guys are crazy.
Parker: Oh, you don’t know zee ‘alf of eet!
Duncan: Alright, alright, enough funny stuff. Here we go. (deals cards) Matt, bet’s to you.
Bonner: Umm…fifty cents!
Parker: Zut alors!
Duncan: Slow down, Matt! It’s only the first hand!
Bonner: If you can’t take the heat, Timmy, then stay out of Matt’s kitchen!
Parker: Too reech for my blood. Fold.
Marbury: Hmm. Let’s see. I will raise you…$400,000.
Bonner: (spits out iced tea)
Duncan: Uh, Stephon? We usually play with a $1 max bet.
Marbury: Well, now there’s a new max bet. What’s the point of making all this money if you ain’t gonna play with it? Besides, I know Raggedy Andy here doesn’t spend no money on clothes, wearing that Cosby sweater.
Bonner: Hey! My grandma knitted this!
Marbury: I don’t doubt it. C’mon, you in?
Marbury: Well what?
Bonner: (slams fist on table) What the heck! In!
Duncan: Matt! That’s a lot of money!
Bonner: I know, but…(winks at Duncan)…I’m pretty sure he’s bluffing.
Marbury: (lays down cards) Full house.
Marbury: (gathering pot) Tough break, brah.
Duncan: Uh, guys, maybe we should keep the bets to a…
Marbury: Oh shit!
Duncan: What is it?
Marbury: I just remembered – I left something in my backseat! I’ll be right back… (runs out front door)
Duncan: Matt…are you okay? You look pale…er.
(Fifteen minutes later. Marbury re-enters room)
Marbury: Sorry about that, fellas. Whose deal is it?
Duncan: And Stephon, we discussed it, and we think we should stick to the $1 max bets.
Marbury: Fine, whatever.
Duncan: (to Marbury) So what’d you forget?
Marbury: What’s that?
Duncan: In your backseat. What’d you forget?
Marbury: Oh, that. That Eva Longoria lady.
Parker: Pardon moi?
Marbury: You know – that chick from Desperate Housewives? I met her at the convenience store on the way over, one thing led to another, and we went back to my car. You know how it goes. But then I realized, “shit! I ain’t got no protection on me!” So I ran up here to grab some, but when I came in and saw you guys playing that weird Space Invaders shit…
Marbury: ….yeah, when I saw you guys wearing them funny little headsets, it kind of freaked me out, and I totally forgot what I came up here for. So I just had to run down and take care of business, if you feel me.
Duncan: Eva is Tony’s wife!
Marbury: Say what?
Duncan: They’re married!
Marbury: You don’t say. Wild, man.
Parker: Bullsheet! I don’t beleeve heem!
Marbury: Look, man, I ain’t in the business of needing to lie about that shit, but if you need proof I got the pics right here on my phone.
Parker: Let me see zose! (looks at phone, moans softly) Oh…oh mon amour! (gets up) Je m’excuse. (runs into bathroom and slams door)
Bonner: Stephon! That was not cool!
Marbury: Take it easy, man, I didn’t know. And besides, we teammates now, and that means we s’posed to share shit. You don’t see me complaining about having to share my tabs with y’all.
Duncan: What tabs?
Marbury: What’chu mean ‘what tabs’? Acid, man. You telling me you don’t feel that shit yet?
Duncan: (blanches) Stephon, what are you talking about?
Marbury: I put acid in the iced tea, fool! What, you think we wuz just going to sit around here and play poker for nickels all night? It’s Friday, man! We got to fuck…shit…up!
Bonner: Timmy? I…I feel funny.
Duncan: Quick! Matt! Make yourself throw up!
Marbury: Aw, it’s too late for that now. You best just lay back and enjoy the trip. Y’all in good hands, babies. Just let Captain Starbury take you on a little tour of the galaxy.
(Scream comes from the bathroom. Parker comes running back out, naked from the waist down)
Duncan: Jeez Louise, Tony! What’s wrong?
Parker: (panicked) It flew away!
Duncan: What are you talking about?
Parker: My pee-niz! It flew out zee bathroom weendow! It flew out zee weendow, and zen zee toilet peed on me!
Marbury: Yeah, the shit I got will fuck with you like that.
Duncan: Alright! Everybody just calm down! We’ll get through this! Um…uh…Matt! Open the window! I’ll boil some tea!
