i can make a better burger, cept not as fast

I had a dream I was eat­ing piz­za in what are now the long ago days

with Barack

and War­ren Beat­ty came to the ta­ble and start­ed in like he was gonna suck­er punch Oba­ma.

Then se­cret ser­vice came and es­cort­ed him to the dump­ster out­side.

Fuckin dick­for!

Turns out, Barack digs dou­ble mush­rooms on his piz­za also!

I thought I was the only one!

He said the girls don’t care for them, and Michelle is not a big fan, so he usu­al­ly went with the con­sen­sus, which was al­ways veg­gie with, get this: Av­o­ca­do AND pineap­ple!

He’d have the on duty cook whip him up some chili cheese dogs with onions some nights. Pineap­ple and av­o­ca­do!

Geez Louise!

And then the or­ange one show’d up and put ketchup on his steak.

Well done.

And that was the dream.

Not re­al­i­ty.

Maybe re­al­i­ty.
 

 

Fuck fast food. There are bet­ter ways to make burg­ers.

Mc­Don­ald’s fries are made with GMO pota­toes that kill bur­row­ing aphid lar­vae.
 

 

I can make a bet­ter burg­er, cept not as fast.

Uma­mi is key in burg­er world.

It is a sand­wich,
there­fore it must be able to be eat­en eas­i­ly with one hand af­ter the first ini­tial crun­chi­ty-crunch.

Too many top­pings sog out the bun and fall out the side.

Also, sauce is un­nec­es­sary.
 

A good burg­er will squirt a lil’ bit …

A lit­tle pink is a good thing. Maybe some red.
 

 

Also, cheese and onion in­ter­play is cru­cial in many vec­tors of food sty­ley, near­ly every cul­ture has that.

That whole ‘build-your-own-burg­er’ thing is a fuckin baloney pony ride.

Stick to the low-key cheese and onions,
with no more than two ad­di­tion­al,
and think it through.

Ba­con is easy,
but add mush­rooms and it gets awk­ward to keep them be­tween the buns.
 

 

And MAN­FUCK chik-fil‑a too!

What would Moby do?

We could save the chick­ens if we don’t eat them.
They are sooth­ing to watch.

There’s a South Amer­i­can poet by the name of Pablo Neru­da,

wrote a poem about chick­ens.
 

Chick­ens look up at us with tiny eyes as if we were unim­por­tant.
 
 

—rob­bie ed­monds

Flom­mist Rob­bie Ed­monds would love to sit down with you and dis­cuss his the­o­ries of mind-swap­ping and time trav­el, but it ap­pears as if he, as his cat, just left to stop him­self from do­ing so … AGAIN! Copy­right © 2017 Rob­bie Ed­monds. Im­age com­posed by mehal­lo.

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