LibriumArcana.Games

Before I post this... I completely thought this was satire, or The Onion-inspired, or something - but no. No, this is real. Count to yourself how many times you facepalm while reading this.

RawStory wrote:An Oklahoma lawmaker is convinced that some food coming into his state contains portions of human fetuses.

According to the KGMG talk radio, state Sen. Ralph Shortey (R) has filed a bill that bans foods or products using aborted human fetuses.

“There is a potential that there are companies that are using aborted human babies in their research and development of basically enhancing flavor for artificial flavors,” he said.

Shortey said the decision to file was based on his own research. However, he didn’t provide any examples of food companies engaging in the practice.

“I don’t know if it is happening in Oklahoma,” Shortey said. “It may be, it may not be. What I am saying is that if it does happen then we are not going to allow it to manufacture here.”

Food makers have denied any of Shortey’s claims, with some viewing his bill as a backdoor way of banning stem cell research. Shortey, who supports banning stem cell research in the state, said his bill is not about that.

Frigid, I'm sorry - this was not meant to bash your home state. But damn, dude - I always thought "THYE EAT BABIES" was a joke meme until now. Oklahoma, I have to give you props for proving me incorrect in my assumption.

Oh, it's a lot more common than most people think.

One late evening as I was wandering about the Castro district in San Francisco I happened upon a little hole-in-the-wall that the locals had spoken quite positively about. The decoration was almost nonexistent, though the clientele was certainly chic enough for a more established, upscale restaurant. A diminutive elderly man, not a year younger than 80 and not an inch taller than 4 feet helped me (slowly) to a small table in the corner which sat next to an artificial tree and a tattered poster promoting the movie "Broken Arrow."

After a few minutes I began to notice this eatery's strange gimmick: Men in outfits that weren't quite surgical scrubs but weren't quite butcher's aprons made their way gracefully between the patrons, with covered silver trays that glistened under the fluorescent lighting. As my table was set somewhat far away from my neighbors, and as they had their backs to me, I was unable to see what repast this eatery was serving. The smell was intoxicating, a tantalizing mixture of what seemed to be cajun spices mixed with more mellow and sweeter notes. Finally, after stewing in this aroma for what seemed to be half a day a waiter hustled to my table and curtly thrust a menu into my hands.

I opened the folding menu, to see only a single item: Meat, 12oz, 18oz, 24oz. Upon the back was a list of beverages, but also there was only a single item: Mr. Pibb Zero. I asked the waiter what exactly the establishment defined as "meat," and while still holding his nose high in the air he announced in broken english "long veal." Feeling in the mood to take a risk, I agreed to a 24-ounce serving of this mysterious entree and after a long pause glumly added "and a pitcher of Mr. Pibb Zero."

Finally, after another nearly-intolerable delay, the moment had come. The butcher emerged from the backroom with that signature covered silver tray, and set it gently upon my table. With a flourish, he lifted the cover and instantly I became aware that two small, beady, pre-intelligent eyes were staring right into mine. "Long veal" was clearly the predecessor of what certain Pacific Islanders called "long pig." I rushed out the door with an almost feral speed, like I was running from the scene of a massacre, shocked diners gasping in horror at this transgression of the social rules of blue-state cuisine. Not heeding the tale of Abraham I glanced backwards at the table as I ran - While thankfully being spared the fate of transformation into a pillar of salt, I could have sworn I saw the half-formed human on the table give a thumbs-up with his tiny, needle-like left hand.

All that night I cried in the shower, stopping only to curse the fact that they had forgotten my Mr. Pibb Zero, the soft drink of choice for health-conscious men who refuse to drink "diet" but instead want to reaffirm their Spartan masculinity.

According to Google Maps the entire block has since been torn down to make space for a square-mile large gay nightclub, an 80-story militaristic phallic beacon for the world's most flamboyant social warriors and their "agenda." Good riddance, I say.

that's my response to the entire situation...

Derek... you are twisted and awesome...

Ralph Shortey...

Well so much for my planned trip to Oklahoma... Whole thing is ruined now if I can't nom on some babies.

Charon wrote:Well so much for my planned trip to Oklahoma... Whole thing is ruined now if I can't nom on some babies.

Yeah, no kidding. That's the only reason I'd ever voluntarily go to Oklahoma.