Chicken of the Sea

Well, hell. I am pretty bummed that the US government wrapped up and shoved overboard into our oceans the carcass of Osama-Used-to-Been-Laden. I know, I know. Cain’t build a shrine if thar ain’t no body to worship. Although even if Looney-Laden’s body were to be available for eternal viewing, there would still be NOBODY worth worshipping.

But, the decision to honor Muslim religious rites isn’t the cause of my discontent. Most religious rites suck ass anyway, so I say fuck all of ‘em. (Whoever came up with the idea of grieving family members viewing bloated, cold, dead people who have permanent clown make-up deserves eye-gouging and testicle-twisting because I’ll bet you it was a man.) I just think having his holey-ness (once the fishes get to him) under the sea taints all my future dinners at Red Lobster, even more than that God-forsaken BP fuck-up. All seafood will now and forever have an—I don’t know—rotten-mother-fucker taste to it. Anyone who eats future crustaceans will in effect be ingesting radical meat-o’-Muslim.

When the sharks that get ahold of corpse-Laden start washing ashore with the frozen expressions on their toothful little faces reserved only for those in the throes of rocket-powered diarrhea, don’t say I didn’t warn you.

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