Tag Archives: craptastic eatery

Not What You Were Looking For? Episode Three: The Search For Cock

09 Monday Aug 2010

Posted by in Baseball, Crime, Critters, Culture, Drug Culture, General Foolishness, Music, People, Race, Sports, World Affairs

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By Smaktakula

Presenting the third installment in our wildly popular series: Not What You Were Looking For?  In which we list some of the search engine terms (indicated in bold) by which you found us, and for which you should rightly be ashamed. 

You might also enjoy Still Not What You Were Looking For?  Conversely, you might really dislike it.  It’s not for us to decide.

promeethean times  And wee’re off!

cock riders  The preferred term is Weekend Motorcycle Club.

unemployment lazy   Yeah, folks weren’t too crazy about that one.

skankist  You’ll want to keep your eye out for our upcoming multi-part expose on skankism, ‘Skanks In The Crosshairs,” appearing some time in the next few weeks.  In the meantime, please enjoy.

sexy dick in mouth non  Oui!

obama rethinking marijuana  Will he rethink that rap video?

be glad you’re not that guy   Oh, we are.

sexy man spaghetti  Um.

anti george sherrill  You’ll find a home here, friend.

jay bush bean prison  If he’s not on the lookout for canine chicanery, Jay Bush might very well end his days in a Mexican jail.  And for Duke, the glue factory.

athretes  Their parents taste rearry, rearry good.

michael lohan cock  Isn’t he though?

fred phelps secret  The secret is that he’s a raging homo.

fat people running  Hmm, there’s something about this . . .

children running of the bulls spain   . . . and this, that gives Smaktakula hope that with some creative thinking, America might someday lick its little obesity problem. 

donkey cock   Are we naive to believe that you’re an early Eighties video game enthusiast with comically poor spelling?

walt stoelting blog  Sorry, Comrade–You’re thinking of Walt’s blog, Ruminations of a Junkie for Politics, or as we call it around here, Confessions of an America-Hating Man-Jezebel.

wyclef jean val jean bernard aristide  Oh, very clever.  We see what you did, combining future and former Haitian presidents Wyclef Jean and Jean Bernard Aristide with Jean Valjean, the doomed protagonist of Victor Hugo’s 19th Century French masterpiece, Les Miserables.  Actually, that is pretty clever.  And pointless.

pauly shore weed  It would explain a lot.

safe horse fuck movies  We know what all four of those words mean, but they don’t seem to work as a quartet.

miley cyrus delusional  Totally.

abigail folger  Isn’t she the young lady Tiger banged as an undergraduate at Stanford?

olive garden people   They’re not people.  THE FOOD IS PEOPLE! Oh, wait–no, sorry; the food is crap.  We were thinking of Soylent Green.

the violence and madness of arab muslim  Sounds like you’ve got your title all picked out.  We can’t help you.

nurses with dreadlocks Uh huh.  Good . . . very good.  Okay, now tell us what they’re wearing.  TELL US WHAT THEY’RE WEARING!

beautiful dreadlock guy  He’s not blond, we can tell you that much.

pakistani penis  Unfortunately, we’re out of that particular link.  How about some Turkish Tool?  No?  Mauritanian Meat-Sword?

elderly remote  Old people should not be allowed to handle the remote. 

penis in bosses mouth   Shh. Hush now, Boss.  Smaktakula isn’t paying you to talk.

dirty mullet  Is there any other kind?

happy thoughts  Happy to oblige! 

drugged raver  Fish in a barrel, man.  Fish in a barrel.

lorena bobbit and bull penis  We’re unclear as to what you hoped to find.  No, that’s quite all right–we don’t need to understand.

live aid  Damn it, Freddie Mercury, we hope you die! . . .What?  He did?  How? . . . Oh . . . Oh God, no. Why doesn’t anybody tell us about these things?  We’re so, so sorry.

asshole hairstyles   So do you mean . . .?  No, we’re sure you mean hairstyles that make you look like an asshole.  Pretty sure.

k2 inhalants  Thanks to Chinese technological know-how and the can-do spirit of the sweatshop, stoners now have a legal chemical alternative by which to get their fix.

black man cock  Really?  In 2010?  Promethean Times doesn’t judge a man by the color of his penis.  We do judge by length and thickness, however.  You have been warned.

vagina  Okay, this one’s a fake.   It’s just that all the Promethean penii make Smaktakula a tad insecure, and he wants to assure you he is such a virile He-Man that the all the pipes on his vast estate flow not with water, but rather with hot and cold running chicks.

Promethean Times thanks you, the lonely Internet phallophiliac, for making us America’s fastest-growing CockBlog!

Facebook Probably Isn’t Looking For Us Either. But Screw Them. Do You Sheeple Always Do What You’re Told?

Commercials We Do Not Like: The Olive Garden

23 Friday Jul 2010

Posted by in Art, Commercials, Corporate Culture, Culture, Food, General Foolishness, People, Relationships, Social Networking, Television

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By Smaktakula

The Olive Garden has been crapping out adequate fare for nearly thirty years, all the while striving mightily to frame itself as the workingman’s access to continental dining.  Targeting those customers for whom the Red Lobster is too provincial, the Olive Garden aspires to bring the charm of an idealized Old World Italy to such unlikely spots as Lexington, Kentucky or Elko, Nevada.     

These Ample Eaters Are More Representative Of Olive Garden Customers Than Are The Beautiful People In The Commercials

No one begrudges Olive Garden’s right to pass off its inedible fare as authentic Italian.  Americans have long been tolerant of such culinary bastardizations, preferring them in most cases to the authentic ethnic dishes from which they came.  However, as understandable as Olive Garden’s right to make a profit from the insensate palates of gastronomically-benumbed Americans may be, their commercials venture into the realm of the unforgivable.     

One familiar commercial features a laughing group of family members engaged in spirited non-stop conversation about the food set before them, thrusting lightly with their forks at one another’s plates, merrily sharing food.      

Any real gathering of an American family that doesn’t include drunken recriminations and acidic passive-aggression is a sham.  Moreover, in the current climate of bacterial paranoia coupled with orgiastic overeating, anyone foolish enough to attempt snatching food from a neighbor’s plate is most likely to end the encounter with a fork jutting from the back of his hand.     

Another commercial features a similar assemblage, this time a group of upwardly mobile, physically fit and improbably racially diverse friends.  Like the aforementioned family, the hot young pals can think of nothing better to discuss than the fine fare at Olive Garden, until one asshat kills the conversation by declaring his intention of “doing the alfredo.”  Outside of their boorish behavior, these people bear very little resemblance to the mouth-breathing hominids one is likely to encounter within the stuccoed confines of this craptastic eatery.     

Olive Garden’s most memorable campaign is also its most odious.  It should be familiar by now: an unctuous voice, oozing with manufactured warmth, intones at the close of the commercial, “When you’re here, you’re family.”     

Really?  Unless it’s a tacit guarantee that the meal will be free, promising to treat the customer like family is cynical glibbery of the lowest order.  It’s doubtful that many people will recall Mom charging $14.95 for a lackluster plate of spaghetti with the promise of unlimited salad and MSG-encrusted bread sticks.     

And last is this commercial, which informs us breathlessly that “At Olive Garden, ‘generosity’ begins with a G,” clearly ignorant of the fact that the word also begins with a G throughout the United States and many parts of Canada.  However, the unconvincingly accented narrator goes on to remind us that at Olive Garden, generosity ends “when you are happy,” which sounds a lot like this Chinese massage parlor that Smaktakula knows about.