Showing posts with label Fast Food. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Fast Food. Show all posts
Thursday, March 5, 2026
Tuesday, January 6, 2026
Saturday, January 3, 2026
Sunday, October 15, 2023
Clown Grinder
Does this cheeseburger taste funny to you?
It’s ground-up clowns, the whole circus crew
There aren’t enough bottles of Pepto Bismol
To wash down the taste of Bozo’s big balls
There’s a blood-soaked war in your intestines
Bacteria and viruses with automatic weapons
Vomit your carcass inside the fuck out
Or they can exit through the Hershey Highway route
Hellfire fever immolating your soul
Acid trip dreams about your blistered asshole
Stay away from your bottle of Advil
Lest you want to drop a load heavier than an anvil
Get on the phone with the CDC
Clowns’ Decaying Corpses, eat lean beef
I hope someone sends you a Get Well card
“May your anal casualties again become hard”
Who’s in charge of the menu today?
They’ve got a billion in lawsuits to finally pay
Now you’ve got your check, so what’s for dinner?
The mind is strong, but food addiction is the winner
Get the clown grinder ready for another serving
Diarrhea Armageddon is never too unnerving
A weight loss strategy for the new age
In history books, you’re thin enough to be a page
Saturday, September 28, 2019
Eat My Beef
VERSE 1
I had a lunch date with Ronald
We ate just like The Donald
And then he whipped it out and said
“EAT MY BEEF!”
VERSE 2
We had some chicken nuggets
And then we said, “Fuck it!”
The Colonel from Kentucky
EAT MY BEEF!
VERSE 3
We ate some salty fries
And then some salty guys
Tried to shame us, but we told them to
“EAT MY BEEF!”
VERSE 4
We drank a lot of Coke
Until we almost choked
My cholesterol’s a joke, so
EAT MY BEEF!
VERSE 5
We slid into the ball pit
Even though we didn’t fit
If you really give a shit, then
EAT MY BEEF!
VERSE 6
I say fuck the heart attacks
We need a fucking snack
We’re addicted like crack, so
EAT MY BEEF!
Tuesday, January 15, 2019
Panic Attack
Like stage fright, except on the city streets
Hyper aware of the death-marching feet
Hyper aware of your own perspiration
Hyper aware of your own condensation
You wish your heart would slow down
As you blindly navigate this neon-lit town
Where’s your car? Did you walk too far?
Did you park too close to the rowdy bar?
Deep breaths in and out, you’ve got this
And then insanity takes off like a rocket
Too many people with judgmental voices
Too many cars with horn-honking noises
A dark alley is better than any of this
A fast food restaurant would be bliss
A hotel lobby to stay for this one night
Until you overcome this crippling fright
Float in the pool, let the water calm you
Watch TV, whatever show you choose
Do you feel safe to go back outside?
Feel comfortable to lock up and hide?
A working day is around the corner
No days off, it’s what the boss orders
Pulling yourself together yet again
Is hard when comfort is easier to defend
Where are your pills? Back at your house?
Only one way to truly find the fuck out
Trapped in a cage like a common thief
Trapped in a mind with paranoid beliefs
Do you need a visit to the emergency room?
Or are you forever trapped in your own doom?
The phone is right there, pull it off the cradle
Put an end to this medieval Grim Dark fable
“Nine-one-one, what’s your emergency?”
“I’m dying inside! It’s of utmost urgency!”
“I’m sending an ambulance to your location”
“Thank you for being good at your vocation”
Counting down the minutes and hours
Until you one day recharge your power
You never know when you’re coming back
Remember the name: it’s called a panic attack
Monday, February 22, 2016
Putting the Ass in Assault Rifle
Flipping hamburgers and cooking French fries at Monster Burger wasn’t doing much for Nikita Croft’s college dreams. She was only nineteen years old and was already feeling the stresses of someone four times her age. Her posture was hunched over, her eyes were baggy, and any smile she gave her customers was forced with all of her strength. Cooking unhealthy food wasn’t the bad part. Dealing with angry customers who didn’t get exactly what they wanted made Nikita wish she had a gun to put to her own head. She could picture her brains, skull, and short black hair splattering all over the restaurant walls to create her own version of modern art.
When the well-known Easton family came strutting through the glass doors, Nikita’s suicidal fantasies of using a gun on herself were replaced with eye-widening, posture-straightening fear. The chubby, buzz-cut having Luke Easton and his long blond haired wife Rachel each came in with assault rifles strapped to their backs. Their baby son Brian was being pushed in a stroller by Rachel.
