When it's cold outside, I've got the month of May

Dear Ronald McDonald,


I heard that they made you take the beef juice out of your fries. I will be the first to say that that is a terrible shame for all of humanity. Even though your fries are still king in a saturated market, I for one will not sleep well knowing that there are some random and inedible cow parts we are not milking for their sweet juices to flavour your delicious potato product.

And you know what I like about you? Even though the Man stuck it to you, you’re still at the top. Sure, some people can provide “sales data” that may prove contrary to my claim, but as Homer Simpson once said: “facts, schmacts, you can use facts to prove anything that’s even remotely true.”

I suppose I should tell you a bit about me, your perfect mate. I don’t enjoy long walks on the beach, as I imagine you don’t or your makeup would melt or make you uncomfortable in that hulking costume. Which brings me to a question: Do you have multiples of that same outfit or do you just wear that one all the time? Is that clown showerhead that’s much too low to wash your upper body able to cleanse out the lower parts? I suppose that’s two questions but... too bad!

Also as your perfect mate, you will have limited access to my various areas of expertise, none of which are useful in a survival-pragmatism sense. If they shut off all the computers in the world, I would die. Zombies would find me quivering in a corner, unable to comprehend an insensible world. My brain would not be all that tasty, I imagine, because I exercise it all the time as the scientists like to encourage you to do (maybe they’re onto something?). In another survival scenario, if they shut off all the computers, I would be completely extraneous and after the other survivors were done toying with enslaving me, they would dispose of me by churning me into a delectable smoothie (blenders don’t need software).

If any of what I just said sounds appealing to you, call me anytime. Just remember: I’ll put my beef juice on your fries anytime.


Bovinely yours,


Don.