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If harry potter hadn't become a wizard.

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A Modest Proposal 2

It is a melancholy spectacle indeed for those who venture to visit the great super-sized cities of the You-ES-of-AYE, even more so to leave the clogged arteries of urbanity and wander amongst the wastelands of small-town america. The white picket fences are sagging. The flags are always at half mast. Our cultural waterways are stagnant, fetid. From sea to acidifying sea, freedom rings with like the hollow thud of a fading heartbeat, the death rattle of a once proud and magnificent beast. The sidewalks are empty and covered in refuse, harsh apocalyptic light shining on the bodies of bums decaying in the parking lots of a shuttered Red Lobster. Empty, bankrupt is the dream, but full and booming are the potholed roads—traffic jams of Jimmy John's delivery boys in overheated Toyota Celicas, armadas of Detroit's finest hauling Dominos to the masses, SUVs filled with grade-A gasoline and months worth of Totino's freezer pizzas gift-wrapped in Wal-MArt bags. Wnat to see a spectacle? Wild America in it's primordial state? Fuck Yellowstone. Fuck that Grand gutter of a Canyon. The real action is in the air-conditioned causeways and food courts of shopping malls; or during daily mass at the Church of Costco, where the gospel of the prophet Aidell is sung to the masses and swallowed like a greasy banger. The grand openings of Olive Gardens are frequented by All-American Buffet Lineman, with Captains of Industriously-Eating-for-Two. The American Dream is a Ben and Jerry's flavor. We are the United States of American Cheese filled Hot Pockets. We red, white, and bleu-cheese blooded americans, stand, on gouty knees, for the freedom to pursue life, liberty and the pursuit of Happy Meals for breakfast, lunch and dinner. We fight wars, send brave young boys with crew cuts and freshly-minted GEDs to die in dusty deserts and stifling jungles so that KFCs and McDonald's can spread to new lands, and so that we can drag simple savages into the light, filling their hearts of darkness with cholesterol and trans fats. Our olympians grow strong and fast by feeding from the Eat-Fresh tit of Subway five dollar foot-longs. While 21,000 people die every day from hunger, we are the land of opportunities for liposuction. 

I think it is agreed by all parties that the prodigious number of fatties taking up two seats on our buses and getting stuck in turnstiles are a major contributor in the present state of the kingdom; inflation in clothes sizes is a major problem too—at this rate my six-foot-four frame will equate to a children's medium by the end of the decade. We are a nation of fatty-blubber-butts, greedy-grease-balls sucking the world dry, a bulbous cancer intent on starving the world of every last drop of everything and licking are fingers after we're done, little beady pig eyes shiny with insatiable hunger as our gut mulches our second breakfast of four sausage egg McMuffin covered in a mixture of syrup and perhaps our own sweat—since there is no difference. 

Therefore, I think whoever could find out a fair, dollar-menu cheap and easy method of making these porkers into sound, of the republic, would deserve so well of the public as to have his statue set up for a preserver of the nation, alongside the busts of national heros like Colonel Sanders and Chef Boyardee. 

I shall now therefore humbly propose my own thoughts, which I hope will not be liable to the least objection.

We should repurpose fat people.

Killing them would be redundant and such a massive and expensive undertaking that it would stand alongside the building of the Great Wall of China and the construction of the Pyramids in scale and effort.

But something must be done. Good thing we have ample and fleshy material with which to work, and many problems that currently have no working solutions:

National Security is quite the issue, immigration too. Here we can fill two holes with one fatty solution—simply stack them on top of each other in a line running from the Gulf of Mexico all the way to San Diego and not only will illegals stop crossing the border, but all the U.S border patrol militias will be closer to their thick-necked relatives.

Want to avoid the next Katrina? Levee the levees with some grade-A porkers—that storm will rage like a conservative talk show host after an Obama press conference and New Orleans will be as dry as Buttertfinger wrapper after getting tongue-fucked by Kirstie Alley. 

What about that ISIS problem?—I don't think those ruffians have a cutting knife thick enough to saw through the robust neck of a homegrown American fatty! Let's drop a couple planeloads of flubber butts on Mosul and tell them that ISIS is responsible for Dunkin Donuts no longer serving crullers.

What about global warming? Shoot, piece of cake! Lets toss a bunch of Cellulite Satellites out into orbit, and their combined girth will reflect enough of the sun's rays to send us into the next ice-age, and while they're up there, we can use them to create a shield against asteroids.