The Easton family’s presence caused various patrons to slowly cower away in fear, hide behind their booths, and hide underneath their tables. Some of the clerks behind the counter had their wide eyes locked on the family while other clerks had them locked on Nikita wondering what she was going to do. She was in charge of the register at the moment, so it would only make sense that this responsibility would fall on her, weak voiced and trembling through she was.
Luke Easton squinted his eyes as he surveyed the patrons backing away from them in pants-wetting fear. “What? What the hell’s your guys’ problem? You don’t like these rifles we’ve got strapped to our backs? Tough shit! This is America! Get used to it!”
“Uh, actually, sir…” said Nikita in a shy voice before tenderly clearing her throat. “Weapons are not allowed in Monster Burger. If you want service, you’ll have to go back to your vehicle and…put them away.”
Some of the patrons were sneaking their way around on the floor and bolting out of the front doors. Others stayed in their crouched positions and whimpered helplessly. Nobody even thought about calling the cops on their smart phones due to the fear of incurring Luke and Rachel’s wrath.
“You listen here, little lady,” snapped Luke as he marched toward the counter. “Me and my family came here for some burgers and fries! We’re hungry as hell! Now you can either make them or we’re going to have a problem!”
“Sir, we will make whatever you want if you’d just…put your guns back in your vehicle,” said Nikita without even looking Luke in the eyes.
Rachel pushed baby Brian’s stroller up to the counter and got involved in the heated debate. “I don’t know what your problem is, lady, but we’re not leaving until we get our food! We’re standing up for our second amendment rights! If you don’t like what we’re doing, then we can get your ass deported back to Canada!”
Nikita’s dialogue was getting messy as she kneeled to the floor and cried her eyes out. Everybody counted on her to be the brave authoritarian, but nobody counted on the Easton family to bring weapons into the restaurant. She lifted her head up and turned to her fellow clerks before saying, “I’m sorry! I can’t do this anymore!”
“Hold on there, Nikita!” said the dress shirt and tie-wearing manager of Monster Burger, Chance Rivers. Despite the lack of enthusiasm Nikita Croft showed for her job on a regular basis, Chance had always been there for her whether she needed comfort or a short-term loan. Being a good boss to his employees was part of the reason so many would-be college students worked for him. This time was no different.
“Mr. and Mrs. Easton! I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask both of you to leave my restaurant!” said Chance with a gentle hand on Nikita’s shoulder and a firm tone to the rifle-wielding family.
“We’re not doing anything wrong!” complained Rachel. “We have just as much right to be here as all of these people!” Most of those people had cleared out of the restaurant in shirt-sweating and pants-pissing fear.
“The hell you do!” barked Chance as he jumped over the counter and got in Rachel and Luke’s faces. “You’re putting my customers and my employees in huge danger by bringing those things in here! Nobody wants to be around you two right now! I’m losing customers because nobody really wants to get accidentally shot! Or in your case, purposefully!”
Luke grabbed Chance’s shirt and slammed him against the counter while breathing heavily in and out and drooling with anger. The clerks and cooks began to scramble out of the kitchen and bolt towards the front door. Nikita on the other hand was curled up in the fetal position on the floor still shedding tears. Yes, she was suicidal earlier in the day, but that all changed when she started to see what death really looked like up close.
“I’m not going to have this argument with you, Mr. Boss Man!” yelled Luke through gritted teeth. “Either you cook our food or else we’re going to have problems!”
Chance’s frightened expression and shivering body were being beefed up with adrenaline. It was now or never for him, his employees, and his customers. The manager reached behind the corpulent Luke and tried to wrestle the gun away from him. But Luke was too powerful and showed it when he hurled Chance to the ground, causing his ribs to ache and violent coughs to sound off across the restaurant.
“Luke, calm down. It’ll be okay, sweetie,” said a nervous Rachel, who was backing away slowly. She wasn’t changing political alignments, she was a shivering mess.
Luke armed himself with his assault rifle and clicked the pump handle. He looked down at the injured Chance Rivers with disdain and fiery hatred. “I’m getting sick of you Yankee liberal motherfuckers taking my rights away! I never wanted to fire this thing off today, but I’ll be glad to…”
Luke’s raging oratory was disrupted by his gun accidentally going off. Nikita and Chance held their ears and screamed in both pain and terror. Rachel, on the other hand, looked down at her baby stroller and saw the most horrifying thing a mother could imagine. She silently shed tears and dropped to her knees, shaking and cowering over the accidental death of Brian. She slowly unhooked her assault rifle and tossed it to the ground.
