What are the people of the internet prattling on about now? Why, let us tell you!
None of us are really surprised, right? We don't go to McDonalds because we think our body is a temple. We go because it's cheap, it's tastes disgustingly good, and to spite our arteries, those fussy little bastards. So these photos, while gross, are not shocking. In fact I was kind of expecting worse. Slime mold in the ice cream machine tray? I'm just glad the ice cream isn't secretly bat guano. Grimy sludge underneath a cart? At least it's not all the human fingers that get swept under there whenever a sleep deprived cook chops a digit off. And though I sympathize with our brave whistleblower for being fired, I'm relieved he didn't end up "accidentally falling" into a deep fryer, ultimately ending up in someone's order of "chicken" nuggets.
But few hold a candle to Coca-Cola's 1985 beverage gotcha "New Coke," which replaced America's beloved carbonated brown drink with a different carbonated brown drink, and nearly caused our nation's cities to be burned to their foundations in protest.
Now it appears our soda pop betters have since killed off those memory cells and decided to try it again. "Coke Zero Sugar" - a new look and taste for Coke Zero - will begin rolling out across America in August. Sure, Coke Zero Sugar will have a cool, updated bottle, but it will also contain a bastardized beverage that tastes more like regular Coke - which not a single one of its legion fans wanted or asked for. This travesty has even brought political foes into rare agreement.
As a friend of Cracked notes: "It's cool, Coke. It wasn't like that was the last small thing in life I enjoyed."
Sarah Huckabee Sanders announced she would start press briefings by reading an email or letter. People seem to think this is shameless propaganda made up by Trump's press team, but-
"My name Dylan but every body calls me Pickle. I'm 9 years old and you are my favrit President."
Well this still isn't proof that they're making it up, I mean I'm sure that plenty of children would want to- wait, did he say his name is Pickle?
"I like you so much I had a birthday about you."
Lots of kids have themed birthday parties, it's still believable, and it's not like he says he made a cake effigy of Trump or anything.
"My cake was the shape of your hat."
Uhm. Okay. I mean. That's a bit unusual. But kids like cakes in the shape of things, and I suppose a MAGA hat is a shape that a cake could take. But hold on I'm just... again, his name is Pickle, though? That sounds familiar... oh right, it's the actual name of Mike Pence's cat. So out of all the possible human nicknames, this real boy's happens to be Pickle? Hmm.
"How old are you? How big is the white house?"
Phew, normal kid questions. Pickle might be a real, breathing child! A child who has the uncanny ability to mail a letter without there being any visible creasing where it would have been folded and place in an envelop, but still.
"How much monny do you have?"
Okaaay, getting a little bit in the territory of what an adult would think a child wants to know about them, but still... Pickle might just be inquisitive.
"I don't know why people don't like you."
"You seem nice can we be friends?"
"My pitcher is in here so if you see me you can say hi. Your friend, Dylan."
Wait, excuse me? Why didn't he sign it "Pickle?" Something isn't adding up, here.
If you have just under a million bucks to drop on something fun, how about you buy this totally not haunted Clown Motel? In scenic Tonopah Nevada, this cozy little motel is nestled beside a bucolic cemetery. And lest you think the name "Clown Motel" is just a soulless marketing gimmick, rest assured, there are clowns in the motel! Lots of them! More than you can possibly keep safely within your field of vision!
Just... just so many clowns. Innumerable. Unblinkingly keeping you within their cheerful gaze.
Haha, how cute! I'm sure that head doesn't swivel on its own accord in the middle of the night while you try in vain to slumber. I mean come on, it's not like this is a cursed motel that torments the owner with clown demons until she (or he) manages to convince some sucker to buy it. That's ridiculous, so come on buy this motel please it's full of fun and scented soaps. Please merciful God somebody buy it.
Rep. Blake Farenthold voiced his displeasure with the failure of the ACA repeal by expressing a desire to hold a duel. This being the internet, we've all been threatened with duels from time to time. It's the ultimate act of fangless machismo. "I'll duel you!" sounds more like a threat from a Yu-Gi-Oh nerd than an actual badass. And honestly nothing you say can be intimidating after you sport a pair of blue ducky footsie pajamas, the very same worn by Tracy Morgan in this Wheat Thins commercial.
Congressman Farenthold (or Ducks McQuacks as I like to call him) tries to give himself an excuse by claiming the only reason he isn't brandishing a pistol and slapping people with gloves is that the pesky senators stopping the repeal are delicate ladyfolk from the Northeast. No, this polite gentlesir only offers to ritualistically murder other men. So you're safe for now, m'senators.
The true poignance in this photograph is not the outfit Nic Cage is wearing. It's his wan, distant expression, the infinite pools of sorrow that are his eyes. Nicolas Cage is the battered shell of a man who has seen the death of a civilization, or the yawning expanse of nothingness. He is a haunted husk of the vivacious being he once was. He was apparently in Kazakhstan to spread good will at the Eurasia International Film Festival, and instead had his spirit sucked out of his body like a spaghetti strand. If you think this was just an off-moment captured by the camera, there's another photo of the event in which his expression is equally hollow.
Nicolas Cage has gazed long into the abyss, and the abyss has also gazed into him.