The Fourth Judge Laments the State of Health Care in America

When I was a kid my family used to go to a restaurant called The Ground Round. The gimmick was that your parents would pay a penny for every pound you weighed. Adult meals were “full price,” but your hot dog and popcorn (popcorn was sort of The Ground Round’s “thing,” weirdly) would only set you back 85 cents.

The host, who was responsible for procuring this information, wasn’t just going to take your word for it. You had to get on a scale while everyone looked on, revealing your scarlet number to friends, family, and strangers.

I wasn’t a particularly chubby kid, but I hated getting on that scale. It became a competition with all the other little jerks in the room, and if you were five pounds heavier than Timmy Rottencrotch it was like finding out someone you hated grew armpit hair before you did (a truly devastating revelation). I can only imagine what that experience must have been like for fat kids. I have no doubt that the fear of a public Ground Round shaming compelled many children to live healthier lifestyles than they would have otherwise.[[MORE]]

The Ground Round isn’t nearly as ubiquitous as it used to be and what few franchises remain have long since abandoned the Pay What You Weigh promotion. This is a disaster. Studies have linked the rise in childhood obesity in America directly to the decline of The Ground Round and its shame-based marketing schemes. Think of the millions of American children who have suffered as a result of losing this invaluable source of public ridicule. This is one of the great public health disasters of our time, right up there with your butt crack getting itchy when you don’t wipe well, yet NO ONE IS TALKING ABOUT IT!

I hope this piece sparks a dialog that results in the return of the Pay What You Weigh promotion and the re-opening of Ground Round franchises across this once great nation of ours. Do your part and reblog IF YOU FEEEEEEL MEEEEE!

Speaking of eating right, the other night I had a debate with myself over whether or not to throw frozen peas into the ramen I was making. I feel embarrassed by this. Once you think about adding frozen peas to ramen, why is it even up for debate?

“I don’t know. If I want peas I’m going to have to open the freezer door and pour some into the pot then stir them around and shit. Seems like a lot of work. And what about the flavor profile? Will these peas ruin the delicate balance of dime store noodles and salt water I’ve perfected over the years?”

Just eat your fucking vegetables you god damn baby. Do something right in your life for once.

Continuing the food theme, Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives is the only thing they show on Food Network anymore. Don’t believe me? Turn on Food Network right now. If the next 4 hours isn’t filled with Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives reruns I’ll eat Greek yogurt out of the concavity in my chest (it’s a condition known as pectus excavatum) and post the video. If the next 4 hours is filled with Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives reruns I get to lick your girlfriend’s butthole.

Anyway, fuck that show. The food looks gross and I heard Guy Fieri hates gay people. I don’t know if that’s true, but I’m working under the assumption that it is.

Also, the whole thing is wildly illogical. Food is necessary for life and it’s insanely fun to make and consume. All of humanity, therefore, has a vested interest in a channel devoted exclusively to food. And yet, somehow, on just such a channel, this fucking SHIT HORN takes up 80% of the programming. Look at this guy:

It’s completely outrageous. How did we get here as a people? We should all be forced to pull our rectums out with our fists. We deserve it for letting this happen.

I was doing dishes yesterday when I realized I’d washed about 20 knives in a row, which made me realize I’ve been eating a ton of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches recently, which made me realize that you can get a pretty good grip on my mental health by looking in my utensil drawer.

Peanut butter and jelly is a timeless classic, so I feel pretty shitty about associating it with bad times, but it’s a fact that I eat far more peanut butter and jelly when I’m down in the dumps than I do when I’m functioning at my emotional peak. It’s one of the easiest reasonably filling meals to make, so when I don’t have the energy to LOVE MYSELF, I often turn to pb&j. I’m sorry to drag you down like this, buddy, but that’s just the way things are.

I guess the lesson here is that if you come to my place and see that I don’t have any clean knives in my silverware drawer be extra nice to me. You should be nice to me anyway because I’ve been gracious enough to host you, but yeah. Maybe now you should tell me how good my singing voice is or something.

Also, anyone who doesn’t use chunky peanut butter is cancer.

I hate it when someone comes back to the office to say hello after they no longer work here. It doesn’t matter if they’ve been fired or if they’ve quit, it’s just awkward. It’s always someone who you nodded and smiled at but weren’t friends with in any real sense of the word, so the “what are you up to now?” conversation is especially painful.

This is probably because anyone you’d actually be friends with wouldn’t come back to the office. What kind of animal does this? You would never catch me coming back to an office I’d previously worked at. What’s the upside? Only a truly demented FREAK SHOW would even consider such a thing.

If you have any friends from an old job you want to see you should see them like any other friends in your life: OUTSIDE OF THE OFFICE. Go to a bar, you rotten horns of shit. Why are you inflicting your wackness on us? We’re just trying to survive another day of looking at chimps eating poop online while we ignore our responsibilities and here you come waltzing into our lives with nary a care in the world, bringing horrible small talk obligations with you.

Get bent, office visitor. I hate you.

My friend asked me if I’d rather have two penises or no penises. I didn’t hesitate to say I’d rather have two. Would you rather have orgasms or not have orgasms? It’s a simple equation. If I’m a two penis’d freak at least I could pleasure myself. If I don’t have a penis nobody’s jerking me off or putting me in a chastity belt/cage while they go to work at the lumber yard all day (there’s nothing wrong with a strong woman).

And hey, if both penises function normally and you don’t have some sort of freakishly small, parasitic penis situation, you might even find a chick who’s into that sort of thing. Or maybe if you have two micro penises they could roughly approximate a slightly less than average normal penis. I think the only problem would be if you had two huge cocks, like the kind of cock that poses a problem on its own, but now there’s two of them. You’re gonna have trouble finding someone who knows what to do with your freakishly large double cock.

If you had a double cock, do you think you could have sex with one of them and pee with the other? I think if I had a double cock I’d have sex with one and just kind of fool around with the other. Maybe slap my date on the butt with it playfully during doggie style. I bet we’d both laugh at that.

Someone just told me that Freddie Mercury had four extra teef. Do you think when he gave bee-jays it was harder for him to keep his teef off the recipient’s peen than it would’ve been if he didn’t have four extra teef? Do you think Freddie gave bee-jays or do you think he was more of a “top” in blowjob situations? Does the top/bottom dichotomy in the gay community carry over into oral sex?

I’m watching ESPN on mute while I listen to music because I can’t write without at least 400 potential distractions. There’s some sort of cheerleading/dance competition and I keep getting funny musical/visual juxtapositions with my itunes playlist.

For instance, I just watched a bunch of girls do a routine to what I’m assuming was the 69 Boys classic “Tootsee Roll” while “Good Night” by the Beatles played in the background.

Anyway, it made me chuckle. Fuck you.

I think I’m going to ask my boss if he wants to have a sleepover party just to see what his reaction is. Could you fire someone for proposing that? What if you said it completely straight, without any winking or implied sexual contact?

BOSS: So what are your plans this weekend?

ME: Oh I was wondering if you wanted to have a sleepover. I’ve got Mario Party and I think Coraline just got here on Netflix. We can pick up some Junior Mints or Runts or whatever. Do you like soda?

So I saw this picture the other day:

My favorite part is how Abe has time to get all upset and shit before the bullet explodes through the front of his face.

*****
I just finished a jar of peanut butter and a jar of jelly at the same time for the first time in my life. This seems significant.