Since 1876, Heinz Tomato Ketchup (you know, as opposed to Banana Ketchup), has been a pantry staple all across the world. It’s hard to imagine some of our favorite foods without it, like sandwiches or French fries but not hot dogs because anyone who does that shit after the age of 9 should be made into Asshole Sauce. And if you ever put ketchup on a pizza, you should be hunted for sport but not meat because not even Heinz’s delicious tomato sauce could make your rotten flesh palatable to any human with a soul. Where were we? Oh yes, so, after more than 130 years on the market, Heinz is shaking things up with their all new Crystal Ketchup.
For literally hundreds of years, 21st-century young people have sustained primarily on avocado toast and hot tea. But the time has come to yeet that disgusting slime-fruit off your grilled bread and replace it with the new big thing: an entire watermelon. Do it now to claim you were ahead of everyone else when the whole thing inevitably takes off.
They say that in the restaurant business the most important things are “location, location, location.” Well that’s bullshit. I’d know because all three of my restaurants failed despite excellent locations. Both “Let’s Taco ‘Bout Our Feelings” And “God’s Flan For Me” were right next to a Mexican cemetery yet didn’t last more than a month. But it was the failure of “Artichoke Me, Daddy” (located in the vicinity where all those grisly strangling murders happened) that really made me look back and ask myself: where did I go wrong?
It happens to all of us. It’s morning, you’re enjoying your cereal, then you notice the box of Froot Loops with Toucan Sam on it and, well, suddenly you’re not able to get up from the table in front of your family. Because of the giant erection. Of your penis. Or vagina, as the case may be, unless all those anime lied to me. Anyhow, we all eventually have to deal with a sudden, inexplicable attraction to the Froot Loops bird but… is it really that inexplicable?
A burrito really is the pinnacle of cooking. Name any other food that comes in its own, edible wrapper, other than crunchy goo balls (I think they’re called “eggs” in the U.S.) You can’t. The best part is that there are hundreds of ways to make a burrito, and the bestest part is that there are even more ways to eat one like an unhinged crazy person. Look, the whole world is one gigantic prison yard and, sometimes, you have to show everyone that if a psychic ever read your mind, they’d piss their pants and then jump off a bridge. And the easiest way to do it is by jamming a burrito into your face hole in a way only a totally psychotic monster would, like so:
You could already feel that this day was going to be a doozy. As you sit down at your table, you see him coming your way. Sleeves rolled up to show-off a bunch of tattoos, some of which you’re sure you can only get in prison, untucked shirt, 5 o’clock shadow at 1 in the afternoon, lit cigarette in his mouth, and a breath that could strip paint off a speed boat. God, what was the restaurant thinking partnering you up with a loose cannon waiter?