Post by Captain Benjamin Maxwell on Jun 16, 2005 22:10:51 GMT -5
This logo is supposed to make you hungry.
Psychologists have long maintained that by using the colors red, yellow, and white, a human being can be made to feel hunger, almost regardless of when they last eat. I guess it works pretty well - why else would such massive numbers of otherwise-sensible adults be compelled to eat this crap on a semi-regular, or even regular, basis? Because it's good?
I think not.
Contrary to whatever this near-morbidly overweight, semi-conscious Ronald is preaching to these children, McDonald's is neither good, nor healthy for you, and yet...I can't stop coming back! Sure, my arteries harden a little bit more with each trip, and those annoying pains in my chest do seem to be coming on a more regular basis, but surely, there's no way everyone's favorite clown would dare harm anyone, right? I mean...he's a CLOWN!
Fortunately, McDonald's has taken into account the well-being of devoted followers such as myself, and has taken additional steps to see to the safety of its customers. See the McAmbulance in this picture? You got it. Courtesy transportation, non-stop, to the hospital of the company's choice, for those unfortunate occasions when someone's disgruntled Happy Meal decides to take matters into its own hands.
Not that this has ever happened, any time, in the history of mankind, however. I mean, come on. Let's think about it for a minute. How could this possibly be unhealthy? It has LETTUCE in it!
Where I live, in downtown Newport News, the food isn't the only thing that's dangerous at my local McDonald's. Situated in the heart of the demilitarized zone which separates the 'projects' from the 'hood,' the employees who man the restaurant's battlestations on a daily basis are war-hardened mercenaries who have seen it all. Or...eaten it all. I'm still not clear as to whether or not the symptoms of premature aging evident in even the youngest of its crew are due to stress or to the highly toxic chemicals they are exposed to during the daily food preparation. Personally, I'm leaning more toward the chemicals.
The management is nice enough. These two gentlemen seemed to run a pretty tight ship, and were actually fairly attentive to their customers. Every time I looked in their direction, without fail, one would inevitably ask "You want somethin'? Huh? Well DO YA??!?" Although I never actually needed anything from them, I'm sure that if I did, they would have been more than willing to comply.
Even the squeegee guy in the parking lot did a bang up job on my windshield.
But what keeps their staff happy? What ensures that riotous rampages don't break out in the middle of their dining room as West Side once again challenges East Side, Tyson takes on Hollyfield, and the Partridges square off against the Bradys? Is it the prospect of free food? Weekends off? Is their some magic, psychoactive quality about the bug zapper mounted dangerously close to the food preparation area, that is, perhaps to blame?
I think it has something to do with the strippers.
Okay, so, "officially," McDonald's doesn't employ clown-costumed exotic dancers to entertain mom and dad while the kids defecate in the McPlayPlace, but how else do you explain THIS?
That's right, in place of prominence, within the GhettoDonald's there stands a seriously bling-bling dancer's pole, bedecked with chrome appointments and gossamer wallpapering, kinder' like the one Thelma Loo used to have...prior to her unfortunate run-in with Bobby Ray's wheat thresher.
It's even topped off with a working Lazy Susan inset into the base, presumably for those quick pivots to collect money and Chicken Nuggets from the captive audience.
It's quite an impressive setup, and is totally in keeping with the balance of the restaurant's decor. In fact, I was so impressed by it that I was going to climb up onto it personally and take a picture. But unfortunately, the seedy-looking character who I entrusted my camera to, while I stepped onto the pedestal, took off, leading me on an eight-block chase before I was able to tackle him and get my gear back. By the time this was resolved, the dining room had closed.
But I'll be back. Twenty-dollar bills feel good...well, you get the idea.
Want to see it yourself? Just get on Mercury Boulevard and drive East, until you see this sign. You can't miss it. Beware of gunfire.
