Author Archives: Bill

Herman Cain is the Victim of Discrimination.

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MSNBC is reporting that a a fourth woman is going to come forward today to accuse Republican presidential candidate Herman Cain of sexual harrassment. Fox News reported a similar story, stating “Gloria Allred, a well known Democratic donor who has been accused of pretty obvious self promotion in the past is representing the fourth accuser in a political smear against Cain.”



While some people would say that the Fox News story was presented in an obvious attempt to discredit he accusations before they were even made by use of editorializing and ad hominem attacks, I have to agree with Fox on this one. It’s pretty obvious that people are ganging up on Cain and discriminating him simply because he’s a pervert.

 

Photo by Gage Skidmore

Pervert American

 

Herman Cain is a pervert and even though it’s 2011 and years past the civil rights movement, it’s still not easy being a pervert in America.  If you think perverts are treated fairly in this country here’s some statistics that might shock you.



*100% of the rapists in prison in America are perverts.
*Perverts are 100% more likely to be arrested for soliciting a prostitute than non-perverts.
*Once outed as a pervert, it takes the average character actor 15 years before anybody will let him work as Pee Wee Herman again.


In spite of the poor treatments of perverts in this country, Herman Cain has fought his way to the top. Even as people yelled hurtful, anti-pervert slurs like “don’t touch me there!” and “no I do not want to see your penis!”, he plugged away and became the CEO of a large company, radio host, author and chair of the Federal Reserve. People don’t want to see his accomplishments, though. They only seem to care about superficial, skin deep issues like his constant desire to have sex with a bunch of women who are not his wife.


Herman Cain won’t let this stop him, though. He cuts through all that crap and sticks to the issues. Just last week, Cain chewed out an insensitive, prejudiced reporter for even asking about his perversion, asking his chief of staff to “Please send him the Journalistic Code of Ethics”. As we all know, the Journalistic Code of Ethics has a lengthy section on not asking political candidates about perversion.


Throughout all the scrutiny, Cain endures. Perhaps come 2012, we could put aside our differences and vote for our first openly perverted (Clinton doesn’t count. He didn’t come out until in office) president.


Herman Cain. Breaking boundaries both historical and personal.

Craigslist Job Posting Friday!

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After responding to the sex blogger ad from craigslist I thought I’d make it a weekly thing to seek out and respond to craigslist creative job postings because


1. It’s really fun.
2. Craigslist has no shortage of awful “creative” job postings.


This week’s job posting is found in the “TV/Film/Video/Radio” section.


Casting: People With Animalistic Behaviors

Nothing is too bizarre. Some stories we have explored are: a man who altered himself to look like a lizard, a man living in a dog house, a woman who eats cat food.

Casting PEOPLE WITH EXTREME ANIMAL BEHAVIORS for a new documentary-style cable television series.

If you have an obsession with animals that someone in your life finds bizarre, we’d like to tell your story.

Do you know someone who Looks like animal? Lives like an animal? Acts like an animal?

We are interested in ANY animal obsession or behavior

Contact us at myprimalbehavior@gmail.com or call us toll free 1-855-animal-5.

www.myprimalbehavior.com


Here’s the email I sent to them.


I saw your ad asking for people who display “animalistic behaviors” and I think I may be doing just that. I think I’m becoming a cat. Let me explain.

I think this has been slowly building up for years but I’ve just put the pieces together recently. I’ve always been a cat lover but haven’t been able to keep any recently because I’ve developed an allergy in adulthood. Even though I don’t own cats, I have a bunch of cat toys. I buy new laser pointers almost every week and have an extensive collection of stuffed mice on strings. I even have a “stash” of catnip that I huff when nobody’s around. I know it doesn’t do anything physically but it calms me.

I’ve kept these things from my family but some behaviors are a little harder to hide. I’ve always enjoyed when my wife scratches behind my ear and anytime I’m laying down and she runs her hand down my back I involuntarily thrust my butt up in the air. This stuff has been easily explained away as weird physical ticks and even I didn’t think this was all “cat like”. Maybe I was just in denial but I couldn’t deny what happened last month.

My wife was out of town for the weekend and I was home all alone. I started to feel isolated, trapped. I felt she abandoned me and my resentment grew so much that I pooped on her pillow. I felt ashamed about what I did but I didn’t clean it up. When she got home she was shocked and all I could say was “Maybe now you’ll think twice before leaving me!”

I felt bad about what I did, though so I killed a bird with a BB gun and gave it to her as a gift.

