mccolonbuster

The Michelin Man: Early years

Before I get started, I just want to leave you, the reader, to decide whether I should keep things like this to myself in the future. Let me know...

I was driving home today with a rock really low in my belly that needed a little goading on. 

I saw the golden arches from a block away and decided to pull into the drive thru because, in my experience, anything McDonalds acts like a catalyst to spur on bowel movement. My friend's dad used to call it the "Rectum Rocket" when we were kids. We'd all laugh because he said rectum.

I had the fries picked away by the time I got home and then slammed down most of a Big Mac and six nasty nuggets before I started to feel ill.

10 minutes later though, guess what?

It did the job. It greased me up. The rock was gone, flushed through the system by my mclunch.

That food, man. There is something in that stuff that mirrors the company. Their business is so competitive that I'm convinced that McDonalds has even engineered their 'food' to bully and push out all other competition, in the form of partially digested food contents in the human belly, so it alone reigns as king in the person who eats it.

Note: Scary how time dilutes feeling.

Like heartbreak, things that once felt so strong become mere afterthought.

Case in point, my feelings toward McDonalds. 

After reading Fast Food Nation, and learning about the amount of diseased beef making its way into our diets, the horrifying contents of chicken nuggets and the appalling work conditions many in big cities were forced to put up with, I weaned myself off fast food for quite some time.

And then, Super Size Me completely turned me off the arches and I stayed away for over six months.

You're sick, Clown. Do you know how old those McNugget twins are? You're going away for a long, long time. Boy, am I gonna enjoy knocking that silly grin off your smug mug.

Gradually, though, hungover or in a rush, I'd stop in and have some fries or one lone cheeseburger. As time wore on, and the info faded away, I visited that terrible place with more frequency, and now I don't even think about all the awful.

I feel like I've been reverse-brainwashed, like Winston at the end of 1984, when he finally accepts he loves Big Brother... because he sucks.