My bologna has a second name. It's L-I-S-T-E-R-I-A-M-O-N-O-C-Y-T-O-G-E-N-E-S.
Adrianna starts Grade 1 tomorrow, but I'm still not sure what to put in her lunch bag. Maybe just a sack of peanuts to weed out the weak kids.
There are far more recent Maple Leaf ads, but none so enthusiastic about "inspecting the quality of [their] wieners every hour." I guess there's no dignified way to say that, but did they have to follow it up with the pre-teen couple gobbling phallic symbols? Check out the mom at :21, she knows the director's a pervert and she kind of digs it.
Incidentally, the death toll was 15 when I wrote the comic, though the papers are now saying 11. Perhaps four victims rose from the dead to seek revenge on the CEO of Maple Leaf Foods, but I prefer to imagine a barbershop quartet of resurrected Christs sent to herald Armageddon in straw hats and harmony.
-Graham
