On sidestepping hideous diets by becoming the world's shittest foie gras goose: today's TERRIBLE advice
FB’s “TERRIBLE advice” group births GLORIOUS creative chaos. It’s funky. It’s fab. It ups life’s Good Bits. Do try some:
Ashley asks
The diet i gotta follow for a medical test tomorrow is pretty fn disgusting and I cant deal.
Only allowed plain white rice and ONE protein per meal (tofu/beef/chicken)
NO seasonings/salt of any kind, NO oil/butter/greasing agent of any kind on anything incld meat for breakfast/lunch dinner at wierd specific times
Only eggs allowed at breakfast (no salt, nothin)
Black coffee/tea w no sugar (i drink coffee black)
No juice/pop/anything w sugar.
So yeah its fn disgusting.
What dooooo?!?!?
My answer
Oh god. Just reading that diet list gives me the willies. Why don't you just cut out the middle man and slit my throat on the spot? But okay. You ignite Gondor's signal fires and broadcast the Bullshit Bat-Signal and we are oath-sworn to respond.
Let's see now. Loopholes, loopholes ... oh, man. Too easy! Simply:
Force a bill through your local seat of government legally reclassifying you and your kin as geese (and "kin" is whichever demographic generates greatest publicity and most hilarious clickbait upon completion of the headline "CULINARY AVIATRICES ALSO SUBSUME $GROUP_X LIKE KATAMARI DAMACY OR THE ORB IN THAT FAB ASTARTES MOVIE [1]");
Pick a fight, a vast screechy multi-generational grudge match, with your nearest savage pack of French chefs.
You'd best also wear a pantomime goose costume to allay any suspicion. They'll immediately abduct you into their factory-farm Foie Gras gantries, shove a tube down your throat, force-feed you all manner of hideous delicacies, and get you wonderfully fattened up for slaughter later in the season. Conceal an anti-tank rifle inside your goose costume so you can make a bid for freedom when the time is right.
Breaking your medical diet is hardly your fault if various dickheads are literally forcing you to break it, yeah? Bonus points if you can convince these rogue chefs via strategic goose-honking that geese who'd fattened on ... I dunno, chocolate cake (or whatever your favourite food is) is the latest new fad amongst ... I dunno, Instagram bubble-buttock construction crews, or TechnoTradFems, or whichever social group is currently most sloshed with undeserved dosh. These latest goons will apparently pay a pretty penny for chocolatey geese like you, yumyumyum, so get scoffing.
Best of all, if you get a chance to communicate your circumstances to the doctors originally prescribing this medical test, be sure to give them the impression you're violating their diet specifically to anger them. Then, when a second pack of furious doctors arrives on the chef-pack's doorstep to kick your ass, only then alert the doctors to the chefs. With any luck the two gangs will be evenly matched and kick the everloving shit out of each other to the last woman. Then loot their wallets and order a pizza. You've earned it, you lucky devil.
[1] Fab Astartes movie? No seriously it's amazing, do watch youtu.be/O7hgjuFfn3A
Original: https://mikeyclarke.co.nz/blog/2022/5/on-sidestepping-hideous-diets-by-becoming-the-worlds-shittest-foie-gras-goose-todays-terrible-advice
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Bullshit Hors D’oeuvres: TERRIBLE ADVICE posts
Enjoy this snazzy sampling of hintCLICKABLEhint crowd-pleasers:
On the sublime wisdom in showing every nosy goddamn therapist who's boss: today's TERRIBLE advice
““I beg of you, don’t unleash Jordan Peterson on us again!” Nearly spit out the coffee with that one! Can always come here for a good belly laugh 🩵”
On rejuvenating shite grub into exquisite ambrosia by guzzling pints of 800C+ molten salt: today's TERRIBLE advice
“I have absolutely no idea where your brain comes up with this stuff, but it gave me a laugh. Lol!”
On scheming bitches, Antarctic science side quests, extra-gorgeous ponies, and the Zodiac Killer: today's TERRIBLE advice
“What really impressed me is the hidden discipline underneath the silliness. People see chaos. I see structure. Every callback reinforces the central absurdity. Every tangent eventually loops back to the original premise. Every joke increases the pressure on the same narrative balloon.”
Bullshit Banquet: the SEXYVERSE NOVELS
*ahem*
IN A WORLD where wars are fought with romance and flirting and delicious erotic TENSION, the rivalries throbbing between history’s Great Powers have become a BUTTLOAD more bubbly, with fewer hideous massacres of musket and cannon, and OODLES more frisky cunnilingus contests:
The Sex Commandos Thwart The Third Vaginal Apocalypse
Part One: The Knights Of Raw Phwoar
Might Earth’s free nations drown under terrifying tornadoes of French femme-foam? Like hell, shout Britain’s Royal Marines Sex Commandos. Let’s assassinate France’s Imperatrix Brigitte Bardot! Come on. What’s the worst that could happen?
Part Two: The Soviet Sluts Superb
Turns out out-flirting Imperatrix Bardot is like trying to wank off Mt. Blanc when it’s wanking you back. Plan B: skedaddle, regroup, out-flirt the entirety of France and get loads more practice, then it’s stealthy-sneaky Round Two or bust.
Part Three: The Cervical Supremacy
Turns out flirting with every ladybro Rambo in France produces Rivals and Frenemies and Jilted Waifus galore. Smashing fun, but utter Kryptonite for Imperial kill-plans. Like, ever tried noshing off a world leader whilst a billion fanb0is fondle your buttocks? Want to? Read on!
Part Four: The Praetorian Prostitutes
The game’s up! The irresistible force of fanb0i-fondlemania has headbutted the immovable object of a gazillion furious Paris cops. They too thirst for Sex Commando patoot. Crunch time. Either launch one final rocket-strike against Bardot and France, or Earth’s free nations forever perish.
Part Five: [soon, baby]
Click these and enjoy these and your appetites will be SATISFIED.
Bullshit Emeritus: YOUR TURN
Fancy some boutique TERRIBLE advice of your own? Comment your question or dilemma, and I’ll magic up something deliciously wicked to put a smile on your face, just for you. You put yummy in my tummy, you know that?