A few weeks ago, my college chums and I were embroiled in an intense debate around my kitchenette.
The discussion was fueled by a highly controversial issue that affects every American’s life.
That’s right, we decided to tackle that tumultuous topic,
“What is the best fast food?”
After hours of squabbles, filibustering, and cutting each other off by interjecting with a “BRO!” we arrived at three major conclusions:
1. McDonald’s is the most well-rounded, by far.
2. There is no perfect fast food, each has items of specialty (Ever get high as balls and go to a McDonald’s drive-thru just for fries then hit a Wendy’s solely for a Frosty?...Us neither, just saying….you fuck. )
3. Burger King never fails to disappoint.Like when it we had to be with our Dad every other weekend.
With the help said friends who also don’t know how to properly channel their energy, and previous research by Jon Hein from the Howard Stern Show, I will share with you why BURGER KING SUCKS HORMONE-INJECTED COW COCK
Burger King hates the kids
It’s true. As cute little target marketers we all loved the McDonald’s Playplace (especially for birthday parties). Nothing kept a 5-year-old lean and happy like scarfing down a Happy Meal followed immediately by racing through tunnels, cascading down slides, and sexually experimenting in the ball pit of the beloved McDonald’s recreation area. Burger King has neglected our youth by scarcely including these plastic and foam theatres of engagement, not to mention horrifying America’s children with its grotesque mascot.
While the wide-eyed toddler is welcomed to Mickey D’s by cuddly creatures like Ronald McDonald, the Hamburglar and everyone’s favorite, the Grimace, BK strikes fear into everyone’s heart with “The King”.
I submit that when Burger King’s monstrous dictator is off-duty, he’s lurking at the McPlayplace, coaxing kids into his Royal Van. Fuck Burger King, and dear God, think of the children.
The plastic face of evil
No one holds allegiances to the King
Golden Arches. McNuggets. All hail the Red and Yellow. McDonald’s has created an indelible mark in our hearts and stomachs. It’s key for a fast food chain to market itself properly. When we think Big Mac, we think McDonald’s. When we crave a Frosty, we envision the freckled pale vixen with crimson locks synonymous with the chocolaty delight. Sometimes I like to imagine her mixing it up for me, wearing only those little blue bows and a smile. Moving on.
WHAT THE FUCK DOES BURGER KING HAVE? NAME ONE ITEM BESIDES THE WHOPPER! I DARE YOU?
When have you ever heard a hungry companion exclaim, “Bro, I could house an A.1. Steakhouse XT Burger right now!”
NEVER. Burger King has no signature items, symbols, or passion in it’s products.
Oh wait; they have the world-famous chicken fries!
GET THE FUCK OUTTA HERE!!!!
IT’S A STRETCHED OUT CHICKEN NUGGET!
HAVE SOME INTEGRITY YOU BASTARDS.
I wouldn’t penetrate Brooklyn Decker with a fucking Chicken Fry.
I think the King’s advertising strategy went the way of the BK Taco…ugh.
The only time I'd want "flame-broiled" anything.
IT’S JUST SAD
We all know fast food is targeted at lower income households.
It’s a fact.
But everyone loves it.
How many times have we seen TMZ undercover photos of our favorite millionaire celebutards chowing down on some late-night Taco Bell or KFC. But to me, Burger King just reeks of poverty and desperation. I just don’t see Justin Timberlake willing to sing their praises.
Have you ever been to a Burger King? It’s a depressing place to be, somewhere between Haiti and Wal-Mart.
A brief anecdote: My friends are I were craving fast-food. Louis suggested a trip to Burger King, which I immediately shot down, invoking some of the arguments made above. But he was steadfast. Eventually I relented. We walked in, and it was like every Burger King I’ve ever been to. Overhead lights were flickering, the scarce tables seemed to be teeming with bacteria of past occupants, and the obese, depressed staff could barely put an order together.
I looked at the bathroom and imagined all the illegitimate children born on its floor.
Eventually, it became clear to Louis and everyone else that we had to leave. Immediately.
When we entered a nearby Wendy’s, we were greeted with shimmering tables, pleasant cashiers, and those Downy-soft yellow napkins.
It was that day I vowed never to return to a Burger King, and to write this post.
There are many more reasons to plan a military coup against the Burger King, but I think I’ve provided enough of a significant argument against something really no one likes to begin with.
That’ll be $8.93. Do you want honey mustard?