Monday, November 3, 2003

ShadowedCloudX: talk about how ground beef is a misleading food

There once was a cow. His name was Cow. He was a really special cow. He knew he was a cow. But you know, he didn't know it in the right way that he was a cow.

He noticed that the journalist talked to him with a pen in his hands. He also noticed that the journalist talked to him with a condom in the pocket of his hands. He almost sighed and mooed at this rude sight of this object in the pocket of his hands.

Dilapoid: Shall I continue?
Dilapoid: Or restart?
Dilapoid: What is my master's consensus?
ShadowedCloudX: continue lad...I think you are onto something
Dilapoid: Yes master.

This condom Cow soon found was for the purposes of castration. Cow could not believe a journalist of all people could be this cold, and castrate someone such as him.

Cow had long been a family man. He would often sit outside the pents with his small family and be the man. He'd kiss his life in mooing enamority, and she'd moo back at him, saying he was such a man. The most man of any man.

And now here was the journalist, and he was asking Cow how it felt to be the father of three sons.

He couldn't believe it.

Cow had been a good cow, and this was a personal question. He left. He couldn't stand it.

And then he walked right into the arms of a nigger.

"Moooooooooo--what'cha wan' niggar?" said Cow. The slave, by then name of Jup, held Cow tightly.

"Wull dog my cats ef I didn' know wut I doin'." Jup let out a little smile. "I's doin' what I got' to, an' et be nice ef you' do what master say."

Cow could not believe this. He began bucking and fighting Jup as hard as he could, looking over his udder at his poor family, standing there.

"Mooooooooooooooooo--why dun't you guys hellllppppppoooooooooooo?!?" They only stared at Cow with the saddest faces ever.

Then the journalist walked over. He had a needle in his hands, it was bright as hell in the darkness. Cow thought it looked like a claw--something like the bears he had seen in his master's house through the window.

Soon the world was spinning like an empty bottle being spun in the wind. And soon, cow heaved over, his shoulders too heavy for him, his udder too heavy for his stomach.

Castration Porcedure Is Shown
Cow is castrated in front of reporters. Newly placed procedures make it not so messy.
By Mike Tyson.

Famer Jack Sparrow's an interesting fellow. He's owned his plantation for years and years. It's a fertile place.

"Me and me mateys live off our land," he says of his land. "And me an' me mateys, we came from this here land. And we ain't gonna let no stupid basthards aquiesce our rights, no we ain't." He lets off a little smile, pointing to his fence which holds all his animals. "I here's gots me the most amazing farm any matey could want. 'Tis really great."

He's been here since when his Father died in 1909. Since then, he's owned the farm with his wife, Bludy Marhey.

Recently, they have been slaughtering their cows with newer, more sophisticated equipment to stand up to the USDA's newer, more tougher policies. This included better castration techniques.

"We's now gots us condoms made 'specially fer cows. It's sorta like landin' a man on teh moon, really. Only it's mer of a sehual thing."

Instead of castrating the cows in cold blood, they now give them morphine, which often makes the cows pass out. It has also recently been shown the morphine, accomidated with some other drugs, it even fights mad cow disease, it is said. They also give them large masks to wear so they don't have to see it either.

"Yuh, we's give em masks," says his wife, Marhey. "Jus' like teh one Hannibhell Leuther wars." And then, her hands out as if to creep someone out, "Hullo Clarice."

Watching them castrate the cows still isn't a beautiful thing at all. It's far from it. Charles Loopeydoo, a wealthy banker, came out of his way to watch them do it.

First they injected the cow with the drugs, then put the mask on. Then, with a murderer's precision, Sparrow castrated the cow, blood flowing all over like some sick rain. Then he held the testes of it in his hands, squeezed them a bit.

"Dar's spurm in 'ere! I swears! Purfuct for arctifikal inseminkation!" Sparrow cajoles.

"It gave me mad cow disease," Loopeydoo said.

And it did. Loopeydoo was admitted into HellKitchen National Hospital May 20th, 1936. He's been dying ever since.

In closing, Sparrow says, "And this will be the day you remember not catching Jack Sparrow! Har!"





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