Everything had fallen silent with Chance and Nikita looking on in horror. Luke was shaking as he slowly made his way to his kneeling and silently praying wife Rachel. He gently put one of his powerful hands on her shoulder only to have her brush it away and yell, “Don’t touch me!”
As Luke fell to his knees and sobbed as well, Chance grabbed onto the counter and heaved himself to his feet. With his hands on his ribs and a limp in his step, he approached Nikita and told her to use the phone in his office to dial 9-1-1. With a nod of approval and her head hung in sorrow, Nikita did as she was told.
Luke lifted his heavy head and looked at Chance with a face full of tears and a nose full of snot. “Well? Go ahead. Say it, Mr. Boss Man. Say that you were right and we were wrong. Tell me how proud you are of being right.”
“I’m not going to say any of those things,” said Chance. He limped his way over to the sobbing Easton couple and put both of his hands on their shoulders in a comforting way. “I’m sorry for your loss,” said Chance in a genuine tone. “If you want to say a prayer for baby Brian, I’m not going to try and stop you. The police are on their way, though, so if you’re going to do it, use that time wisely.”
Luke and Rachel nodded their approval at Chance before bowing their heads and saying their final prayers.
Meanwhile, Nikita dragged herself to the main dining area and looked at her boss with red, swollen, baggy eyes. “Mr. Rivers? You’ve been an awesome boss to me. You’re an awesome boss now. But I can’t do this anymore. I quit.”
The sullen expression on Chance’s face said it all: “I don’t blame you, Nikita. Nobody blames you at all.” The two of them actually shared a hug before Nikita languidly made her way out of the restaurant for the last time. She thought about all the heartache she had to endure of dealing with customers who were just as bad as the Eastons. Were there better jobs out there? Of course. Were there better bosses than Chance Rivers? Probably not. Nikita Croft wouldn’t spend the rest of the day worrying about college money. It was hard to read bank statements and take them seriously with both eyes full of burning tears.
When the well-known Easton family came strutting through the glass doors, Nikita’s suicidal fantasies of using a gun on herself were replaced with eye-widening, posture-straightening fear. The chubby, buzz-cut having Luke Easton and his long blond haired wife Rachel each came in with assault rifles strapped to their backs. Their baby son Brian was being pushed in a stroller by Rachel.
The Easton family’s presence caused various patrons to slowly cower away in fear, hide behind their booths, and hide underneath their tables. Some of the clerks behind the counter had their wide eyes locked on the family while other clerks had them locked on Nikita wondering what she was going to do. She was in charge of the register at the moment, so it would only make sense that this responsibility would fall on her, weak voiced and trembling through she was.
Luke Easton squinted his eyes as he surveyed the patrons backing away from them in pants-wetting fear. “What? What the hell’s your guys’ problem? You don’t like these rifles we’ve got strapped to our backs? Tough shit! This is America! Get used to it!”
“Uh, actually, sir…” said Nikita in a shy voice before tenderly clearing her throat. “Weapons are not allowed in Monster Burger. If you want service, you’ll have to go back to your vehicle and…put them away.”
Some of the patrons were sneaking their way around on the floor and bolting out of the front doors. Others stayed in their crouched positions and whimpered helplessly. Nobody even thought about calling the cops on their smart phones due to the fear of incurring Luke and Rachel’s wrath.
“You listen here, little lady,” snapped Luke as he marched toward the counter. “Me and my family came here for some burgers and fries! We’re hungry as hell! Now you can either make them or we’re going to have a problem!”
“Sir, we will make whatever you want if you’d just…put your guns back in your vehicle,” said Nikita without even looking Luke in the eyes.
Rachel pushed baby Brian’s stroller up to the counter and got involved in the heated debate. “I don’t know what your problem is, lady, but we’re not leaving until we get our food! We’re standing up for our second amendment rights! If you don’t like what we’re doing, then we can get your ass deported back to Canada!”
Nikita’s dialogue was getting messy as she kneeled to the floor and cried her eyes out. Everybody counted on her to be the brave authoritarian, but nobody counted on the Easton family to bring weapons into the restaurant. She lifted her head up and turned to her fellow clerks before saying, “I’m sorry! I can’t do this anymore!”