My wife, having figured out what has been going on all these years (I even showed her my secret catnip stash), has been very supportive of my condition. She runs the can opener when dinner is ready and if I have my feet up on the coffee table she’ll spray me with a water bottle.

Let me know my story would be a good fit for your show!



I’ll keep you updated if there’s any replies. If you see any shitty job postings you’d like me to apply for, please leave a comment or email the link to bill@youngnotions.com !

And God so Loved the World He Wanted Me to Yell at You

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Hey, Youngamaniacs! I’m busy writing a sketch I thought of in the shower this morning for tonight’s Men With Hats show at The Comedy Corner Underground so here’s a classic from the Disney Vaults! Enjoy!


I was walking in downtown Minneapolis with Ben Weil last night and there was a man on the Corner of Hennepin and 7th holding a bible over his head and screaming bible verses at the top of his lungs.  He wasn’t handing out pamphlets.  He wasn’t talking to anyone in particular.  He was just shouting things that were in the book he was waving around (John 3 to be exact.  Way to ruin the ending for us, Spoiley McSpoilerson!)


This is not the first time I’ve seen this.  I’ve seen the whole man-waving-around-a-bible-and-shouting-at-nobody-in-particular in different cities all over and it’s always confused me for 2 reasons.


1.  Why carry the bible around?  You don’t have it open.  You’ve obviously memorized the verses you’re screaming.  It just seems like unnecessary weight.  Are you worried people might think you’re just making it up as you go along?
“AND GOD SO LOVED THE WORLD THAT HE GAVE THEM HIS ONLY BEGOTTEN SON!”
“Bullshit!”
“SIR, I AM TELLING THE TRUTH AND IT IS ALL HERE IN THIS LEATHERBOUND COLLECTION I HOLD ABOVE MY HEAD!”
“Let me see that for a second!”
“BE MY GUEST, SIR!  TO BE HONEST MY ARM WAS STARTING TO GIVE OUT!”
“Okay… Page 372… Man named Nicodemus… Must be born again… Well I’ll be.  So you were telling the truth.  Well, sir.  I apologize for doubting you.”
“THAT’S QUITE ALRIGHT, SIR!  TO BE HONEST, PEOPLE JUST THOUGHT I WAS SOME CRAZY PERSON UNTIL I STARTED CARRYING THAT AROUND.”
(fade to black as the two men talk about the nature of spirituality.  End scene.)


2.  How many people are you converting with this approach?  I thought the Jehova’s Witnesses had a hard time with their methods but the Curch of the Screaming Street Corner Weirdo must have a lot of empty pews come Sunday.
“AND GOD SO LOVED THE WORLD HE GAVE THEM HIS-”
“Excuse me.  Sir?”
“ONLY BEGOTTEN SON SO THAT-”
“Excuse me, Sir?  Hey, you with the flushed complexion and the dribble of spit hanging from your bottom lip?”
“OH, SORRY I DIDN’T NOTICE YOU.  I WAS KIND OF IN ‘THE ZONE’.”
“Quite alright.  Since you were screaming so loud that I can only assume that puddle of coughed up blood by your feet is your own, I couldn’t help but overhear you.  I must say, I would like to know more.  Could I possibly… join your church?”
“YOU CERTAINLY MAY, SIR!”
“Thank you!  When is your next mass?”
“YOU’RE ATTENDING IT RIGHT NOW!  GRAB A BIBLE AND START WAVING!”
(camera pans out as man hands bibles to his eager wife and children.  End scene.)

Amish on Amish Violence

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Myron Miller was lying in his bed next to his wife after a long day of chores and prayer when he heard a knock on the door. He got up and opened it to see three men standing before him. The let themselves in and said “Sam Mullet sent us here, and we’re here on religious business”. They wresled Myron down and took battery powered clippers to his beard, a symbol of his faith. When they left his beard was misshapen and five inches shorter.

Such cruel and sensless beard attacks are becoming more and more common in the Amish communities in Ohio as a new power player in the Amish world is climbing his way to the top. Meet Sam Mullet.

The Don.

Sam Mullet is the head of the “Bergholz Clan” , a splinter group of radical Amish that are responsible for three beard cuttings and two hair cuttings (and a possible nail clipping!).  While Mullet has claimed he did not order the attacks he said he did nothing to stop them.

