Archive for Obesity

Winning The War On Bones.

Posted in Things Rank And Gross In Nature with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on June 28, 2008 by Buck Frain

We win! Australia, the little battler, has won – against insurmountable odds we fought hard to be leading the world in obesity! Yeah, We’re the fattest cunts in the world! Fuck you, USA, you can eat our convict shit, we’re fatter than you bastards! 26% of all Aussies are obese, that’s four million of us – a 33% rise in obesity in the last nine years. Fat Aussies have been gorging their pie-holes for the last nine years to top the USA’s puny 25% obesity rate. Yeah, they’ve got more fatties in total, but per capita we have the most cottage-cheese-arsed, cankled, wheezing behemoths of any nation on the planet! 

 

Doesn’t anybody find any of this remotely offensive? I don’t mean my ruthless attack on the fatties, I mean isn’t anyone offended by the rampant epidemic of bloatedness? We see it everywhere. My two bosses, The Wobblers, are both horrendously obese shit-sacks. Many of the people in the building I work in have Office Body*, you only have to walk down the street to realise that most people are packing some weight, thin people are a serious minority. 

 

But we’re all polite about it – everyone knows the pain of the fatty, Oprah’s made us oh-so aware of the torture it is to be fat. No one wants to point out to their friends or co-workers Hey, you’re becoming a bit of a chunk, should you be eating that? Woe betide the heathen who dared say such a hurtful thing. You insensitive bastard, it’s genetic, his whole family is like that. Um…but he’s eaten two pizzas today…are you sure that’s genetic? 

 

You see, I think that’s part of the problem – it’s politically correct to tell people they’re drinking too much, or that they should quit smoking, but we’re in denial about obesity. You mustn’t tell the fatty they’re fat, they might feel bad about themselves and eat more! Yeah, I know, the fuckin’ fat cunt might eat YOU, you’re just scared! For fuck’s sake, tell her from a distance, the fat fuck won’t be able to chase you for long. 

 

Now before all you fatties out there start sending me death threats, I’d like to point out I’m not advocating everyone need have chiseled abs and cheekbones or plastic surgery themselves to look like Paris Hilton, that’s just another disgusting sickness. What I’m saying is: take physical responsibility for yourself. Be a bit healthy.

  

No-one wants to walk down a street and see a piss-pants drunk sitting there boozing himself into oblivion, nor do you want to see junkies shooting up nor sex addicts jerking themselves off in public. Why not? Because it’s offensive. Obese people are killing themselves with food. I find it offensive to see some filthy, fat pig scoffing into a Big Mac. Most people will walk past keeping their revulsion private but everyone finds it unsettling, even if only on a well-trained, unconscious level. It turns my stomach and I can’t understand why it is no longer acceptable to acknowledge that offensiveness. Even the most compassionate soul has to concede that, on a purely pragmatic level, it’s a massive a waste of resources. On a planet with billions of people barely surviving, these fat turds eat enough each day for a whole family, and in a few years time they’re going to be a massive financial burden on an already strained health system. We all will be paying through the nose to save these fatties from themselves. Maybe they need a dose of reality rather than that second Double Quarter Pounder! YOU’RE FUCKIN’ FAT, FATTY!!! FATTY FAT FAT FAT!!! HAVEN’T YOU HAD ENOUGH FOOD, YOU STINKING FAT CUNT??? What? Chase me, fuckface!   

 

 

*Office Body – a phenomenon where, due to a lack of physical activity, chronic over-eating and a diet of shit, a person becomes overweight or obese and most of their muscles wither away except for a few fingers on the hand that operates their computer mouse. See also Internet Body, Playstation Body or Lazy Fat Cunt.

 

Door-to-door Euthanasia – The Business Of The Future!

Posted in Crap Jobs with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on June 15, 2008 by Buck Frain

I had a great idea for a direct marketing business today. It just came to me. Door-to-door Euthanasia. Genius! Think about it:- The planet’s chronically overpopulated, we’re consuming natural resources at a thoroughly unsustainable rate and we’re polluting our environment to an extent that the planet will be uninhabitable by humans within 100 years. The human race is done. Most people are already killing themselves, in a slow, cowardly consumerist way at least: cigarettes, alcohol, junk food, drugs, mobile phones, driving whilst doing any or all of the former. Most of these people recognise the subtly suicidal undertones to these behaviours. Most of these people also wouldn’t be able to give you any decent justification for their continuing existence on the planet. It’s a pretty easy sell.