“Hold on there, Nikita!” said the dress shirt and tie-wearing manager of Monster Burger, Chance Rivers. Despite the lack of enthusiasm Nikita Croft showed for her job on a regular basis, Chance had always been there for her whether she needed comfort or a short-term loan. Being a good boss to his employees was part of the reason so many would-be college students worked for him. This time was no different.
“Mr. and Mrs. Easton! I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask both of you to leave my restaurant!” said Chance with a gentle hand on Nikita’s shoulder and a firm tone to the rifle-wielding family.
“We’re not doing anything wrong!” complained Rachel. “We have just as much right to be here as all of these people!” Most of those people had cleared out of the restaurant in shirt-sweating and pants-pissing fear.
“The hell you do!” barked Chance as he jumped over the counter and got in Rachel and Luke’s faces. “You’re putting my customers and my employees in huge danger by bringing those things in here! Nobody wants to be around you two right now! I’m losing customers because nobody really wants to get accidentally shot! Or in your case, purposefully!”
Luke grabbed Chance’s shirt and slammed him against the counter while breathing heavily in and out and drooling with anger. The clerks and cooks began to scramble out of the kitchen and bolt towards the front door. Nikita on the other hand was curled up in the fetal position on the floor still shedding tears. Yes, she was suicidal earlier in the day, but that all changed when she started to see what death really looked like up close.
“I’m not going to have this argument with you, Mr. Boss Man!” yelled Luke through gritted teeth. “Either you cook our food or else we’re going to have problems!”
Chance’s frightened expression and shivering body were being beefed up with adrenaline. It was now or never for him, his employees, and his customers. The manager reached behind the corpulent Luke and tried to wrestle the gun away from him. But Luke was too powerful and showed it when he hurled Chance to the ground, causing his ribs to ache and violent coughs to sound off across the restaurant.
“Luke, calm down. It’ll be okay, sweetie,” said a nervous Rachel, who was backing away slowly. She wasn’t changing political alignments, she was a shivering mess.
Luke armed himself with his assault rifle and clicked the pump handle. He looked down at the injured Chance Rivers with disdain and fiery hatred. “I’m getting sick of you Yankee liberal motherfuckers taking my rights away! I never wanted to fire this thing off today, but I’ll be glad to…”
Luke’s raging oratory was disrupted by his gun accidentally going off. Nikita and Chance held their ears and screamed in both pain and terror. Rachel, on the other hand, looked down at her baby stroller and saw the most horrifying thing a mother could imagine. She silently shed tears and dropped to her knees, shaking and cowering over the accidental death of Brian. She slowly unhooked her assault rifle and tossed it to the ground.
Everything had fallen silent with Chance and Nikita looking on in horror. Luke was shaking as he slowly made his way to his kneeling and silently praying wife Rachel. He gently put one of his powerful hands on her shoulder only to have her brush it away and yell, “Don’t touch me!”
As Luke fell to his knees and sobbed as well, Chance grabbed onto the counter and heaved himself to his feet. With his hands on his ribs and a limp in his step, he approached Nikita and told her to use the phone in his office to dial 9-1-1. With a nod of approval and her head hung in sorrow, Nikita did as she was told.
Luke lifted his heavy head and looked at Chance with a face full of tears and a nose full of snot. “Well? Go ahead. Say it, Mr. Boss Man. Say that you were right and we were wrong. Tell me how proud you are of being right.”
“I’m not going to say any of those things,” said Chance. He limped his way over to the sobbing Easton couple and put both of his hands on their shoulders in a comforting way. “I’m sorry for your loss,” said Chance in a genuine tone. “If you want to say a prayer for baby Brian, I’m not going to try and stop you. The police are on their way, though, so if you’re going to do it, use that time wisely.”
Luke and Rachel nodded their approval at Chance before bowing their heads and saying their final prayers.
Meanwhile, Nikita dragged herself to the main dining area and looked at her boss with red, swollen, baggy eyes. “Mr. Rivers? You’ve been an awesome boss to me. You’re an awesome boss now. But I can’t do this anymore. I quit.”
The sullen expression on Chance’s face said it all: “I don’t blame you, Nikita. Nobody blames you at all.” The two of them actually shared a hug before Nikita languidly made her way out of the restaurant for the last time. She thought about all the heartache she had to endure of dealing with customers who were just as bad as the Eastons. Were there better jobs out there? Of course. Were there better bosses than Chance Rivers? Probably not. Nikita Croft wouldn’t spend the rest of the day worrying about college money. It was hard to read bank statements and take them seriously with both eyes full of burning tears.
