Obesity: A Big Problem (See What I Did There?)
I'm never one to shy away from important, controversial subjects. So it's time for a look at the health issue that's caused the Grim Reaper to hire a tow truck: obesity.
A word of warning: if you're a fat person and you're offended by this article, I apologize—it's just a joke.... And if you don't accept my apology, I don't care—you'll never catch me!
Now, on to the meat of the article—and it's very meaty indeed today. I suppose I had better provide some pictures to stimulate your budding imaginations:
Notice the similarities between these two specimens.
This child's moobs (man-boobs) provide a perfect habitat for small woodland creatures that love dark, damp conditions. Weight Watchers are actually endangering these species by making people slim.
Fat people face tough lives. Many die young from childhood obesity. It is a pressing problem, because the little fatties get their arteries clogged up and die an early death when they collapse on the floor in a giant, spongy heap, incapable of continuing their journey through life while several tons of blubber cling to their frame, concentrated fat builds up in their veins, and every time they need to crap, a new challenge arises: they must first locate their anus, remove the obscuring rolls of fat, then squeeze out a particularly large crap through their vitamin-deprived colon, resulting in a backed up toilet and a large amount of brown water splashing up against their fatty bums.
I protect myself from fat murderers like her by taking a bag of diversionary donuts wherever I go. But fat people also bring great joy to society. Their very appearance is fantastically comedic: the bloated faces; the way the rolls of fat gather on their arms; the huge breasts; the way they waddle, shifting their enormous weight from side to side as they struggle to walk; the way they're always sweating and panting.... I could go on for hours about the comedic merits a fat person possesses, but then this article would get just as bloated. Besides, I'm sure we can all appreciate them for ourselves. In essence, without their consent, fat people are providing us with laughter every day, simply by gracing the perceptive eyes of modern society with their rather noticeable figures. A very warm thanks to you, my wonderful, warbling, whale-like friends.
Fat people also have the opportunity to participate in fat sex! Fat sex would be great—there's loads to grip, if you ever get low on energy there's bound to be plenty of warm snacks nestled in the deep reaches of the rolls, and you've got half an hour of great foreplay trying to locate (and clear a path to) each other's sexual organs.
But I'm afraid there is a dark side to obesity. The noisy approach of a fat person may well portend danger; take the example of notorious murderer Mia Landingham, who sat on, crushed and killed her boyfriend. I protect myself from fat murderers like her by taking a bag of diversionary donuts wherever I go. But beware—once a fatty develops a taste for human flesh, donuts may not be enough!
Furthermore, fat people's eating habits are funding the most despicable, evil villain ever known to man: Ronald McDonald. Hear me out. Everyone knows that in order to fight a war, a nation's troops must be fit. No one wants the West to be unfit more than Al-Qaeda. Therefore, it logically follows that Osama Bin Laden is Ronald McDonald. The FBI won't listen to me, but I appeal to your hearts, dear readers: stop the bloodshed by bringing down the evil demagogue Ronald McDonald!
Dear me, I've digressed somewhat. As I draw to the end of this piece, it's time to inquire as to what we can do to solve the obesity problem. A while back, the British government came up with the idea of compulsory dance lessons for overweight kids. Now you see, we've got two major health problems with the kids here in Britain: obesity and depression—and these dance lessons won't actually help obesity, while making the depression worse. I mean, think about it. The kids won't get slimmer, because they won't dance; they can't dance. You need a bloody electric cattle prod just to get them off the sofa. And then of course, the depression gets worse. Imagine, you already look like a beached whale, then a fit, toned dance teacher comes along and starts prodding you to do the bloody tango! Could your self-esteem possibly get any lower?
I do appreciate that the government is actually trying to tackle the obesity problem, but I think they should deal with depression first—what do you think has prevented the depressed fat kids from hanging themselves so far? Every time they try to do it, the bloody rope snaps.
Listen, fat kids don't want to dance, they don't want to kill people, and they don't want to support terrorism! Just give them some fucking Oreos and leave them alone!
So, what can we conclude from this article? Well, not a lot. Now put down that pie and give this article a nice big five stars.