Food shortages in third world countries? Lets stop building hydroelectric dams that don't help anyone and send em a couple cargo ships of fine American meat, perfectly aged, exquisitely marbled, and already marinated in its own salty sweat. Kobe beef is like Bologna compared to juicy American thigh meat. Hunger will be eradicated, peace will reign, the age of goodwill and causal cannibalism will spread to all corners of the globe. 

And for sport—which would foster positive relations among the nations fractured by years of strife in similar fashion to the olympics—we could have a Hunger Games-like international competition, except where impoverished people from all the world over compete against chubby Americans in arena full of perils—like bad water, inadequate shelter, corruption, the occasional poisoned Lunchable, you know, all the staple elements of a middles class lifestyle in nations other than the USA—and the losers get eaten.

What about police brutality? Shit, fire all the current police (except the fat ones, so probably only like half of the existing force) and replace them with the biggest hambones our society has to offer; a cop will have a helluva time unlawfully beating someone if can't catch em without suffering a coronary just getting out of their police cruiser. 

I profess, in the sincerity of my heart, that I have not the least personal interest in endeavoring to promote this necessary work, having no other motive than the public good of my country, by advancing our trade, by lessening the considerable burden fat people themselves carry both emotionally and physically—for it can not be pleasant to always be lugging around enough excess flesh to properly insulate one from an Antarctic winter while living in Houston, Texas, especially with global warming and all. 

I have no doubt, with the right reallocation of our fattest citizens, that the misery of these dark, woebegone days will recede like the hairline of a failed disney child star, and we will slip into a halcyon age, where everyone his thin and beautiful and young like Sarah Jessica Parker, and there will be no disorder—only coke addictions and anorexia.

The End.

Next week: A Modest Proposal 3: For preventing Rednecks to reproduce and being a burden to all

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"Somebody sent me their tooth, which I now wear as an earring. It’s a molar, I think. I love it when people send me body parts."

Dick Cheney 

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“To live without philosophizing is in truth the same as keeping the eyes closed without attempting to open them.”

Michael Bay

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"Summer romances begin for all kinds of reasons, but when all is said and done, they have one thing in common. They're shooting stars, a spectacular moment of light in the heavens, fleeting glimpse of eternity, and in a flash they're gone."

John Wayne Gacy

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"I had my first wet dream in a sleepin' bag."

John "Filliboner" Boehner 

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"Agriculture is now a motorized food industry, the same thing in its essence as the production of corpses in the gas chambers and the extermination camps, the same thing as blockades and the reduction of countries to famine, the same thing as the manufacture of hydrogen bombs."

Justin "She was Good" Bieber 

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“What's a fuck when what I want is love?”

Mitt Romney

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“I have no money, no resources, no hopes. I am the happiest man alive.”

Oprah

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"The universe is no narrow thing and the order within it is not constrained by any latitude in its conception to repeat what exists in one part in any other part. Even in this world more things exist without our knowledge than with it and the order in creation which you see is that which you have put there, like a string in a maze, so that you shall not lose your way. For existence has its own order and that no man's mind can compass, that mind itself being but a fact among others."

Mitt Romney

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“You keep runnin that mouth and I'm goin to take you back there and screw you.”

Mitt Romney to Paul Ryan

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Maps & Atlases

I'd drink their fuckin kool-aid

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The Top 5 themes songs of The Wire

Every man needs a code. And The Wire —the most realistic TV show since the Gilmore Girls— should be included in said code.

1. Season 4

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tNOTE7W5qts

2. Season 2

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ipaV4k2n__I

3. Season 1

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E1ABR4UpDSU

4. Season 3

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N4u6XdlM6pE

5. I'm only on season 4

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Catholic Spray: Captain Wolf

Fucking coolest band name of all time.

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An alcoholic beverage reviewed through amateur photography

Beverage: Monkshine

Style: Belgian Style Blonde Ale

Brewer: Unita

Alc. Content: 6.8%

Score on a scale of sober to drunk: Turbo Drunk

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5 Reasons I Hate Mad Men

1. Because every time I get drunk I think I'm Don Draper. The next morning is inevitably the most depressing morning I have ever experienced. 

2. Because drinking whiskey and trying to be creative is unsustainable.

3. Because every time I try to light up a Lucky Strike in a college lecture class people fuckin freak out. Fuckin yuppie prudes.

4. Because I major in print journalism and all the advertising majors I know are dickheads who picked their major based on TV show.

5. Because I'm not Don Draper. Straight-up Bullshit. 

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Gets progressively more awesome, kinda like a six-pack of Olympia Tall Boys.