His influence over the horse and buggy lot has grown so big that former church members and the local sheriff is worried that Mullet is running a cult

Sheriff Abdalla has heard some pretty strange stories coming from the Mullet compound. One came from a man who said Mullet put him in a chicken coop for 15 days in the dead of winter over a religious disagreement. The victim would not press charges.

Abdalla has gone so far to say “”If I were to get a call right now telling me, ‘Sheriff, they’re all dead in the community out there,’ it wouldn’t surprise me,” he said.” which wasn’t at all a leap in logic.

How did this happen? We can’t blame television or music. If anything, Sam Mullet is living proof that people can be giant assholes without the corruption of modern media but do we really need to worry about a suicide cult? I think the non violent thing extends to harming themselves and they can’t drink kool aid unless they harvest it themselves and kool aid bushes don’t grow in northern climates.

Whatever happens, one thing we’ve learned is that a mugshot of three amish men is pretty hilarious.

Strait outta Bergholz! Crazy motherfucker named Jebidiah!

How to Make a Child Cry

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In yesterday’s blog I mentioned the various tortures I endured in my three days of working at Spookyworld. One of which was being punched in the balls by a ten year old kid. I wanted to put my tale of sweet revenge into the post but it ended up being a little too long so I thought I’d save the story for today. Here you go!


After an hour of working in the clown maze (read yesterday’s post to catch up) I was getting pretty tired of customers touching me. It was mostly pretty benign with the exception of a shin kick from a drunk chick. I stood motionless waiting for the next group to walk by so I could do my thing and hope to not get touched when a man and his son (probably about 10 years old) walked in. I waited for them to get right in front of me and I jumped down off my pedestal and yelled at them. The kid jumped back, laughed and punched me square in the nuts. I immediately dropped down to my knees and gasped. The dad grabbed his son by the hand and said “alright, let’s keep going.”


Fucking what? This guy’s kid punched a stranger in the balls and no apology? How much did he think we were making because 6-fucking-dollars an hour is not enough for this kind of treatment. I struggled to my feet and decided this little shit needed to be taught some respect.


I didn’t touch him. I couldn’t. The biggest thing that was drilled in our heads by management is that we cannot lay our hands on the customers and now I knew it was emphasized so much because we’d want to. So I didn’t touch him, I followed him.


The museum was at the very beginning of the maze so that left me with ten minutes of intense eye contact and breathing behind his ear. The only time I left his side during the entire maze was to disappear behind him in a hidden door backstage to reappear in front of him. I was inescapable. Everywhere but always by his side, staring right at him. At first he laughed and punched my big rubber nose. I didn’t break eye contact. His laughter grew quieter and quieter as the maze went on and on and I stayed right beside him, staring at him. His dad chuckled and said “looks like you made a new friend”. Wrong, pops. He just made his worst fucking enemy.


They walked out of the maze and I walked out with them, my face mere inches away from the now terrified face of that little cock puncher. There was no laughter now. Only the tugging of his dad’s pants leg and a whimpering plea of wanting to go home. For a minute the dad stopped to watch an animatronic skeleton sing “Living La Vida Loca” while I just loomed over his child. The dad noticed I was still there, laughed, tapped me on the shoulder and said “shouldn’t you get back to work?”


I stood back up, looked at him silently and stooped back down to stare at the kid.


The kid was crying at this point. Tears streamed down his face as he blubbered “I wanna go home I wanna go home dad!” The dad sighed and started toward the parking lot with the kid. I followed. The dad tried to reassure the kid that this was all fake and I was just a guy in a costume but the kid started yelling “I punched him and now he’s gonna get me! He’s gonna get me!” I stopped at the beginning of the parking lot but still stared at the kid as he clung to his dad screaming “NOOOOO!” over and over again at the top of his lungs.


In the three days that I worked Spookyworld this was the only time that I felt a sense of pride about my job. I accomplished something that night. That guy paid $15 to have his kid scared and now that kid’s going to have an irrational fear of clowns his entire life. He may never step in a haunted house ever again because of what I did. I hope that kid had to go to therapy because of me.


I turned away from the parking lot only when the tail lights of their car were no longer visible. About a dozen people were staring right at me. I didn’t even think about it at the time but if one of the actors is terrorizing a shrieking child all the way to the parking lot, there may be a few spectators. I took off my mask, bowed at the crowd and walked back into the maze. I had another hour of humiliation scheduled for the night but I fucking owned that moment.

