This new program from google is a step in the right direction for anyone who wants to form an immediate reaction plan for Z-Day. Just put in your location, and it will give you the closest gun shops, outdoor gear shops, gas stations, and sever other places you might want to raid on your way out. It even classifies Danger zones where the infection is likely to spread the fastest.

So remember, gear up quick, and get the hell out of the city.

Google’s Map of the Dead

Constantly. Having. Babies.

…I’ve had to be on the lookout for baby-friendly material. I saw this one, and it begged to be shared.

This one tells an epic.

I often wonder what happened to Troy from The Goonies, myself. Probably because he looks like Elton John these days.

Working the graveyard shift in a secluded lakeside mental hospital has exposed me to some of the more deviant human behaviors (and more than a few deviant human fluid exports as well), allowing me to hypothesize as to their causes and effects. Given the recent media explosion over one of these behaviors in particular, I’ve taken it upon myself to explore, and hopefully explain why so many people have fallen into such aberrant conduct. I am speaking of course, of that dark denizen of the fast food community- The McRib.

Let me be perfectly frank- McDonald’s, in my expert opinion, features horrid, chemical-treated, flatulence-inducing, soy-injected dreck that blemishes the noble institution of beastflesh. Don’t believe me? Here- Behold the horror of the McNugget!!!!

And yet, despite McDonald’s obvious offense, people flock to it like flies on… well, McDonald’s food. I attribute the consumption of the majority of the menu to the simple fact that people are either extremely busy, or just fat and lazy. Unfortunately, neither of these cases constitutes deviant behavior. That being said, the McRib is something else. It is often described as addictive, and in an admittedly brilliant marketing ploy, McDonald’s cycles it on and off of the menu in order to avoid fostering a tolerance among its market base. Could it actually be that tasty? Or is it laced with an opiate agonist? My bet was on the latter, but I wanted to understand why otherwise normal, level-headed people would take to a sandwich like a soon-to-be-disappointed crack head would to a baggie of powdered lye. And so, in a perhaps misguided effort to better understand my fellow, although slightly less awesome man, I threw myself upon the sacrificial altar of knowledge, and tried one.

My girlfriend just stared at me in the drive thru, justly assuming I’d lost my mind. At that point, my trepidation over the experiment would tempt me to agree with her. I looked over the sandwich, which annoyingly, was served in a box, rather than a wrapper, which would aid in containing the mess. The smell was nothing special, and the look only betrayed the fact that the patty was made in a press that was meant to resemble actual ribs. I accept that the obvious lack of any actual rib bones is just sort of a running joke between McDonald’s and its patrons, so I ignored the patty’s ridiculous shape, and gut-wrenching makeup of pressed pig bits (don’t try to tell me it’s pork. Don’t you DARE try to tell me it’s pork. These bits have never even seen the parts of a pig that pork comes from), and took a bite.

The bun was generic, the pickles were generic, the onions were slimy, the barbeque sauce was especially bland, and the meat wasn’t solid enough to be chewed, so it just sort of decomposed in my mouth. What it seemed most like, was any other McDonald’s sandwich drenched in lame barbeque sauce. I quit after three bites.

When it comes to food, I’ll try anything once. Up until now. Maybe I’ve learned my lesson. Or maybe I should just listen to my girlfriend when she says I’ve taken a walk off the map of culinary sanity. Either way, I could not for the life of me understand the appeal that this abhorrent mistake holds over people. I realized that I felt sullied after eating it… and that’s when it hit me.

No, not the heartburn, the realization. Having purchased the worst fast food I’d ever tasted, I felt violated and used by McDonald’s. Violated and used. How many people in the world are into that sort of thing?

We’ve all known that girl who keeps voluntarily going back to an abusive or neglectful boyfriend, or that wincing, glandless guy who keeps letting his domineering girlfriend walk all over him (sometimes literally, more on that in a moment). Are these people stupid, or pathetic to allow themselves to be treated this way? Sometimes yes, but there is another factor in play here that could perhaps explain the masochistic behavior exhibited by so many of McDonald’s zombie-like supplicants.

Paraphilia is the term used to describe a type of deviant behavior characterized by a preference for, or obsession with unusual sexual practices. The more popular term is a fetish. Such behaviors include exhibitionism, necrophilia, and of course, sadomasochism. This particular preference, known as BDSM in the vernacular, includes both dominant and submissive participants who fulfill their respective rolls with whips, chains, gags, clothespins, and several other unconventional items I won’t go into. One half of this element, the submissive, gets his or her jollies by being abused and degraded by their dominant partner(s).

Are these the same people who enjoy sitting down in McDonalds to eat a McRib? I don’t know, nor do I care to investigate. But the congruence between the two aberrant behaviors is obvious. Why else would people keep going back to McDonald’s for a scrapple sandwich, if they didn’t enjoy being treated with the fast food equivalent of a ball gag and nipple clamps? This way, they can sit down, take a bite, and in their mind’s frantic, disturbingly ecstatic voice, yell “Yes! Give it to me! You don’t care what it does to my GI tract, waistline, or self esteem, ‘cause I’m a sandwich slut! I’ll take it, you know I will! Give it to me!”

And so after much deliberation, and one very unpleasant field test, we’ve solved the mystery. The blind popularity of the McRib is the result of a gastric paraphilia, presenting in the patron as either a lack of self esteem, or presence of pseudo-self hatred in the form of masochistic mastications. What we’ve discovered, is an actual culinary fetish. The McRib is the golden shower of the world of cuisine. It’s no wonder that the only place you can get it year-round is Germany.

So relax McDonald’s. You won’t be brought to court for intestinal assault. The trials that come out of cases of BDSM going too far never hold up, why should this be any different? You will, however still be sued by morbidly obese people for making them fat. As for the McRib, we all know you didn’t actually slaughter anything to make that sandwich, so I took the liberty of slaughtering it for you. You’re welcome. Oh- and your restaurants smell like a thousand farts.