Saturday, December 12, 2015
Physical Fitness
***PHYSICAL FITNESS***
This coming January, my family and I are going to renew our memberships at the YMCA and exercise there on a regular basis. It’s that time again. It’s time for me to get my big ass back in shape. I’ve seen pictures of myself in the past where I look fantastic and then compare them to how I currently look in the mirror. It’s not a good feeling. What makes me feel better about my weight loss quests is that I’ve been a skinny man before and I can sure as hell do it again. But here’s where it gets tricky: weight loss has always been a back and forth battle for me. I’d make a plan, I’d stick to it, and I’d lose a lot of weight. Then I deviate from the plan just slightly and my weight spirals out of control once again. It’s a cycle I’m eventually going to have to break, but it can’t be done without people supporting me, which means no offers for fast food or ice cream and a staunch commitment to exercise every day despite tiredness.
The other part of this equation is my rebellious attitude towards the weight loss quest. I keep thinking that I have to do these ultra-hard exercises like Cross Fit or hour-long running or else I’m not going to lose any weight. I know for sure that’s not necessarily true, but I keep having scenarios play out in my head exactly like that. I’m not athletically minded by any stretch of the imagination. If I do any super-tough exercises, I’ll tire out within ten seconds tops. I don’t have it in me to ignore my tiredness, so I quit right away. I don’t want to be an athlete who plays sports. I just want to be healthy. Athletes have to do torturous things to their bodies just to maintain their energy. As an autism patient with increased sensitivity to stimuli, I feel the pain of intense exercise tenfold what a normal person feels.
To my way of thinking, physical fitness should come in the form of a handout. I know that’s not entirely realistic, but working that hard to achieve a smaller belly doesn’t appeal to me. But I also know that weight loss gimmicks like fat burning pills and surgery have dangerous side effects that overshadow any tiredness I feel from an intense workout. Here’s the truth: there are no handouts when it comes to physical fitness. If there were, America wouldn’t be the obese country that it is today.
While my plan for physical fitness isn’t in the form of shortcuts nor is it the ninth circle of hell, I do intend to find middle ground between the two. Thus, we have water walking, something I’ve done in the past with a lot of success. I get in the lap pool, run one way, and high-knee march the other. Fighting against water resistance is hard work and will get me the cardio I need. What makes it doable is the warmth of the water and how soothing it is to my joints. Because of this, I don’t actually feel the aches and pains of exercising until after I get out of the pool, which is when I’ve been walking for a whole hour. As the months go by and I start to weigh less, it’ll become two hours. And then three.
I was hesitant about this plan at first because I was rebelling against the idea that my heavy body was compromising my health. Every time I was told that I could have a heart attack or that harder exercises and a kale diet were the answer, I felt like I was being insulted. Insulting me doesn’t motivate me to work harder. It makes me resent the one doing the insulting. When my feelings and individuality are both considered, however, then that’s when exercising and dieting become more natural to me.
In January, the road to physical fitness begins once again. And once I’m on that road, I want to stay on it indefinitely. One slight detour could result in the world’s biggest fiery crash. That means no more ice cream, no more convenience store food, and the only fast food I’m going to agree to eat is from Subway. I’m all onboard with a plan like this. All I need is for people to come through for me and support me in this plan one-hundred-percent. I want to wear smaller clothes. I want to fit into whatever chair I’m sitting on. I want to do basic things without being winded right away. I want to live to be a hundred and look back on life with no regrets. I’m ready. Is everyone else?
***MOVIE DIALOGUE OF THE DAY***
DANTE: My mom told me a story one time that when I was three, my potty lid was closed. So instead of opening it, I shit my pants.
RANDAL: Lovely story.
DANTE: Look, the point is, I’m not the kind of person who disrupts things just so I can shit comfortably.
