e’ve sued the tobacco companies for making our kids smoke. And some fuck is in the process of suing the alcohol industry for making our kids drink. But now, presidential hopeful Joe “Not-Fucking-Likely” Lieberman is pressing for legislation that would require warning labels on junk food.

The fucktard has this to say: “I’m not saying if you eat a jelly doughnut or have a high-sugar bottle of soda, you’re going to get sick, but if you have too many it’s going to affect your health.” Well, fuck me in the ass and call me a fairy! Thank you, professor Lieberman, for pointing that out and saving us from our gluttonous selves. Didja learn summat up at that thar White House?

And furthermore: “While parents can refuse to bring junk food into their homes, advertisements prompt demands from the youngest children and make it more likely that they will buy the products.” And parents can’t just say no to ‘the youngest children’? They’re kids for crying out loud. Mommy, I want a cupcake! Mommy, I want some pie! Mommy, I want… Shut the fuck up, Timmy. Lee’me alone and le’me finish my goddamn crack pipe a’fore I put the hose on you agin. See, it’s that simple. No junk food, no fat kid, no Jew in the Whitehouse, everyone’s happy.

Like the villainous tobacco industry, the candy companies have run ads targeting the youngest children (Oh, me! Oh, my!) for years without warning that their heavily sweetened products are not, in fact, a replacement for real food. And this, in the land of the free and the brave, warrants a class action law suit, or at least the attentions of a last-straw politician who doesn’t know how to pick his battles.

Let’s see if I’ve got this correct: the junk food industry has had ad campaigns that make people, especially the youngest children (God help us!), want to buy their products. In some sense, then, you could say that they have had what we could call a ‘successful ad campaign’ because that’s what fucking marketing is supposed to do: make you want to buy a fucking product.

Would you be happy, Mr. Lieberman if the junk food industry used ads that didn’t make us want to buy their product? Instead of some cheery-faced, sweet-toothed kid merrily munching away on a HoHo, Hostess could run ads that feature some punk who eats a cupcake and then balloons up to four hundred pounds just like Violet, that overly-cheery chick who eats Wonka's four-course-meal gum. It wasn't perfected yet, you stupid bitch!

Is personal responsibility so incredibly dead that we need FDA labels to tell us what not to eat? Warning: you are too much of a ‘tard to make your own choices, don’t eat this. The knowledge that jelly doughnuts and ‘high-sugar bottles of soda’, while tasty, have a nasty habit of ‘affecting your health’ isn’t new. In fact, one of the first instances of cave writings deals with this very dilemma:

But, rather than learning from simple, yet proud, Gog, you fat fucks turn to federally mandated warning labels as protection against an inability to link consequences with the numbnut retarded choices you make. I feel stupider for having learnt about this.

This reeks of all that crap we put the tobacco companies through. They target youths. They lure youths in with misrepresentative ads and kid-friendly mascots like a twinkie in a cowboy hat. And a camel who smokes. And a giant mouse who sells crack. Wait. No, that wasn't real. Sorry. Back to the matter at hand: how can our litigative legislators even put these two industries on the same level? One markets heavily addictive concoctions of carcinogenic chemicals and cured, nicotine-rich roughage conveniently rolled into slow-burning packets of death. The other markets cream-filled cup cakes.

You know, meat never caused this much trouble. And it never hurt anyone, despite what those vegan hippies would have you believe. As Dr. Atkins said before his high-fat diet induced heart attack: "Meat good. Meat no hurt anyone." Maybe we should hunt more; it's fun for the whole family: start with defenseless prey that's easy to kill, because I know you're out of practice. Babies and house cats and whatnot. Wear their tanned skins as symbols of your not-so-meritous accomplishments. Then, perhaps when you've gained more skill, move on up to the east side of the deadlier beasts: Johovah's witnesses, Amway salesmen and their ilk. Yes, we need to hunt more. None of this twelve hours of television a day bullshit. Stop watching the goddamn world and start bashing its melon-soft head in with a crudely-hewn cudgel! Ah, the gold ol' days of my youth. When men were hairy and women were to be dragged by the hair back to my cave to receive my caveman seed.

I bet if America's fat ass had to work for it's food, rather than just calling up Webvan and having some It's-Not-Delivery-It's-DiGiorno delivered (And maybe some ice cream. The kind with all those little candies in it. But no nuts. I hate nuts. Oh, and maybe a liter of cola. That'd be nice too. Oh, and look at that, they're having a special on deep-fried pork stomach. Gimme some of those, too) it wouldn't be so goddamned whiny and fat.


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