Bonner: (staring in amazement at his own sweater) So many patterns…so many colours…
Parker: Zere it is! (points to window) It just flew past and winked at me! (runs and crashes through window) YEEAAAGGGHHH!
Duncan: TONY! Matt, go see if he’s okay!
Bonner: (lies down on floor, begins rubbing sweater on face)
Duncan: Stephon! What have you done!?!
Marbury: (calmly rolling blunt) So who we playing tomorrow, man? Phoenix?
(Next February. Spurs’ broadcasters Bill Land and Sean Elliott report from courtside)
Land: …and once again, your final score is Minnesota 114, San Antonio 58. It’s the Spurs’ record-obliterating 32nd straight loss, meaning they still have not won a game since dealing for Stephon Marbury back in November. Any thoughts on this one, Sean?
Elliott: Not much you really can say at this point, Bill.
Land: It’s certainly a collapse of historic proportions. And the off-the-court distractions can’t be helping, what with the hepatitis outbreak in the locker room, Matt Bonner’s suspension and looming criminal prosecution for narcotics possession, and the baffling retirement and return to France of point guard Tony Parker. Just a nightmarish fall from grace for this once-proud dynasty. Say, here comes Spurs’ head coach Gregg Popovich, let’s see if we can’t get a word. Pop, got a minute?
Popovich: (shell-shocked) I have stared into the eyes of the devil himself, and it was I who blinked first. Now he owns my soul, and I know a fear far greater than death. A fear far greater than death. (wanders away)
Land: Well said, coach. And that’s it from San Antonio. Tune in Friday when the Spurs welcome the visiting Los Angeles Lakers. That one could break some records, folks, you won’t want to miss it.
Well, it has been a long road, but our work is nearly complete – a clean sweep at the 2008 Canadian Blog Awards is virtually assured at this point. In the event that you have been living in a cave for the past week (or you are one of the billions of people who don’t read our site… Or you are one of the 5 people who do read our site but you suffer from short-term memory deficit disorder), Food Court Lunch has launched an all-out blitzkrieg offensive against the Canadian Blog Awards. Our mission: (i) to qualify for every single award category, (ii) to destroy the competition in each of the aforesaid categories, and (iii) to parlay our unprecedented success into a made-for-TV movie starring Tony Danza, John Goodman, Moby and Bob Barker. Ambitious? Perhaps (except for the Moby part), but we are nothing if not motivated (and sexually inadequate).
So what’s left? We have already covered the key categories, including “Best Activities Blog”, “Best Feminist Blog”, “Best Religious / Philosophical Blog” and, of course, “Best Virgin Blog”. But there are still a few categories near and dear to our hearts that we have yet to (officially) conquer. It is time, my friends, that Food Court Lunch formally enters the arena of “Best Disability Blog”… Nervous?
As our loyal reader knows all to well, we have long been a beacon of hope in the internet sea of anti-disability blog sites. Indeed, many would call us heroes. And they would be entirely justified in doing so. Well said, many. But our expansive fan-base in the disability community is not the product of luck. Nay, it comes from being a mouthpiece for our own kind. For each author of this site is, pursuant to our founding charter and recently enacted by-laws, “disabled”. Oh sure, perhaps not in the “official” sense of the word. And perhaps not in the “unofficial” sense of the word. Perhaps not even in the “English” sense of the word. But I am not here to play semantic games (on the contrary, I am here (apparently) to make light of people with disabilities…). So before God strikes me down at my keyboard, allow me to explain.
Dictionary.com, that bastion of wordsmithin’, defines a “disability” as a “lack of adequate power, strength, or physical or mental ability”. Suffice it to say that the Food Court Lunch team lacks many a mental and physical ability. While there is not enough internet space to list them all, we thought it was time to share some of these failings with the masses (and the judges of the CBAs…):
pedal gigantism (a.k.a. footis maximus)
post-foetal alcohol syndrome
Paris Hilton eye
fat butt (a.k.a. bootius maximus)
Germanic Voice Immodulation (“GVI”)
Height Deficit Disorder (“HDD”)
Christian Slater hairline
In conclusion, our site has always been, and will always be, devoted to disability issues. Please enjoy responsibly.
Police and racism – that’s your hot button topic for the day. Are police racist? Do they disproportionately target minorities when it comes to the enforcement of the law? Are certain races treated differently than others? Will law enforcement look the other way when whites commit certain crimes, but crack down when those crimes are committed by others?