-Clerks-
This coming January, my family and I are going to renew our memberships at the YMCA and exercise there on a regular basis. It’s that time again. It’s time for me to get my big ass back in shape. I’ve seen pictures of myself in the past where I look fantastic and then compare them to how I currently look in the mirror. It’s not a good feeling. What makes me feel better about my weight loss quests is that I’ve been a skinny man before and I can sure as hell do it again. But here’s where it gets tricky: weight loss has always been a back and forth battle for me. I’d make a plan, I’d stick to it, and I’d lose a lot of weight. Then I deviate from the plan just slightly and my weight spirals out of control once again. It’s a cycle I’m eventually going to have to break, but it can’t be done without people supporting me, which means no offers for fast food or ice cream and a staunch commitment to exercise every day despite tiredness.
The other part of this equation is my rebellious attitude towards the weight loss quest. I keep thinking that I have to do these ultra-hard exercises like Cross Fit or hour-long running or else I’m not going to lose any weight. I know for sure that’s not necessarily true, but I keep having scenarios play out in my head exactly like that. I’m not athletically minded by any stretch of the imagination. If I do any super-tough exercises, I’ll tire out within ten seconds tops. I don’t have it in me to ignore my tiredness, so I quit right away. I don’t want to be an athlete who plays sports. I just want to be healthy. Athletes have to do torturous things to their bodies just to maintain their energy. As an autism patient with increased sensitivity to stimuli, I feel the pain of intense exercise tenfold what a normal person feels.
To my way of thinking, physical fitness should come in the form of a handout. I know that’s not entirely realistic, but working that hard to achieve a smaller belly doesn’t appeal to me. But I also know that weight loss gimmicks like fat burning pills and surgery have dangerous side effects that overshadow any tiredness I feel from an intense workout. Here’s the truth: there are no handouts when it comes to physical fitness. If there were, America wouldn’t be the obese country that it is today.
While my plan for physical fitness isn’t in the form of shortcuts nor is it the ninth circle of hell, I do intend to find middle ground between the two. Thus, we have water walking, something I’ve done in the past with a lot of success. I get in the lap pool, run one way, and high-knee march the other. Fighting against water resistance is hard work and will get me the cardio I need. What makes it doable is the warmth of the water and how soothing it is to my joints. Because of this, I don’t actually feel the aches and pains of exercising until after I get out of the pool, which is when I’ve been walking for a whole hour. As the months go by and I start to weigh less, it’ll become two hours. And then three.
I was hesitant about this plan at first because I was rebelling against the idea that my heavy body was compromising my health. Every time I was told that I could have a heart attack or that harder exercises and a kale diet were the answer, I felt like I was being insulted. Insulting me doesn’t motivate me to work harder. It makes me resent the one doing the insulting. When my feelings and individuality are both considered, however, then that’s when exercising and dieting become more natural to me.
In January, the road to physical fitness begins once again. And once I’m on that road, I want to stay on it indefinitely. One slight detour could result in the world’s biggest fiery crash. That means no more ice cream, no more convenience store food, and the only fast food I’m going to agree to eat is from Subway. I’m all onboard with a plan like this. All I need is for people to come through for me and support me in this plan one-hundred-percent. I want to wear smaller clothes. I want to fit into whatever chair I’m sitting on. I want to do basic things without being winded right away. I want to live to be a hundred and look back on life with no regrets. I’m ready. Is everyone else?
***MOVIE DIALOGUE OF THE DAY***
DANTE: My mom told me a story one time that when I was three, my potty lid was closed. So instead of opening it, I shit my pants.
RANDAL: Lovely story.
DANTE: Look, the point is, I’m not the kind of person who disrupts things just so I can shit comfortably.
-Clerks-
Monday, May 25, 2015
Clerks II
MOVIE TITLE: Clerks II
DIRECTOR: Kevin Smith
YEAR: 2006
GENRE: Comedy
RATING: R for vulgar language and bestiality
GRADE: Pass
Dante Hicks shows up for work at the Quick Stop Convenience Store only to find out it burned to the ground after a coffee pot was negligently left on overnight. Fast forward to the present where he and his best friend Randal Graves now have jobs at a fast food restaurant. Randal still takes pleasure in screwing with the customers while Dante does what he did in the first movie and “over-compensates for having what’s basically a monkey’s job”. That, and Dante has another love triangle to take care of now that Caitlin and Veronica are gone from his life.
A comedy can only be a comedy if it’s funny. When I first saw this movie with my dad when it came out in theaters, I was laughing my ass off throughout the entire thing. It’s been twelve years since the first Clerks movie and Randal Graves still has his silver tongue. He even has an alternative ending to the Lord of the Rings movies since they’re not entertaining enough due to the constant walking scenes. He also has an interesting take on how “porch monkey” shouldn’t be a racial slur, but a normal insult.
