|The Other, Other White Meat|
I am a Son of the South. Texas to be precise. It pains me to have to report on Southern Dumbasses (except those in Florida. They’re prolly Yankee transplants anyway), but as an unbiased
smear merchant member of the New Media, I have an obligation to you, my fellow dumbasses, to report the dumbass story as it is, then call it like I see it. And by “call it like I see it’ I mean rip him/her/them a new asshole. Hey, it’s a tough job but somebody’s gotta do it.
Some dumbass radio station held a promotion in which the winning contestants would win a free season pass to Six Flags Over Georgia. Sounds like a pretty good deal until you find out what each player had to do in order to win the season pass. The contest hopefuls had to eat something to get their super duper prize. (A lone voice from the crowd calls out:) What did they have to eat Tobe? Thanks for that great question unsolicited member of the reading audience! They had to eat…hot dogs? Nope. Jalapeno peppers? Not this time. The delicacy that would put a season pass to Six Flags Over Georgia in our eager entrants’ hands? Madagascar hissing cockroaches! Aaaaaannnddd, each potential winner had two minutes to consume these little shit eaters. Madagascar hissing cockroaches are the size of Ford trucks. OK, I made that part up, but they are anywhere from 2 to 3 inches long and weigh just a hair less than an ounce. I hear that they taste like chicken. Actually the roaches in the contest are flavored. How about a BBQ Madagascar hissing cockroach? Mexican? La cucaracha, la cucaracha ya me voy a caminar or something like that. My Meskin song memories are a little fuzzy. Like the roaches.
I grew up in the Dallas-Fort Worth area of Texas and in the early 60s Six Flags Over Texas was welcomed to the Metroplex. As a child and a young man I went to Six Flags approximately 8 billion times. Therefore, I think it’s fair to say that if I never see another Six Flags or DisneyWhatever, I will be a happy dumbass. Back then it cost like two bucks for kids to get into the park. I can only imagine what admission is today for a child. $30? Anyone? Bueller? The point is fuck Six Flags. I have no use for them as is and I damn sure would not consume a 3 inch long hissing shit eater to win a season pass to the stinkin’ place. The mental deficient dumbasses who went for the passes and the radio station personnel who came up with and participated in this potential Projectile Puke Fest should be rounded up and summarily covered in honey and buried up to the neck in sand infested by gazillions of red ants. Maybe that’s a little harsh, but a swift kick in the nuts would suffice instead. Only a big, tough, drunk (on cheap beer, of course) male Redneck would even consider doing this. That’s where a swift kick in the nuts comes in. Oh, and a little snip snip in the gazebos so these frakkin’ descendants of the cast of Deliverance can not reproduce.
I gotta run. I hear Dueling Banjos in the background.