Umm, yes. And I thank my lucky stars for it. I’m white and I can pretty well get away with murder, as long as it isn’t the murder of another white person. I’m stabbing a vaguely Hispanic homeless man as I write this, and a cop walked by and asked if I needed my knife sharpened. We laughed, talked about country and western music, and then I went on with my stabbing. This albino skin of mine is like a “get out of jail free” card.
However, I wasn’t talking about the police-police. I was talking about the other police – the Fun Police.
If you are old like me, you remember these guys: NBA basketball stars from the 1990s who went out of their way to ensure that basketball was fun for everyone (and to shill Nike products in the course of their adventures). Everybody loves this kind of police force, right? Well, everyone who loves a RACIST!!!!
Racist? It’s a strong accusation, I will grant you that. However, I think that a good argument can be made that a prominent member of the Fun Police has serious problems with people of a different skin colour. No, I’m not talking about Tom Gugliotta, although I do hear he’s a virulent homophobe, which is an entirely different kettle of fish.* Instead, I’m talking about the leader of the Fun Police, Mr. Kevin Garnett.
What’s that, you say? Kevin Garnett — racist? A spurious accusation unsupported by anything except rumour and conjecture and selectively chosen YouTube videos? Okay, I’ll give you that, but hear me out. Everyone is willing to overlook Garnett’s racism (or “Fun Police Brutality”) because he’s the NBA champ, but I can’t hide my head in the sand any longer. We are avoiding the obvious here. Kevin Garnett hates white people.
Granted, it’s an annoying name. Perhaps having it is even a punchable offence. Kevin Garnett certainly thinks so. Scrimmage or not, KG will not tolerate repetition in his nomenclature. Tim Thomas, thank your lucky stars that there is an “i” in your first name.
Kevin and Matt got into a little under-the-basket scrap a few seasons ago when Matt was playing for the Raptors. Granted, this was 99% Bonner’s fault, but it serves my theory so go fuck yourself.
3. Wally Szczerbiak
Sure, Wally appears to be a smaller, swarthier version of Christian Laettner, but that’s not really an excuse to punch him, is it, Kevin? You were teammates at the time, you know. I’m sure Brian Scalabrine has been sleeping with one eye open for the past year and a half knowing you’re around.
It’s not just North American whites that have borne the brunt of Garnett’s racist anger. Europeans are now beginning to feel his prejudiced wrath.
4. Zaza Pachulia
I take everything back with respect to what I said about Rick Rickert having a punchable name. Zaza Pachulia, you combine the image of a terrible 60’s actress with the smell of a guy who just tried to sell me pot. Congratulations. KG hates you, whitey.
5. Jose Calderon
Sure, I will agree that Jose has his own race issues to deal with, but Kevin Garnett’s taunting of Mr. Calderon makes it clear that La Policia Diversion is no fan of los hombres blanco.
You might think that I am deliberately picking on Officer Garnett. Well, you try to find another reference to Garnett get into a confrontation with another player — it’s difficult.** I’d like to think that the above incidents are anomalies, but instead it’s the same-old, same-old –a Fun Police-sanctioned “incident” with a white player that get swept under the rug. My Caucasian basketball-playing brothers — take care of yourselves. The Man (formerly know as The Kid) is going to try to beat you down. When you see him coming at you on the court, you just keep on walking, because when the Fun Police has you in their sights, you are going to end up with more than a Big Ticket.
* I have never heard that. I blame John Amaechi for the allegation, though.
* I am sure there are probably quite a few examples — I’m too lazy to find them and they undermine my premise. Also, I’m still busy stabbing that homeless guy. He just won’t die, that sturdy bastard.
Earlier this week, we disclosed our diabolical scheme to walk away with a clean sweep at this year’s Canadian Blog Awards. Since unveiling our masterplan, we have received countless (i.e., 3) e-mails from prospective rival blog sites begging us to withdraw from their respective categories for fear of being destroyed by the blogging juggernaut that is Food Court Lunch. Well guess what, “Gay & Lesbian Dog Walkers’ Blog“, “Auntie Enid’s Cooking Tips and Holiday Crafts” and “Blogs for Jesus” – we ain’t backin’ down! FCL is in it to win it (whatever “it” is), so suck it (again, whatever “it” is)!
Cartesian philiosophers have often debated whether a singular proof can be advanced in support of God’s existence. Descartes himself proffered his so-called ontological argument. It sucked, making Rene the sixth worst thing to come out of France (right behind the fad of surrendering “en masse”, and these guys).
