McDonalds. And a New Low.

Unlike some people I’ve known, I’m not a guy screaming for everything to be automated this very second. Yes I get frustrated in the Post Office line like everyone else, but I also know that there are tons of jobs out there that exist for the very purpose of allowing people to have jobs. Yes a machine can probably better put sequins on my “Muff Diver” ski masks, but there’s a lot of people in this country and they need jobs. Everybody can’t be making a living off my Etch-a-Sketch kiddie porn addiction. (“shake hard, watch Dora’s titties disappear!”)

Okay, I’m going to hell for that one. For sure.

But if automation does take over, can we please start with McDonald’s? For fuck’s sake has there ever been a business MORE set up to be run by a loaf of fucking bread? Ray Kroc was adamant about streamlining the damn thing pretty much down to “press this button;” there are more pictures on a McDonald’s cash register than in Andy Dick’s “Did Him!” scrapbook . Yet every time I’m trying to get my order in, I end up standing there thinking “Am I the first customer this place has ever had? And how DO black guys shampoo their hair?” Tonite I went to Mickey D’s with The Barber and ordered two cheeseburgers with no ketchup and two 4-piece McNuggets. Obviously, an order that would flummox Gordon Ramsey. As the girl stared down at the screen in front of her and waited for her friend Flicka to come from the back and kick her in the head to jump-start her tiny brain into actually working I, admittedly stupidly on my part, decided to add to my order. “Make that three orders of McNuggets.” Now the conversation went like this:

“Make that three orders of McNuggets.”
“You want three cheeseburgers.”
“No no, just two...I want three 4-piece McNuggets.”
“Three cheeseburgers and three McNuggets?”
“No..no...two cheeseburgers, and three orders of the McNuggets.”
“Which McNuggets?”
“The four-piece.”
“How many?
“T H R E E.”
“And a double cheeseburger.”
“Two!”
“Two.”

And then I made the mistake or re-iterating that I didn’t want ketchup on the burgers. This caused her to look up, roll her eyes at me as if I was an idiot, and shake her head sighing “hold on...now I gotta start over...” So now she has to get a “manager” to come over and punch some things on the computer screen....a screen on which I’m sure there are two buttons to choose from: “FOOD” and “PRESS HERE TIL CUSTOMER SHITS SELF IN ANGER.” Now, you should know that as I’m standing there I am face to face with a message on the little screen facing me that is bragging “average service time: 51 seconds.” Really? To keep the average at 51 seconds after the length of time I had already spent on this transaction, the next 50 people would have to have their orders transmorphed to them as they speed by in cars driven by Gary Busey.

Then, because I’m a fucking idiot and have no desire to get back to my house before they invent YouAnal, I ask about the McFlurry that’s in a big picture behind her, with what looks like maybe mint and chocolate.

“What’s that McFlurry right there?” (pointing to picture)
”That’s our newest one.”
”Yes, but what is it?”
“It’s this one.” (pointing to picture)
“What’s.....the...green...stuff....”
“It’s the green, mixed in with the chocolate.”
“Is the green stuff mint?”
“The Oreo McFlurry?”
(head explodes)

You can’t have a conversation like that in any other industry, can you really? Would be like transacting business with a hooker, right?

“I’d like a blowjob plus anal.”
“That’s $150.”
“Do I hafta wear a rubber if I wanna pull out and cum on a ham?”

Well. Maybe not EXACTLY the same, but ...

Anyway. And on. And On. And on. AND, guess what they did after all this? PUT KETCHUP ON MY FUCKING CHEESEBURGERS!!!!! I don’t even know why I pretend to be surprised anymore.








“Are you hard yet, Mister?”



Wow. Straight to hell.