That’s right. You heard me. Don’t go to Italy. It will corrupt the very fiber of your being.
I know, maybe because my being was very fibrous, but I know it very, very well.
I spend half my time in a country which is preparing to lie to its children by telling them that pizza is a vegetable. Yes, the corporations that have the big machines that spit out nasty industrial pizzas for American school lunches have argued that since the glop they put on top of the cardboard crust consists of “two tablespoons of tomato paste” then these monstrosities should be called “vegetables.” Never mind that the tomato is a fruit, as are most of what Americans call vegetables.
In contrast, Italy protects the very idea of good, artisan pizza from trained people who know how to do it best. Don’t go because you might lust over the best of these.
And here’s something just as interesting. In my country pepper spray, used to burn the eyes of people who dare sit down while protesting the public financing of rich people who’ve crashed the economy and demanded money from the sitters so they can do it again and again, “is a food product, essentially.”
Holy crap, why don’t we just cut circles outta some cardboard boxes that our Black Friday crap came in and spray it with pepper spray and hand the result to our kids and call it pizza? Or maybe pizza puttanesca, a spicy, hot….well, never mind. That plan of action would balance the budget in no time. Fiber. That’s the answer. And there’s plenty in cardboard.
But today is Thanksgiving. Turkey day. Yup, dad comes home with a thirty pound bird nobody would ever think of eating outside this holiday—as if you could declare a “tripe day” and everyone would rush out on a single day to wait in line to exchange their hard earned cash for huge plastic bags bulging with cow stomachs.
On Thanksgiving we become lemmings, which are also good to eat I’ve heard.
I never have turkey for Thanksgiving. Not since industrial scientists have succeeded in “enhancing” the most tasteless part of the turkey by bolstered the titty genes so that those lilly-white breasts grow so large the turkey can’t really walk. Honestly, they drag on the ground. Nobody’s interested in developing a turkey bra because they’d likely become the laughing stock of their country club. So turkeys suffer. And people who like tasty food suffer. I know this because I’ve tasted my Italian neighbor Armando’s turkey. Mmmm. Small breasted, big thighed, running wild in the barnyard Turkey. Out to raise hell Amazon turkeys. The way God intended.
But yes, Americans are big on breasts. Americans, I should say, are allowed to be big on big breasts. As long as they’re on a Turkey.
Listen to this, “A new television commercial for the Fiat 500 Abarth is expected to be banned in both the US and Australia.”
Why? Breasts, here referred to as “cleavage” as one might find between big ‘uns.
The Fiat advertisement opens to a man caught staring at a beautiful woman fixing her shoe. The woman confronts him in Italian, accusing him of undressing her with his eyes. She continues pressing closer to the man, finally dipping her finger in his coffee and letting the foam drop on her cleavage. ~ Fiat 500 Ad too Racy for US and Australia
Yup. Our government doesn’t want you to see seduction, eroticism, cleavage, or a woman who turns into a car that can be driven fast without tipping over. For anyone who thinks Italian government is crazy, look at the one in Washington. Sheesh.
I’m outta here. I got a duck to cook.
The truth about Turkey: Butterball this