As usual, the genii at Food Court Lunch excel where other philosophers (and other religious and/or philosophy blogs) have failed. Observe:
FCL’s Definitive Proof of God’s Existence:
Admittedly we have likely already covered off the fundamental tenets of feminism with the above photograph, but Food Court Lunch does not rest on its laurels (or anyone else’s laurels, for that matter…). To the contrary, as an exclusively feminist blog, we have always been relentless in our promotion of the feminist agenda. Indeed, our most recent staff meeting was devoted to the theory of mid-Victorian androgynist poetics and the contention that the creative mind is sexless. I believe we have a clip from the meeting:
(Bryan Colangelo stands beside a completely blindfolded Jose Calderon)
Colangelo: (shouting to be heard) ALRIGHT, JOSE! IT’S TIME!
Calderon: (also shouting) OH, YENERAL MANA-YER! I WISH TO GO BACK HOME!
Colangelo: THERE IS NO TURNING BACK NOW, JOSE! THIS IS THE FINAL STOP ON YOUR JOURNEY! YOU MUST FACE…YOUR ULTIMATE FEAR!
Calderon: (nervous) BUT…BUT I AM NO READY!
Colangelo: YOU ARE READY, JOSE! YOU ARE READY BECAUSE YOU HAVE TO BE! NOW! TAKE OFF YOUR BLINDFOLD!
(Calderon removes his blindfold. He immediately gasps and jumps back in terror, clinging on to Colangelo’s arm)
Calderon: DIOS MIO! I CAN NO DO THIS!
Colangelo: YES, YOU CAN!
Calderon: NO! I AM TOO MUCH AFRAID!
Colangelo: (slaps Jose) LISTEN TO ME! FEAR IS NOTHING BUT AN UNLOCKED DOOR! THE ONLY THING PREVENTING YOU FROM PASSING THROUGH IT…IS YOU!
Calderon: MY LEGS…THEY ARE SHAKING SO…
Colangelo: TAKE A DEEP BREATH, AND CLEAR YOUR MIND!
Calderon: IT IS SO LOUD! OH, MISHTER COLAN-YELO – MUST I?
Colangelo: OF COURSE YOU MUST! YOU HAVE COME SO FAR THESE PAST THREE YEARS, JOSE! YOU HAVE THE SKILLS! YOU HAVE THE HEART! THE ONLY THING LEFT FOR YOU TO OVERCOME IS THAT TINY LITTLE VOICE INSIDE YOU THAT STILL TELLS YOU, “YOU CAN’T”!
Colangelo: (grabs Calderon by the arms) LET ME TELL YOU SOMETHING, JOSE! SOMETHING I LEARNED FROM EXPERIENCE AT THE SUMMIT OF KANJUT SAR! WHEN A MAN CAN STARE DOWN THAT WHICH HE FEARS THE MOST, AND DEFEAT IT…CONQUER IT…LAUGH IN ITS FACE…THEN AND ONLY THEN DOES HE BECOME TRULY UNSTOPPABLE! DO YOU WISH TO BECOME UNSTOPPABLE?
Colangelo: DO YOU WISH TO KNOW HOW IT FEELS TO BE TRULY ALIVE?
Calderon: I DO!
Colangelo: THEN…STEP TO THE EDGE!
(Calderon takes a deep breath, and takes a step forward)
Colangelo: CLOSE YOUR EYES!
(Calderon closes his eyes and raises his arms at his side)
Calderon: (crosses himself) PARA MI FAMILIA!
(Calderon steps onto the dance floor and walks over to gorgeous brunette)
Calderon: (tapsbrunette on shoulder) Excuse m-me, b-but…could I interest you to…(trails off)
Woman: (shouting) WHAT? I CAN’T HEAR YOU!
Calderon: (breath quickens)I…er…not to bother, but…smell go good…(pitch of voice rising)…uh…low-post screen…eh, um…my teammates mean so much to me…
Of course, it was also a year ago that we were shut out in all other categories (notwithstanding our selfless contributions to the fields of entertainment, sports, Canadian culture and comedy in the months leading up to last year’s competition). An unnamed source (let us call him “Chutter Bicken“) has since advised us that his research clearly demonstrates that the fix was in last year. Apparently the powers-that-be were too scared of the truth machine that is Food Court Lunch and paid off the internet intelligentsia in a covert conspiracy of epic proportions designed to keep our humble website from attaining its true glory. An alternative theory is that we have no readers, no friends and no family members skilled enough to use the internet for voting purposes. We’ll likely never know the truth, so it’s probably not worth spending too much time on. Let’s just say that both are equally plausible theories.