Tales From the Cryptically Embarrassing Acting Resume

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Happy Hollow-scream, boys and Ghouls! Since to-fright is a time in which all things ghastly are celebrated, I thought I’d share a little horror story of my own. It’s a tale of gravely low pay, ghoulish customers and the grisly death of my dignity. Gather around, children and let me tell you the chilling tale of…


THE TIME I WORKED AT A HAUNTED HOUSE.



It all started in the acting class of my first and only semester of community college. The teacher suggested we peruse the want ads in the newspaper (this was 2001, people. Only nerds knew about craigslist then) for work in haunted houses. She cited it as “paid acting experience”. I saw an ad for Spookyworld (now defunct) in Shakopee, MN. After a quick phone interview consisting of “have you ever worked in a haunted house before” and “why do you want to work here” answered by “no” and “my acting teacher said it’s be good experience” (pretty sure I heard some laughter stifled on the other end of the line) I was told that pay was $6 an hour for a four hour night and to come on out to orientation on Monday.


I showed up to orientation with a couple dozen other “actors”. The talent manager showed us the three main attractions. A standard haunted house, a 3-D “clown maze” (the maze was brightly lit and painted red and blue. People would come in wearing those 3-D paper glasses and the three dimensional space would jump out at them… in 3-D!) and a haunted hayride. We were told that we would be assigned to a different attraction every night to keep things fun and under no circumstances were we to touch a customer no matter what they did. I lasted three nights.


NIGHT ONE:
I started out in the standard haunted house. I showed up wearing all black as requested and they threw a monster mask and some gloves on me. After popping my head out of collapsable wall panels and narrowly avoiding punches to the face (not that I was quick, the guys who took swings were just usually drunk off their asses) for a few hours a supervisor put me in the “rattle cage”. A dark room with a cage up against one of the walls so you have to walk around it to get to the exit. I was inside the cage waiting for people to walk up to the front so I could run at it and rattle the loose bars. Every two minutes I would have to run up to the cage and shake it with all my might. By 9 PM I was just laying on the floor and weakly kicking at the cage. One guy spit on me.


NIGHT TWO:
Still sore as hell from the rattle cage workout, I was thrown into the 3-D clown maze for night two. My specific role was as a statue in the “clown museum”. I was put in a super baggy clown outfit and placed in a hallway with three clown statues and an empty space. My job was to stand perfectly still in a menacing pose as people walked in. Once they got up to me I’d move and freak them out. I don’t know if it was the clown outfit or the fact that I was the only “actor” in the room but customers just manhandled me like crazy. I was shoved, slapped, shin kicked and one girl made out with me (clown fetish?). I fucking snapped, though when some kid punched me in the balls (come back tomorrow for the full story on my sweet, sweet revenge).


NIGHT THREE:
Beaten and bruised, I was looking forward to working the haunted hayride. The customers only came by every five minutes and I’d jump out from behind a bail of hay far from their reach. As I walked up to the supervisor he handed me a harness and told me I’d be working the barn that night as the flying ghost.

This actually sounded kind of cool. About halfway through the hayride the tractor goes through a big barn open on both sides. The tractor would stop for a minute inside the barn and I’d jump out and fly over them and scream. Pretty sweet. Kind of tricky, though as the “flight” was made possible by me pushing off of the catwalk and zipping to the other side of the bar hanging from a rope hooked up to a wheel on a track. The wheel would “catch” on the other side and swing me up a bit so my momentum would wheel me back. I didn’t want to push off too hard or I’d fly past the customers too quickly. If I pushed off too slow, there wouldn’t be enough momentum to carry me back to the catwalk and I’d just hang in the middle of the barn like a haunted piñata.

So there I am hanging in the middle of the barn like a haunted piñata over 20 laughing customers.  One of them stole one of my shoe right before the tractor started up again.  After a guy dressed up as a werewolf pushed me back to the catwalk with a rake I took off my harness and hopped back to the entrance.


The next week I told the acting class about my experience (I was the only one in the class who worked a haunted house).  Afterwards I asked the teacher if I’d still be eligible for part of the extra credit even though I quit.  That’s when she told me she never said anything about extra credit.

Creepy Republican Sex Scandal #5,372,092: Linda Wall

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I’ve mentioned in the past that any anti gay republican is without a doubt a huge closet homo but there’s been a story circulating recently about how Republican Virginia House of Delegates candidate Linda Wall admitted tohaving a lesbian affair with a minor

I use the term “lesbian affair” simply because it was in the title of the huffpo article linked. The proper term should be “holy shit this lady diddled a kid why isn’t she in jail for fuck’s sake?”

