MAKING DISNEY PALATABLE

If you know me, you know I never pass up an opportunity to put a corporate mascot deep into my lower GI tract. Especially when watching championship National Football League football.

It's a life-rule I snagged from Theodor Adorno. (I call him Teddy.)

The experiment began about two hours ago, just as the San Diego/New England AFC Championship game was starting. I opened the box and found eight logos of processed beef in a plastic bag. Thus:

My mouth began to water, but I had to resist the urge to tear into the bag with my teeth and start gnawing, rat-like, on the frozen patties. This was an occasion.

Oh, yeah, I wasn't fucking around. Besides which, I suspected I'd need the most perfect food invented to trick my taste buds into getting the mouse flesh down. Time to cook the symbol.

Does this look familiar to anyone else?
Yeah, I thought so, too. The halo of grease resulted in a marked increase in salivation. (Tom Brady just got intercepted in the end zone.) I tried to use cheese to make a political statement.
I think this says a lot about...censorship? I'm going to say censorship. Like, the extra sharp cheddar cheese represents the media and the Mickey Mouse-shaped hamburger patty represents... Dennis Kucinich? Maybe Ron Paul. But why would the mother of all logos represent freedom of speech? I guess it's ironic? Yeah, irony.
It's almost like he's winking at me. Like he knows the two of us are about to embark on an adventure unlike any other ever attempted by man. Or woman. Or mouse logo. (We all know where that bacon's going. Yeah, you're jealous.)
This one represents man's inhumanity to mouse. And bacon. And lettuce. Can't we all just get along? IN MY STOMACH!
The image of masculinity. The burger was extremely standard, with the exception of the awesome bacon and nice bun I threw on there. The only difference between the Mickey burgers and any other frozen patty was that this one came with stickers of all your "favorite" Disney characters. And it had ears.

It was also not standard in that the ears were cooked and done while the middle face portion was gooey and gelatinous. There's nothing I hate more than sinking my teeth into a gooey, gelatinous, underdone face portion.

I threw it back in the frying pan: hopefully I won't be dead by morning, struck down by some Disney-designed salmonella variant.
But if the autopsy turns up any cells shaped like this:
You'll know what the cause of death was.

(By the way, Tom Brady is a football robot. Can't wait for that Packers game. I want to see Eli Manning break in half in the cold.)

Special thanks to Mike Lyon for encouraging me to investigate the Mickey Burger phenomenon.