July 3rd: Helping America Get Back in Shape Above: Actual screenshot from MSN. Hopefully the article "Swimsuit screen saver" isn't related to the stock photo of two fat people stuck together. America is now almost seventy percent overweight. That means that if you're alone with a person and they aren't fat, you're fat enough for about two people. There's no excuse for it. Yesterday I ate a fat free cheese dog. Science has actually created a world where you can eat a non-fattening cheese-covered hot dog, and no one seems to be living in it. Food doctors have gotten Pepsi down to one calorie and made it so you can take a candy bar, smother it in sour cream and gravy, and it's all fat free. How can anyone still be overweight? Local news stations all around the country are constantly telling us how obese we are. Every week there's a new study about how strapping three hundred pounds of butter to the inside of your skin can lead to heart disease and eat attacks. Your action breaking news station is probably at the mall parking lot right now filming anonymous waddling asses for stock fatty footage. Of course, you'll forget all about how you're not supposed to be fat after you hear their shocking new studies showing how baby aspirin might make babies explode. And then you'll forget about that when you find out a local man has won a national stamp collecting contest! "Our top story: most of you viewers want to eat me." Our local news tells us fat is wrong, and the opposite gender's genitals tells us it's wrong, so how are we still massive hog creatures? Maybe it's because grocery stores are stocked with little motorized cars that make it so fat people can take a regular car to the grocery store and then get in a smaller, more humilating car that takes them to the Twinkies. If fattys play their cards right, they can eliminate walking completely from the Twinkie-eating process. And who knows, with robotics and trained animals, maybe someday they can get rid of chewing and swallowing too. Well dream on, fatty. Science is a little busy to be making your artificial Twinkie-generating stomach implant. Some might think we're so overweight because our modern TV is so riveting. Just last week, some show called Fear Factor put a bunch of reality TV idiots into a box filled with live rats. I can understand wanting to see crazy shit like that, but if you ever find yourself with a gut and decide not to do a few situps because the guy from Iron Eagle is on Ally McBeal, you fucking deserve that gut, fatass. And if you somehow have the kind of meatheaded shitbrain it would take to sit in front of the TV after the rats are done eating the gameshow contestants, remember this: you can still do jumping jacks while the TV is on. You're not going to miss a thing. No amount of hopping and panting could drown out Miss Cleo's grating cacophonic voice, and I'm sure whoever's unlucky enough to have sex with her can vouch for that. Now if you've got a weak stomach and don't want help picturing Miss Cleo having sex, do NOT read the following: Miss Cleo: "Ah, mon! De Hanged Man card say for you to take off your pants for Miss Cleo, child." Loverman X: "Shut up! SHUT UP!!! YOUR VOICE IS LIKE GONORRHEA OF THE EAR! I WANT TO DIE!!!!" Miss Cleo: "Ahhh, de Seven of Pandas say you need to be puttin' your penis UP IN MY BUSINESS!!!" Loverman X: "When I get untied, you'll be drawing the Seven of my FIST! JAMAICAN VOODOO WHORE!" Action Advice: I want to urge everyone to never make fun of tarot card readers. It isn't like when you make a joke about Siegfried and Roy such as "Siegfried and Roy walk into a rowboat and fuck each other's exotic cats," and they get you back by sending you pictures of themselves naked in romantic historical settings giving blowjobs to each other's exotic cats. Miss Cleo has been floating outside my window for two days turning my skin into thorny warts and my furniture into snakes. Thanks to a tarot curse put on me by Miss Cleo giving me an enhanced sense of civic duty, I'm compelled to help America lose the tragedy of obesity. This has been attempted in the past by brave individuals such as the guy who invented non-milkshake based food, hoof and mouth disease, and the Hamburglar. All of them were unsuccessful, but I took many of the things they learned, added some trap doors, and came up with a brand new plan: reviewing retarded fitness videos. Bad Candy Mark donated "Chair Dancing," and a local Good Will traded me "Oxycise!" in exchange for me not racing their wheelchairs anymore. On to Part Two Part One    Part Two    Part Three    Part Four    Seanbaby.com