The “lesbian affair” happened when she was a middle school gym teacher which is weird because most female gym teachers are the paragon of heterosexuality. The affairee (affaired? person whom which the affair was also with?) was a student. So she had a “lesbian affair” with a middle school student.

In case you weren’t aware. Middle school is grade 6-8. Ages 11-14. Just so we’re all up on terminology, when you have sex with somebody who is 11-14 years old that’s not a “lesbian affair”, it’s a “child molestation”.

The question here is why is a child molester getting treated with the kid gloves (pun totally unintended)? My best guess is that when most guys think hear the words “lesbian affair” and thoughts drift to sexy lesbian times. Silk sheets, two women exploring each other… I’m getting off topic.

The point is that “lesbian affair” is a word trigger in the minds of men and that trigger is on the gun of an erection. In case any guys were wondering, this is Linda Wall.

Now that we got that out of the way, while Wall admits to the lesbian affair, stating that she “was” homosexual and smoked a lot of pot in the ’70s (I must’ve missed that scene in Reefer Madness), she’s “converted to Christianity, changed her sexual orientation and stopped using drugs”. She now describes herself as ex-gay.

First off, as much as Marcus Bachmann would love you to believe, you can’t shrug off the gay. Also, she’s not gay, she’s a criminal. Even if she was hot when it happened.

She probably wasn’t though. I’m just saying, gym teacher. No offense, Ms. Ganzhorn (my 7th grade gym teacher).

Picking Fruit is Not a Goddamn Skill.

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Alabama the toughest immmigration laws in the country recently, basically legalizing racial profiling to stem the tide of the dreaded Mexican. Illegal immigrants, in response to the new law, are fleeing Alabama at an alarming rate.

So… it worked? I guess it’s hard to argue with results. Congratulations, Alabama. You’ve successfully rid your state of illegals through the threat of witch hunt and it worked! Alabama can now get all those jobs the illegals stole to the hardworking legal citizens who deserve them.

There’s just one problem. According to foxnews.com, legal citizens suck at picking fruit and quit after a day.


From the article, “Potato farmer Kevin Smith told The Associated Press that the Americans he hired show up late, work slower and are ready to call it quits after a day on the job or sooner.”


I was always told by these republican assholes that illegals were lazy and sucking off the government teat. I don’t get it. at 9.8% unemployment, you think people would be chomping at the bit for all these jobs that opened up after the Flight of the Mexicans. There’s got to be a better explanation.


Well, also from the article, “Tom Surtees, director of the state Department of Industrial Relations, which is operating the employment program, told FoxNews.com that he has never picked tomatoes before and doubts he could do it as well as someone with 20 years experience.
‘I think it’s an acquired skill, one you get by repetition,’ he said. ‘Can someone go out in one day and match the skills or efficiency of someone doing it for years? That would be a unique individual.'”


Wait a second here. Surgery is a skill you learn over 20 years. Playing the goddamn Oboe is a skill you learn over 20 years. Yanking a fucking tomato off a vine isn’t a “skill” you learn over 20 fucking years.


While the article certainly alludes to it with phrases like “ultimately, these are not desirable jobs. The work is difficult” they never flat out admit that these are shit jobs with shit pay (just to show how shit the pay is, it’s not mentioned once in the article). This immigration law was passed mainly on the idea that in this rough economy, jobs would open up for legal citizens if we chased the illegals out with torches and pitchforks. Now the jobs are open and nobody will take them because they suck.


Well, getting rid of the mexicans didn’t work. Maybe they should try getting rid of the gays or muslims. Better yet, how about they get rid of the conservative racist jackasses who passed this law?

Sexy Sex Blog: Where Sexy People Talk Sexily About Sex

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I was searching through the craigslist want ads searching for that coveted “Videogame Tester / Candy Taster” job that I always seem to just miss when I saw an ad that said “Top Bloggers / Writers Needed”.


Well, I’m a blogger / writer. Whether or not I’m top is a matter of opinion and my opinion says yes so let’s read on.


“Currently looking to add two quality bloggers/writers to our already growing staff! ConverSextion is a tasteful site based out of Chicago for adults to openly talk about dating, sex, and romance. All applicants must provide at least one sample of their work. For more information or to apply please visit www.ConverSextion.com. Pay is per story.

Compensation: $15-$25
Principals only. Recruiters, please don’t contact this job poster.
Please, no phone calls about this job!
Please do not contact job poster about other services, products or commercial interests.”