And to top the whole thing off, for a going away party for Dante, he buys him a donkey show. If you don’t know what a donkey show is, don’t ask me, because I actually want to maintain my appetite. If it seems like I’m telling instead of showing, it’s because I want you to see these crass, but funny jokes for yourself and find your own laughter. When I was a kid, my dad used to spoil jokes for me by saying what they were before they happened on TV (because I would laugh twice that way). That drove me nuts.
In addition to being a hyena laugh comedy, Clerks II also has some serious philosophical messages that should be noted. Just like in the first movie with Caitlin and Veronica, Dante finds himself in a love triangle, but with two different women. He’s scheduled to marry a woman named Emma and go to Florida with her to get his life on the right track and start a car wash business.
Meanwhile, Dante is actually in love with his boss at the fast food joint Becky, who midway through the movie tells him that she’s pregnant. Right here it seems appropriate to quote a famous Glenn Frey song: “Are you going to stay with the one who loves you or are you going back to the one you love. Someone’s going to cry when they know they’ve lost you and someone’s going to thank their stars above.”
Which brings me to the main philosophical point the movie makes: live your life the way it makes sense to you and don’t let society’s standards dictate who you should be. Randal already knows what he wants from life: to eat free food, watch movies, insult customers, and hang out with Dante all day long, just like he did when he worked at RST Video. It’s not the most glamorous way to make a living, but it’s what Randal loves and nobody’s going to tell him he’s wrong.
Dante on the other hand is so much of a conformist that he’d rather go to Florida with Emma (who he could care less about) so that he can start a new life and be a “winner” in the eyes of the public. He doesn’t realize until the end of the movie that in making this bold move, he’s abandoning his best friend of many decades Randal and tearing him apart in the process. Dante is basically trading his individuality for a piece of the pie and part of his individuality is his longtime friendship with Randal.
A lot of Kevin Smith fans, my dad included, are firm believers that the first Clerks movie can never be topped. I respectfully disagree. When I saw this movie in 2006, I needed a good laugh due to my mental illness getting the best of me. Clerks II provided constant laughs throughout the entire movie and made me believe in life again. In fact, my horse laugh made everyone else in the movie theater laugh twice. They’d laugh once at the jokes in the movie and laugh again when they heard my own laugh. If you though that was something, wait until Clerks III comes out!
***MOVIE QUOTE OF THE DAY***
“I really wish you would have told me this when I first met you, that one day you were going to bail on our friendship. If I would have known you were going to flake on me a couple decades later, I wouldn’t have even bothered with your ass in the first place.”
-Randal to Dante-
DIRECTOR: Kevin Smith
YEAR: 2006
GENRE: Comedy
RATING: R for vulgar language and bestiality
GRADE: Pass
Dante Hicks shows up for work at the Quick Stop Convenience Store only to find out it burned to the ground after a coffee pot was negligently left on overnight. Fast forward to the present where he and his best friend Randal Graves now have jobs at a fast food restaurant. Randal still takes pleasure in screwing with the customers while Dante does what he did in the first movie and “over-compensates for having what’s basically a monkey’s job”. That, and Dante has another love triangle to take care of now that Caitlin and Veronica are gone from his life.
A comedy can only be a comedy if it’s funny. When I first saw this movie with my dad when it came out in theaters, I was laughing my ass off throughout the entire thing. It’s been twelve years since the first Clerks movie and Randal Graves still has his silver tongue. He even has an alternative ending to the Lord of the Rings movies since they’re not entertaining enough due to the constant walking scenes. He also has an interesting take on how “porch monkey” shouldn’t be a racial slur, but a normal insult.
And to top the whole thing off, for a going away party for Dante, he buys him a donkey show. If you don’t know what a donkey show is, don’t ask me, because I actually want to maintain my appetite. If it seems like I’m telling instead of showing, it’s because I want you to see these crass, but funny jokes for yourself and find your own laughter. When I was a kid, my dad used to spoil jokes for me by saying what they were before they happened on TV (because I would laugh twice that way). That drove me nuts.
In addition to being a hyena laugh comedy, Clerks II also has some serious philosophical messages that should be noted. Just like in the first movie with Caitlin and Veronica, Dante finds himself in a love triangle, but with two different women. He’s scheduled to marry a woman named Emma and go to Florida with her to get his life on the right track and start a car wash business.