Huddled into their dingy homes crammed with unused exercise machines and sporting memorabilia, glued to commercial TV banality, stuffing their obese bodies with fatty home delivered death, all the while decaying intellectually and spiritually, and refusing to participate in the affluent democracy that spawned them. All they want is someone to show them a product they can buy, that doesn’t require any effort on their part other than an outlay of cash, and that will solve all their problems – forever.

It’s just an idea at this stage and I realise I’d have to dress it up with some quasi-spiritual promise of wealth, stardom and beauty in some sort of afterlife. Not to mention a serious money-back guarantee, but I’m on to something, that’s for sure.

Oh fuck, I’ve turned into Satan! I gotta start looking for another line of work, I don’t think I’m very well.

The Wobblers – A Tale Of Two Bosses.

Posted in Tales From Hell with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on May 21, 2008 by Buck Frain

It was the worst of times, it was the worst of times.

The Wobblers have been at me today. Ah, it makes me want to throw up. Revolting, obese, mouth-breathing bitches breaking my balls for no other reason than the fear that I might one day show them up for their ineptitude. As if I give a shit. 

The Wobblers is the collective term I apply to my two bosses. Fuck, one would be bad enough but I have two of the rotten things. I call them The Wobblers because that’s what they do best – wobble. If you tried to make people out of blancmange and hate you’d make my bosses. You’d also be a complete arsehole and I’d fuckin’ hunt you down and kill you. 

My immediate boss, L.F. Ant, is a morbidly obese balding woman in her early 30’s with Bell’s Palsy so her face looks like half of it has gone on strike and is trying to run away. Who the fuck would blame it? As a result she can’t talk properly so I’ve put up a $50 bounty to anyone who can get her to say I was born on a pirate ship in public – no-one’s attempted it yet. I’m not a superficial human being and I don’t ordinarily judge people for their looks but unfortunately L.F.’s personality is even more unpleasant than her grotesque appearance so I feel justified in vilifying her vile exterior. She is very stupid, almost illiterate, completely incompetent and a mean, angry bitch. She’s got these fuckin’…I don’t know, they’re like bed sores, on her elbows… from holding her enormous bulk off the desk. It’s fucking horrible. She sits in her office munching Cheese & Bacon Shapes, Rasberry Bullets and anything else that comes within arm’s reach of her. Fuck I wish she would just choke to death.

Unfortunately, today was not the day. Instead of choking to death quietly in her office, she decided to give me my first bollocking for the week. I suppose I should be thankful I missed it yesterday. I usually get bollocked for something on Monday, when this first started happening I actually thought I was doing something wrong but now I know it’s just that two days of not bollocking anyone and the disappointment of yet another sexless weekend of binge eating and self-hate needs an outlet. It would seem that kicking piss out of your employees alleviates the pain of an empty existence.

Today’s bollocking began as a passive-aggressive rebuke over what she felt was an inappropriate comment – I acknowledged to a respondent that a question was poorly written. I’ve learnt it’s better to nod and smile rather than engage in any debate with L.F., she doesn’t have the academic skills to hold a cogent argument so you just get in worse trouble disagreeing with her. So I agreed I should have been more professional – if it happened again I’d do exactly the same thing, of course. Unfortunately, it didn’t wash. She really wanted to have a go at someone, and even worse, I suspected she wanted me to put up some resistance. This was very dangerous – you know that Hippapotamus kill more people than lions? It all came out, a back-catalogue of all my transgressions over the past twelve months. You were late on thith day…Tho-and-tho had to thpeak with you on thith day…I ekthpect a lot more from you…you’re ekthperienthed enough to know better… I could fuckin’ see her glancing over to the spreadsheet of misdeeds she obviously had open on her computer. I stuck to my plan – nod and smile, agree and apologise. Don’t run, she’ll chase and kill you. In the end she could see she wasn’t getting anywhere, she started to tire, she was about to let me go when her boss walked in. 

Her boss, my second, is Pat Schwerk, a not-quite-so obese South African woman in her 60’s. Not as stupid as L.F., she is bureacratic and thoroughly misanthropic. If she was green and wrote poetry, she’d be one of Douglas Adams’ Vogons. She’s got a squint so one eye looks through you and the other skews off into another dimension where I suspect she receives her orders straight from a source of immense evil.

What’s going on here? Brilliant! The whole story comes out again and all the patient back-peddling was for nothing. Two bosses for the price of one. Tag-teamed by fatties – I’ve been Wobbled! Fuck it! What am I eight years old in the head master’s office? This drives me mental. I want to scream into their faces THE QUESTION IS BADLY WRITTEN, YOU ROTTEN FUCKING BANSHEES! IT’S ABOMINABLY WRITTEN BECAUSE THE SPEC WRITER IS A MORBIDLY OBESE FUCKTARD JUST LIKE YOU TWO LOUSY SHIT-SUCKING SLUTHEADS!!! WHY DON’T YOU JUST KILL YOURSELVES? WHAT DO YOU HAVE TO LIVE FOR, YOU EVIL CUNTS??? FUCKING DIE!!!