Regardless of which diabolical forces were responsible for last year’s abysmal showing at the CBAs, we here at Food Court Lunch vow that it shall never happen again. How can we be so certain, you ask? Because this year we are going to work harder than ever before, write like the wind, inject creativity into all of our posts and, above all, threaten and/or bribe anything that moves. Even your mother. Also, we are going to spread ourselves around like the village whore…
As in 2007, we have nominated ourselves for the “traditional” categories: Best Blog, Best Group Blog, Best Sports Blog, Best Cultural Blog, Best Entertainment Blog, Worst Waste of Internet Space, Most Popular Site For Virgins, Best Cinematography. But we didn’t stop there. We didn’t dare, after last year’s fiasco. No, this year we have nominated ourselves for every category available!!! Genius? Perhaps.
Of course, having put very little (sober) thought into this scheme, we have since learned that the nominated blog actually needs to “qualify” for the category in which it is nominated. Apparently the Nazis at the CBAs demand that the site content correspond to the named category. Fascists! See you in hell, bastardos! In the interim, we will not be undone by your “rules” and your “logic” and your “cease and desist letters”. No, we will play your little game by conforming to your so-called terms. Then we will play Hungry, Hungry Hippo.
And so, good readers, prepare yourselves for a rollercoaster of entertainment and a whirlwind of emotion as we desperately try to qualify for the following “Best Blog” categories:
Best Activities Blog (uninformed criticism is an activity, of sorts…)
Best Blog (done and done)
Best Blog Post (we have nominated all of our posts, including this one)
Best Blog Post Series (probably this one)
Best conservative Blog (if we are anything, it’s conservative. And racist. But mostly conservative)
Best Cultural/Entertainment Blog (we ooze culture out of our butts)
Best Disability Blog (this one could get dicey…)
Best Family Blog (we’re like the Disney Channel)
Best Feminist Blog (chicks rule!)
Best French Language Blog (vive le FCL)
Best GLBT Blog (we watch a lot of lesbian porn)
Best Group Blog (we watch a lot of lesbian porn with group scenes)
Best Health Blog (we have zero calories!)
Best Humour Blog (not liking our chances on this one…)
Best Local Blog (we’re like the local news, if you live somewhere that sucks… like Hamilton)
Best New Blog (we think of ourselves as the new kids on the block – I am Donnie)
Best Non-Partisan Blog (we are completely non-partisan in our stalwart opposition to the Bloc Quebecois, the Republicans and the French)
Best Personal Blog (Dear Diary…)
Best Photo/Art Blog (we steal all of our photos, but some are really good)
Best Podcaster/Vlogger (what’s a podcaster? It sounds like a gay Transformer)
Best Political Blog (Bush ’08!)
Best Professional/Career Blog (here’s a career tip – don’t write a blog at work)
Best progressive Blog (chicks rule!)
Best Pundit/Professional Commentator Blog (this category was made for us)
Best Religious/Philosophy Blog (we watch a lot of lesbian porn)
Best Sci/Tech Blog (we write all of our blogs in pencil)
Best Sports Blog (not a chance)
And, since time is short (with the nomination period ending on November 22, 2008), we might as well get started with our contribution to the “Best Activities Blog” category:
Do you know what we here at Food Court Lunch love? Activities! They’re the bees’ knees. Nothing beats doing stuff, like activities and such. Fishing – that’s a fun activity. And sex. And sex with fish – that’s a real swell time. Hell, I could roger a gold fish for hours. I also like hiking, flying kytes, pillaging, and other fun activities. Our website is committed to the promotion of all activities, big and small. We just love them all! So remember kids – stay off drugs, prevent forest fires, and get out there and do some activitying!
The collapse of the international markets has, if nothing else, provided us with satisfying images of rich people losing their shit. And could there be a more satisfying image than of a mink destroying a speedboat? Maybe a peacock shitting on the dashboard of a Bentley.
DISCLAIMER: In the event that you are inexplicably confused by our site, this is parody (poorly executed, but parody nonetheless). For the sake of clarity, however, please note that the opinions expressed in the Comments section of this site are NOT moderated or endorsed in any way by the authors of this site, who do not understand HTML and can scarcely manage to post items themselves