So we found out that Chick-Fil-A donates their money to fund anti-gay groups looking to ban same sex marriage and we’re boycotting them. It couldn’t have happened at a worse time. Their peach milkshake is back and it’s only available—like life itself—for a limited time. I love that milkshake but I will give it up along with the waffle fries and the chicken sandwich for my brethren in the gay community.
Perhaps Chick-Fil-A should pay less attention to gays wanting to get married and more attention to their cow mascots. They can’t even spell the word “chicken” correctly and they draw some of the letters on their signs backwards. Maybe Chick-Fil-A should forget gay marriage and start donating their money to fund education. Or at the very least, have those cows checked out by a doctor. They may have a learning disability.
To compensate for the boycott, many people are trying to find copycat recipes so they can make their own version of Chick-Fil-A’s famous chicken sandwich but, let’s face it, that never works. I got a copycat recipe for the Cap’n Crunch chicken tenders they serve at Planet Hollywood and it just didn’t taste the same. I even put some of my clothes on mannequins to pretend I was surrounded by movie memorabilia. Slightly soiled tighty whities worn by Tom Cruise in Risky Business. Alas, it didn’t help.
As someone who is a culinary connoisseur (that sounds classier than saying someone who likes to eat), it bums me out when I have to boycott food I enjoy. Why couldn’t it have been something I hate? Why couldn’t it have been the Gap? I loathe the Gap. My girlfriend in college loved their clothes and always forced me to go with her when she would shop there. She always wore the same ensemble but changed it up for the seasons. In the summer, it was a white shirt with a light sweatshirt over it. In the winter, a white shirt with a sweater. A woman who dresses in layers is the bane of a horny young man’s existence. You always lose precious minutes having to remove those extra clothes. Dammit, woman, it’s 95 degrees outside. Would it kill you to wear a tank top every once in a while? To this day, if I even walk by a Gap I go into anaphylactic shock.
Since I’m willing to give up Chick-Fil-A, I hope if any institution popular with the gay community discriminates against the heterosexuals that they will return the favor. Should Disney ever decide straighties can’t ride Space Mountain, my gay friends damn well better never set foot in their theme parks again. Or if Lady Gaga refuses to hire a butcher to design her next meat dress who wasn’t born that way then I better see her record sales plummet. After all, fair is fair.
Though I do have to warn the gay community if In-N-Out Burger should ever do anything that offends them, all bets are off. I couldn’t boycott In-N-Out if they were water boarding kittens. To paraphrase the immortal line from Braveheart: They may take my life but they will never take my Double-Double.