GateHouse — Yep. I like McRibs.
You can talk all day long about their ghoulish caloric content, you can walk me line-by-line through the roster of vitamins and minerals they don’t contain, you can provide me with photographic proof of the dog-meat which is smooshed into a grey paste in Cambodia and shipped via donkey, unsupervised ocean liner and nonrefrigerated truck to an outdoor McProcessingfacility/wastewater plant/shooting range in North Carolina, and I will not care because I like McRibs. Someone please rip this out of the newspaper, or three-finger-swipe-left on the iPad or whatever you do to save things, and bring it to my funeral, which will take place in about eight weeks, so everyone can enjoy a good long laugh before the luau. (Note: My funeral is going to be awesome.)
Otherwise, and occasional McGriddle aside (I AM BUT A MAN) I try not eat at McDonald’s. Not for any militant reason I’m gonna tweet about 12 times a day — I just don’t. And for the most part, neither does Little Man — though that’s not always easy to do, because at some point it’s 7:45 p.m. and we haven’t had dinner and the idea of crafting an organic, multi-course Meal out of locally raised and humanely caught fish loses by about a billion to the idea that I can sate my moody and undernourished child immediately, through nuggets.
We can’t boast a 100 percent success rate, but we try hard. In this regard (and few others) I’m like Michelle Obama, who despite Republican objections to her existence/face, has for years promoted healthy eating and living among Our Nation’s Youth.
McDonald’s, you may have seen, recently announced that it would begin offering more “fruit” and fewer chemicals/discarded animal legs in its Happy Meals, by way of atoning for forcing billions upon billions of preservative-filled meathorks on kids for 200 years, but I mean it’s not like there’s been any recent appreciable change in childhood obesity rates or anything.
The net effect is that instead of eating six gluey-tasting chicken glumps and some fries you get six gluey-tasting chicken glumps and some damp items to have once been apple in nature, but whatever, journey of a thousand steps, etc. Which is what the First Lady acknowledged on her Let’s Move blog:
“I’ve always said that everyone has a role to play in making America healthier, and these are positive steps toward the goal of solving the problem of childhood obesity. McDonald’s has continued to evolve its menu, and I look forward to hearing about the progress of today’s commitments, as well as efforts in the years to come.”
Now, I know what you’re thinking: YOU MURDEROUS VAMPIRIC SHE-BEAST SOCIALISM BIRTH CERTIFICATE NAZI GOVERNMENT YARGLTH! I wrote that last word by mashing the keyboard and seeing what happened, but I think I’ll keep it.
Of course, if you weren’t thinking that, if you weren’t taking a position that literally every breathing human with some shriveled husk of a soul should agree on and whining about it, then you’re not Professional Television Person Michelle Malkin, who on her weblog complained hilariously thusly, and I warn you that if you have anything in your mouth that might result in a spit-take from overexposure to Comedy, remove it now:
“With the approval of First Nutritionist Michelle Obama, McDonald’s is getting rid of caramel apple dip, reducing the French fries portion, and adding more apples to its Happy Meals offerings. They won’t rest until the Happy Meal has undergone the total Berkeley makeover. Next up: Goodbye, hamburgers. Hello, tofu burgers. Goodbye, fruit juice boxes. Hello, kale/wheatgrass boxes.”
Related, sort of
- Yo, Ding Dong, man, Ding Dong. Ding Dong, yo
- KFC Double Down Sandwich: “Suck it, National Obesity Epidemic”
HA OK first of all if there’s a bad kale joke, I’ve yet to hear it. But Malkin, on a Comedy Roll and by way of cementing her reputation as the nation’s leading advocate for fat sweaty sick children, continues: “I’m running out to Sonic before right now before they get their grubby Nanny State hands on my cheesy tots and cherry limeade.”
HA AGAIN McDonald’s is turning your kids gay with Communist Apples and the only recourse is to beplumpen them at a drive-up diner that can inflate them full of $1.19 40-oz. carbonated windshield wiper fluid-colored beverages at 11:45 p.m. Or, you know, go to A Grocery Store and make some burgers yourself, in your own terrorist-free kitchen that comes in that house you got with your FHA loan.
It went on like this. Malkin did a thing about a Photoshop contest, but it’s hard to remember through all these great finger-on-the-pulse jokes about wheatgrass and Berkeley. I think it was essentially a couple dozen pictures of sad babies and Obama logos and adorable children screwing up their faces in tantrums over having to eat hideous terrors like “oranges” and “vegetables” out of meals their parents have clearly opted to purchase already, which seems like a free market failure to me, but that’s probably the Berkeley tofu shake talking.