corn fucker fucking dog

from my 3-month trip to America, titled "American Crumble and the Gluttony Honeymoon" 

More at https://gluttonyhoneymoon.blogspot.com/

after Anthelme Brillat-Savarin and Ludwig Andreas Feuerbach had said similar things, albeit more figuratively, it was first printed, as such, in the Bridgeport Telegraph in 1923; a quote from the opinionated nutritionist Victor Lindlahr that would become a dinner table staple of which the greater part has been forgotten, namely; "ninety per cent of the diseases known to man are caused by cheap foodstuffs. you are what you eat."

and so it comes to tinned pigs brains in milk gravy and deep fried butter. these things are real. i have seen them with my own eyes. can't cookies and i scream crumbling and dribbling down mall swelling "i heart attack" t-shirts. it's never been the same since it came out the wrapper. meat product. cheese product. powdered cheese. squeeze cheese. spray-on cheese, in the land of circumcised sausages and castrated dog dicks. ground up re-constitutional quote unquote meat held together in messed up gut paste tubes. intestines into intestines. this is modern alchemy. this shit has to be stirred as part of its manufacture. i cannot stress this enough. corn dogs, corn syrup, corn flakes, corned beef, corn muffins, popcorn, corn-hole. me so corny. so chokingly cheese-steak-tastic. corny and cheesy are words chosen to mean bad taste. this is not a coincidence. neither are the domesticated mongrels staring cross-eyed vacant into the twinky-winkling salt crystal stars and stripes of streaky bacon, rippling and spitting on the hot-plate. have you not noticed before? that the spangled banner is a giant piece of bacon, crisping and curling at the edges? (the stars came later in 1777). we used to eat pigs in blankets, and look where the revolution has led us - to shrink wrapped irradiated dreams. to oink and snorting slaughter house debris galvanised in glittery candy bread, sloppily resuscitated by dielectric magnetic waves. that's adultery right there. but who am i to judge - amen and awomen - when you lick your slithery slave fingers. who am i to judge when the world's richest country gobbles dog food?

as a border patrol cop told me coming over the border from canada, "boy don't even think of coming here if you aint got enough dough" ...yes officer lard ass. i can see that (wibble. wobble).