Meanwhile, Dante is actually in love with his boss at the fast food joint Becky, who midway through the movie tells him that she’s pregnant. Right here it seems appropriate to quote a famous Glenn Frey song: “Are you going to stay with the one who loves you or are you going back to the one you love. Someone’s going to cry when they know they’ve lost you and someone’s going to thank their stars above.”
Which brings me to the main philosophical point the movie makes: live your life the way it makes sense to you and don’t let society’s standards dictate who you should be. Randal already knows what he wants from life: to eat free food, watch movies, insult customers, and hang out with Dante all day long, just like he did when he worked at RST Video. It’s not the most glamorous way to make a living, but it’s what Randal loves and nobody’s going to tell him he’s wrong.
Dante on the other hand is so much of a conformist that he’d rather go to Florida with Emma (who he could care less about) so that he can start a new life and be a “winner” in the eyes of the public. He doesn’t realize until the end of the movie that in making this bold move, he’s abandoning his best friend of many decades Randal and tearing him apart in the process. Dante is basically trading his individuality for a piece of the pie and part of his individuality is his longtime friendship with Randal.
A lot of Kevin Smith fans, my dad included, are firm believers that the first Clerks movie can never be topped. I respectfully disagree. When I saw this movie in 2006, I needed a good laugh due to my mental illness getting the best of me. Clerks II provided constant laughs throughout the entire movie and made me believe in life again. In fact, my horse laugh made everyone else in the movie theater laugh twice. They’d laugh once at the jokes in the movie and laugh again when they heard my own laugh. If you though that was something, wait until Clerks III comes out!
***MOVIE QUOTE OF THE DAY***
“I really wish you would have told me this when I first met you, that one day you were going to bail on our friendship. If I would have known you were going to flake on me a couple decades later, I wouldn’t have even bothered with your ass in the first place.”
-Randal to Dante-
Tuesday, April 8, 2014
Burger King Dreams
Regardless of what city I’m visiting in my dreams, there always seems to be a Burger King right up the street. I wouldn’t even have to ask for a ride, I could just walk and that Triple Whopper with Cheese is as good as mine. There was even one dream where UFC fighter Chael Sonnen gave me a cut of his post-fight bonus to go eat at Burger King. He said it was the closest thing to socialism that I would ever get in my lifetime. Nice guy, huh? But let’s talk about this strange archetype for a moment. Why Burger King? Why not McDonald’s, Wendy’s, or Sonic? Could it have something to do with the fact that going to Burger King was a weekend ritual for me during high school? I’ve had lots of high school dreams, so Burger King might be the link I’m looking for. Every weekend during my junior and senior years of high school, my dad would give me a ten dollar bill and I would walk to Burger King to get a Triple Whopper with Cheese. This was obviously before I was eligible for social security, so I needed that ten dollars. When I was packing on weight in a big fucking hurry, he stopped giving me ten dollar bills. It wouldn’t have mattered anyways, because now that I’ve been receiving disability benefits since 2004, I spend most of my money on restaurants and convenience stores. That’s right, folks. My life is so lackluster that the only source of entertainment I have is chowing down on processed meats and cheeses. I take one bite of a greasy hamburger and all my depressive pain goes away. But once the meal is over, I have to find another fix and dinner won’t be for another few hours. Then what? It’s funny that I have all of these writing projects to do and all these books to read on my shelf, yet eating at a fast food restaurant is more fun than doing either of those two things. When someone asks me to read a book, I’m conveniently “mentally exhausted”. But when my step-father is going out for a grocery run and asks me if I need to stop anywhere, my mental energy suddenly comes back to me. In a way, cheap food has become my painkiller, which is funny, because when I started writing this blog entry, I was listening to “Painkiller” by Three Days Grace. But you know what else is a painkiller for me? Writing and reading. The feeling of accomplishment I get from both of those activities will last me for at least the rest of the day. The difference between creative activities and eating is that eating is readily available when I need it. Creativity takes more time. I’m not a patient man, so I choose fast food over writing and reading. This is obviously the wrong path to choose since I have a saggy tummy and big cheeks. But you know what? Until somebody provides me with a solution that’s more permanent than a pep talk, I’m going to keep going down this road. It’s sad and unfortunate, but this is who I am. Food has become a part of me in more ways than just eating it.
***DOMESTIC QUOTE OF THE DAY***
“Garrison likes his books like he likes his food: fast and cheap.”
-Susan Wilson-
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