But I need my job, thus conscience does make cowards of us all, or I’m scared to be without it. I continue to apologise and placate and the situation gradually subsides. After a time I can back away slowly and return to work.

Back at my booth, after a three seconds of being thankful I got out alive, reality descends on me like a brown cloud – they’ve won, they might as well have my balls one each in jars on their desks. I’m back out at work minus some spirit, without my balls, having taken shit from hideous beasts and I’ve come away with a bunch of their self-loathing. It’s not mine, I don’t hate myself normally. They’ve achieved something incredible. Evil, but completely incredible – they’ve transferred some of their self-hate to me. This is intolerable, it’s really fuckin’ sick, they are using management as their therapy. They must be stopped. DEATH TO THE WOBBLERS!!!

McDonald’s – Corporate Paedophiles

Posted in Rage Against The Machine with tags , , , on March 26, 2008 by Buck Frain

 

Baby Ronald

Fuck you, McDonald’s, you cunts! You pedlars of clown food, you corporate paedophiles. You purveyors of obesity for the masses. Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you!

There are so many reasons to hate a company like McDonald’s. Nowadays it’s more mainstream to hate them than it is to eat their food. Not that their business is suffering any – amazing considering the bad press and the docos. I mean, we all know their food has little more nutritional worth going in than it does on the way out. We all know that most of the people who claim to eat the healthy options are just lying to cover their burger-shame. We all know that the McMarketing Machine has spent the last few decades dedicated to indoctrinating children to lust after a potentially lethal diet, and that they’ve done so by selling shit in the guise of fun, friends, toys and a dodgy-looking clown.

Even the tobacco companies (when they were allowed to advertise) had the decency to aim their product at adults who, at least in theory, have the ability to think for themselves. What the hell kind of society lets a corporation make its coin poisoning children. I realise a lone cheeseburger never killed anyone, but the constant barrage of advertising across mass media has more impact on young minds than anyone dares speak about – perhaps for fear of being sued, but most probably because they’re too busy stuffing their holes with double quarter pounders and telling their hyperactive offspring to shut the fuck up and eat their fries.

But seriously, McDonald’s is a good corporate citizen. They don’t do super-size anymore. For fuck’s sake! Ronald McDonald House and an Olympic logo buy forgiveness for everything else. What the fuck? Even religion can’t manage scams like that. The church offers salvation and eternal life – still we still get upset when they finger the kiddies. McDonald’s bandy some logos around and show us a clown and we’ll happily buy morbid obesity and arse cancer for our kids with a plastic toy to promote some fucking movie we don’t want to see.

Why is there no Responsible Serving Of Food Legislation? Currently in Australia, people selling alcohol have to, by law, be certified that they are responsible in who they serve it to, and under what circumstances. Why should this not apply to food service too? Hah! That’d be great. I can just see a pimply teenager saying to the 25-stone behemoth at the counter: I’m sorry sir, I think you’ve had enough. Or: I can serve you but the little girl’s gonna have to leave, she’s just too big, mate. Can you imagine the outcry? All the fatties of the world would unite in a great chorus of: But it’s glandular! Glandular? Bullshit! You’re a gluttonous fat cunt, you’re stuffing your face every chance you get and weeping into your cheesecake. You’re a family-size food-junkie who’s shaping up to bankrupt the health system! I’m just big boned. Get fucked! When was the last time bones obscured your genitalia? The reason you don’t see it is because they’ve been fucking you since you were born.The clown is not your friend, he is killing you.

Why aren’t people up in arms about McDonald’s? Why aren’t the fuckers getting petrol-bombed? Is it apathy or just indoctrination? If you care at all I urge you: write to your MP, pass petitions around your to friends, families and colleagues, let the powers-that-be know that advertising to children is WRONG and shouldn’t be tolerated in a civilised society. We need companies like McDonald’s regulated before they turn our country into a nation of mindless, shit-sucking, fat bastards. Hmmm, maybe too late for that.

Does anyone remember Stephen King’s It? Wanna Big Mac, Georgie? They float. They all float and when you’re as fat as a fuckin’ house and they flush your bloated carcass out to sea to keep the Japanese off the whales, YOU’LL FLOAT TOO!