Well now we have a problem. I think everybody knows I’m a virgin. I’m not ashamed of it. Jena said that we should wait until our 10th anniversary to have sex so it will be special and I agree. I just need to make up a sexy story. Shouldn’t be too hard. Let’s do this. I shall write the story in italics because everybody knows it’s the sexiest typeface.


I’ll never forget that time I had sex with this girl. She was so sexy. I saw her at this hip singles bar I hang out at with my friends. There’s always a ton of girls there who love to have sex. She looked at me with her eyes in a sexy way. The kind of way that says “we should totally have sex. Not right now, though because we’re in public and that would be weird. We should hang out for a little, have a conversation and then leave and have sex at your place or my place. My place is kind of messy, though, and I have a cat so if you’re allergic and don’t have any Claritin on you we should probably have sex at your place. However, if you’re not allergic and don’t mind some laundry on the floor we should go to my place because I only live like a block from here and have a really comfortable bed. It was on sale. Normally you’d pay $500 for a mattress like this but I got the mattress and box frame for $300. They even delivered it for free.”



I’d seen that look a million times.



I walked up to her and offered to buy her a drink. She accepted and I asked the bartender for a Sex on the Beach and then gave her a look to convey that although the drink on it’s own is tasty, I ordered it to express sexual intentions. The bartender brought her the drink and I paid for it, tipping generously to show that I have a lot of disposable income and because he brought it pretty fast even though there were a lot of people ordering drinks.


We talked about various sexy things. Edible panties, flavored lubricants and fuzzy handcuffs. After a few minutes of sexy conversation with the bartender I thanked him for his time but suggested he get back to serving other people. I then turned my attention to the girl and talked with her for a while. She thanked me for the drink and said that most guys don’t usually do that sort of thing for girls. I told her that I wasn’t like most guys and then suggested we head someplace a little more private, like a bedroom.



We had so much sex that night. It lasted for hours. Just when I thought “there’s no way we could have any more sex” we had a bunch more sex. Our bodies mashed together nakidly and we sexed each other until we were completely unable to have any more sex.



The next morning we had some sex and then parted ways. She had her life to live and I had mine. She asked if she’d ever see me again and I told her that maybe she would. She then asked that if she saw me, could we have sex?



I looked into her sexy eyes and said “totally”.

Wish me luck in my new career as a sex story blogger!

Dairy Free Day 6

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It’s been almost a week with no milk and cheese in the house. One can certainly learn a lot about food by making a radical change to their diet. Here’s a few things I’ve learned.


1. As far as milk substitutes go, almond milk is the best. I bought soy, rice and almond milk for the family to taste test because we need a milky thing for cooking and pouring over cereal. Almond milk rules. I don’t even know why they make rice and soy milk. They taste like shit water and deserve the worst of punishments for what they did to my mouth. Fuck you, soy and rice milk.


2. We’ve started taking probiotic pills and holy shit do they give you gas. These last few days have been nothing but a constant stream of burps and farts coming from everybody involved. It’s like an Adam Sandler movie but without all the blatant product placement.


FART FART EAT POPEYE'S AND SHOP AT K-MART FART FART

 


3.  When naming milk substitutes, dignity is thrown right out the window.  We got a vegan mac and cheese called “Mac and Chreese” (Chreese, like “trees” because it’s made from plants HAHAAAAAA) and I bought a sour cream substitute from Tofutti (yes, just like the Mr. Show sketch)

[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e5i6BHBuqxE&w=420&h=315]

called Sour Supreme. On the package it says “BETTER than sour cream!”. The worst part about it is when I saw it at the store I thought it might be. Almond milk is delicious, why wouldn’t this be as well? It says it’s better than sour cream right on the package! Imagine my disappointment when I actually tasted the stuff.


It wasn’t horrible but it was no sour cream. Why would you lie to me like that, Tofutti? Are you trying to convince yourself that it’s better? Let’s face it. Nobody’s buying this shit because they want to, they’re buying it because their body or religion or whatever told them they can’t have dairy. While I get that you don’t want to name your product “Not as Good as Sour Cream but Hey, it Doesn’t Taste Like Shit so Cut Us Some Slack Here Because You Can Only Do so Much With a Goddamn Soybean!” don’t lie and say it’s better. You’re not fooling me and you’re not fooling yourself.


It’s not better than sour cream. Damn you, Tofutti, you went and broke my heart.