UAG

Spotted At Target

Pictured above, cruelty to children.

An Open Letter To Papa John of Papa John's Pizza

Dear "Papa" John Schnatter of Papa John's Pizza,

Dude. You are too fucking YOUNG. When I first heard of you in Atlanta, I was picturing your classic jolly, fat Italian man with a chef's hat playfully worn askew, possibly sporting a black mustache and winking at the camera. A stereotype, to be sure, reinforced by years of Yellow Pages ads and takeout menu clip art. And once I actually sampled my first delicious slice of Papa John's hand-tossed BBQ Chicken and Bacon pizza, that image morphed into a chubby cheeked older man– possibly balding– but still with a jaunty kerchief and a fat belly under his apron. And you were either tossing some pizza dough in the air or doing that Italian thing with your fingers that either indicates "okay" or "delicioso!" Yeah, that was a good image.

So imagine my dismay and disappointment when I finally see a photo of you in a menu. You look like you're only twenty, son! You have a lustrous full head of hair, and worse than that, you're not even fat. I might as well have seen a photo of a skinny albino Bangladeshi girl in a pizza apron, or a robot praying mantis with pepperoni dreadlocks. Or Blanka from Street Fighter.

I will admit, "Papa," it is very impressive that you've created a multi-million dollar empire of more than 3,000 franchisees worldwide at such a tender age. It's a credit to your ingenuity that you've accomplished so much while still looking like the kid who passes out at a party and gets the word "SMEGMA" drawn on his forehead. So, kudos to that.

But don't you see your youth and fitness work against the image of delicious pizza? Don't you realize you don't even look like you could make a ketchup sandwich? All those pizza chef stereotypes exist for a reason, "Papa." People who look like you usually can't cook for shit.


Yeah, I know that in a few decades, your metabolism will catch up with you, and you'll start graying and getting a paunch. And the image will finally match the product. Maybe until then you could grow some black sideburns, start playing the accordion and hire a monkey in a fez? Please?

Age already, Skeeter.

Sincerely,
EADJ

High Dick, Low Dick

If there's one thing that Joel will not tolerate, it's lice.

Joel's chimp servant Chad Yarborough had tussled with some farm animals at the Handon Mall's free petting zoo last week and had somehow caught the lice there. It could have been either the goats or the children, quite frankly.

The chimp servant had neglected to bathe afterwards and had gone straight to preparing Joel's dinner, fricasseed dick with pesto. Then Joel had instructed it to do some dusting all around the apartment.

Long story short, the chimp servant had transmitted lice all over Joel's futon, papa san, flip 'n fuck, his gaming chair, his ceiling-mounted wicker hanging chair, and his director's chair with DICKMASTER printed on the back.

The apartment will be fumigated, and Joel will be forced to sleep at the Doubletree. The chimp servant will temporarily sleep under a 405 overpass.

(pictured above, apparently people on the East coast have EXTREMELY long commutes and never have to pee)