I FORGOT TO ASK IF THEY HAVE A WENDYS

I am stunned.

Yesterday I learned something so disturbing, so unbelievable, so down right Un-
American that for a few moments after I read about this on the ‘Net, I was stunned.

Montpelier, the capital of Vermont, and in fact the smallest state capital in the country, with a population of 7,855 per the 2010 census, 54% of which are women, much to the pleasure of the local men, and home to the New England Culinary Institute and Ben & Jerry’s Ice Cream…

…does not have either a McDonalds or a Burger King within the city limits. (I know a woman who, while pregnant with twins, craved ice cream so much that she and her husband named their newly born twin sons Benjamin and Jerald…damn good thing it wasn’t Haagen-Dazs I suppose.)

This is shocking, to say the least (something I rarely do.)

It occurs to me that this situation is so anti-everything we believe in as Americans that, certainly, some measures must be undertaken to address this calamity. It is unconscionable that the good citizens of this fine, upstanding New England town are required to drive 7-1/2 miles to nearby Barre to get their Big Mac or Whopper fix. 

I think an all-out write-in campaign and media blitz must be launched to convince the corporate hoodoos from both the McDonalds and Burger King chains to look into this matter and take immediate action to alleviate this gross injustice. I urge all of you to please contact someone in Vermont (although the population of Vermont is just over 600,000 people, so it’s possible you won’t know a soul up there) and light a fire under them to get this travesty rectified.

Otherwise, people of the Green Mountain State, you can have no expectations of a visit from President Donald “Tweet ” Trump, given his affection for Big Macs, if you do not.

And I’m sure that Montpelierians (no way I could say that word three times in a row with a couple of adult beverages under my belt) will be as devastated as I would be by this possible snub from the Pres.

Speaking of orgasm allergy (as you can probably tell, I think segues are vastly over-rated), I recently, during one of my several-times daily perusal of MSN.com for my news fix, came across an article that told the story (plight) of a man I’ll call Mr. O, who suffered from…wait for it…orgasm allergy. 

Whoa.

It seems that Mr. O is a 50-year-old married man, and has suffered from this allergy since the age of 19. Every time he ejaculates, Mr. O “experiences fever, weakness, exhaustion, loss of initiative, headaches, disordered speech, irritability, forgetfulness and frightening dreams, not to mention swollen lips and throat.” Yeah, not to mention. (Needless to say, puberty was the only time sex was any fun for this poor guy.) Further symptoms include loss of a day’s pay, halitosis, hemorrhoids, taxation without representation, voting Republican and rampant mopery. (Oh, the picture above? I couldn’t come up with “art” to depict orgasm allergy, so I decided to throw in a photo of a woman riding an ostrich. Hey, I’m not perfect, okay?)

The article goes on to state that, “The symptoms are so severe that he and his wife plan intercourse for Fridays so he will have two days to recover before returning to work on Monday.” (Then it gets serious.) “HE ALSO SUFFERS FROM PREMATURE EJACULATION, SO THE PROBLEM IS NO PICNIC FOR MS. O EITHER.” (Emphasis was mine.)

Okay, I’m back up at my desk after falling on the floor laughing, although I’m sure there is nothing humorous about this matter to Mr. and Ms. O.

Shit, and I thought I had problems.

Interestingly, Mr. and Ms. O live in Montpelier VT, and there has been speculation by the various doctors there that have treated Mr. O that the lack of good ol’ American fast-food hamburgers could be a causative factor in his case.

So come on, Vermontians, let’s get cracking and get Mr. O the fat-laden, empty calorie burgers that will help him get on the road to recovery.

Because man does not live on ice cream alone.

Love and two all-beef patties, special sauce, lettuce, cheese, pickles, onions on a sesame seed bun,

Cap’n John 

 

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