How to eat like a good boy, own the libs, and make our big president proud
Hey, fellas. Colton, great to see you again. Brayden — I dig your new haircut. Nice weather we’re having.
Gentlemen, I’m sure you’re well aware at this point that we — straight, cis, white males in America, and more specifically Kansas City — are the most oppressed group of people in the history of this once-great nation. After building America from the ground up, we have been cast aside and left to fend for ourselves. The older among us — baby boomers, Generation X — had years to prepare for today’s regrettable shift in demographics and rise in progressive communist thought. We, on the other hand, have been dumped into the frying pan: burdened with college loan debt, horny as hell with nobody to fuck, and forced to fight the most critical battles of our age — Pizzagate, as one example — on our own and on an empty stomach.
My fellow Americans: those days are coming to an end. Fast food is now presidential. And so today, I’m proud to outline for you a valuable new tool for the Kansas City incel freedom fighter: the Midtown Scumbag Diet. Fortified by superfoods at these superestablishments, you will discover you have the energy to accomplish any personal goal, whether it’s gaming in a chair for nine hours, replying first to Daddy Trump’s next tweet, or checking in with your cousin Todd about that Kris Kobach internship opportunity.
Gates: As my favorite author, Dr. Jordan B. Peterson (still looking for a bootleg of his Uptown Theater set; DMs are open), would tell you: “Eat meat at any given opportunity. It’s always very good for you.” That’s why I like to go with the old standby of beef on bun with fries at Gates. Despite being crafted from potatoes, these fries, if entirely submerged, are the most efficient way of consuming the restaurant’s barbecue sauce. Good. Yes. Feel the sauce coursing through your veins.
Texas Tom’s: This place has it all, baby! Burgers! Biscuits! Seafood! Tendies! It’s like if Amazon was a greasy fast food joint with a drive-thru. The lights outside may flicker ominously, and the food may just barely taste like the word used for it on the menu, but boy is it a thing you can eat. If you plan on setting up a table in the courtyard at UMKC and wearing a diaper to own the libs, make sure to grub down at T-Tom’s first.
Pancho’s: Mindless, Trump-hating sheeple will tell you that our president is a racist. Have they forgotten the time he enjoyed a taco bowl prepared in his own Trump Tower Grill? Pancho’s unfortunately lacks this Mexican food staple, but fret not, as its burritos make a fine enough substitute. I prefer to skip the much-praised California burrito (steak, potato, cheese, pico) in favor of the more dignified blue-state option: the Texano burrito (chicken, potato, sour cream, cheese). Most menu items hover around $5, leaving you more money to send to the border wall GoFundMe page.
China Feast: I’ve never eaten here myself, and I’ve observed many a MAGA ally rendered immobile following a visit to the great China Feast. Plus, the Chinese are communists. Those are three strikes. But China is a tremendous global power, everybody is saying it, they’re really a very huge deal, and they’re killing us on trade. Know thy enemy and order some lo mein.
There you have it, boys. I know it’s rough out there right now. This woman who keeps calling herself “your girlfriend, Aaron” keeps pushing vegetables in my face and telling me to “better myself,” hoping that I’ll succumb to the MSM-Michelle Obama food agenda. No thanks. We must persevere. We live in the city. We participate in the gig economy. We’re the big boys now.
♦
