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Thanks to the Fatso

posted by Chad on 3/15/02

I very rarely find my rants too harsh, but if I’m guilty of any recurring joke, it’s the ones toward fat people. While I find a lot of humour in jokes like “does a fat man want gravy on his salad” and “he was sweating bacon bits,” the truth is I’m starting to feel a tad guilty for judging people merely on looks. My judgments have been based on their biology rather than their personality, and that just ain’t right. So, after much self introspection – a bowl of weed – I realized what I needed to do to right my wrongs. Today, in a very special BigMeats article, I pay tribute to the fat man, and all the wonderful things in our world because of his gluttonous ass.

To the fatso, I give thanks for television.

Without those tubs of blubber, we wouldn’t have television. Sure, we all watch a bit of TV… but the boob tube is entertainment by fat people, about fat people, for fat people. If those human lard deposits hadn’t made television the cornerstone of our modern media, then I’d have grown up without Nintendo… and I’ve played video games longer than I’ve masturbated. I’m built off Nintendo. I still own a Nintendo. Hell, I played it last fucking weekend. While I’d rather take steel chair shots to the head than endure another Jerry Springer episode, I can’t imagine a world without tangled control cables and pixilated images. It’s a sacrifice for the greater good. The people of flab have indirectly played a role in our childhood games, and we owe them thanks for funding the display units Mario and Zelda call home.

To the fatso, I give thanks for fast food.

One out of every three Americans is obese, and without their fatty pours there wouldn’t be fast food joints within stumbling distance of my house. My hometown of MAYBE 20,000 people has 3 McDonald’s. If you leave my place good and drunk/stoned, it’s hard not to end up at good ol’ Ronnie’s. The wallets of the human whales have essentially funded the continual expansion of warm munchie environments, where everything on the menu is greasier than the oil slicks these walking heart attacks call skin. God bless super-sized fries.

To the fatso, I give thanks for shit on shelves.

If everybody was at a healthy weight level, then who would drive our trucks? It’s the long drives by the human Twinkies which bring all of the great toys to a capitalist venture near you. Do you know how much the mall would suck if they didn’t have crap to sell? These cellulite coated flesh bags are the sole reason we’re not forced to hunt down Doritos in their natural jungle environment.

To the fatso, I give thanks for spandex.

Actually, I think spandex should be giving thanks to the fat people, as only people with their own gravitational pull wear this skin clinging material. I’m not sure if fatties wear spandex because they can’t find anything with a fitting waist line, or because they figure that since they’re forced to look at those rolls of fat, we also should be subjected to their gluttonous body structure. Either way, I’m confused as to why I included spandex in this list of thanks. Hell, I haven’t even pretended to be nice to fat fucks this paragraph, I guess the game’s up. However, I am truly grateful for one thing that only the fat can provide…

To the fatso, I give thanks for the gunt.

Meatheads, I now have my digital camera, and look what it can do:

Oops… wrong picture… jeez, where did that come from? I’m now an artfag in the truest sense of the word. Hopefully, the ladies I’ll encounter on my gunt hunt will be fatter and more female than my fine self. This Saturday will be an exhausting grind through clothing stores, shopping malls, and the public transit system, all in search of the magnificent gunt. If you don’t know what a gunt is, then you have some reading to do. To those of you in the know, the highly popular gunt hunt is about to make another BigMeats appearance. The camera I now have renders an awesome image, so the female lead bellies will be experienced in their complete sweaty syrup goodness.

To kill time before I embark on my dangerous venture, you should check out PhatPimpClothing. They’re an underground clothing line for those who appreciate pimpin’ style: essentially, taking corporate logos and making them “fly” like my skinny white boy self. Ice, ice, baby. Since I’m putting my ass on the line in attempt to get these gunt pictures, the least you could do is help me score a free t-shirt. I’m taking the risks so that you don’t have to – so click the link and help a decent humanitarian out. All I need is 150 unique hits through to their site and this shirt is mine:

Lord knows that karma has me lined up for a force fed cheese session at the hands of some grimy old obese bitch, so the thought of a new t-shirt would comfort me in my times of induced binging. Of course, if you rather ignore my whoredom, then try to take a better self portrait than I did:

For the love of God, help me cover that bony chest!

More fatty fun: The First Gunt Hunt | Banging a Big Girl | Missy Elliot

-Chad “fouff = fag!!1”

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