I just ate something called an EPIC health bar. I havent been this angry since 9-11.
Let me read to you the package:
"EPIC foods are inspired by the simple yet highly powerful diets of our ancestors. The same diets that have driven human innovation, inspired creativity, and fueled over 100,000 years of brilliant evolution. We specialize in creating conveniently packaged animal-based protein snacks that taste EPIC. Finally, a bar as intended by Mother Nature. Be EPIC, eat EPIC."
The promises of politicians to better, not worsen, the world are more sanctified as lies and preposterous nonsense than the atrocity of flagrant and almost diabolical exaggeration and blubbering idiocy printed on every package of EPIC animal detritus disguised as packaged human hunting-targets. Hitler praising the Jews and the Bolsheviks as necessary adjuncts to progress is less of an affront to hypothetical utterances than the bloviating addled rhapsodies of the above-quoted packaging propaganda. The US Constitution is less sweeping in its delusional suppositions and imaginary goals and purposes than the boasting announcements of an EPIC-bar package.
How does it taste? It tastes like carrion. If you went to the savannahs of the Dark Continent and laid one of these things onto the surface of the veldt within minutes every scavenger in Africa would be trotting into view. The skies, like some mind-twisting sci-fi movie, would darken with wings approaching from all corners of the overhead blue dome, like a massive, coagulating high altitude black puddle from space. Jackals, hyenas, vultures, and every predator in the trees and high grasses would trot, not walk, toward the source of the rotted smell. An EPIC bar, unwrapped and waved overhead to allow the currents and breezes to catch the atoms of decay and waft them to the far oceans of the southern hemisphere would raise C'thulhu from the depths of his oceanic slumber. His dreaming mind would pop awake to full attention and he would rise in the moonlight of the quiet empty sea at midnight, in stench and steaming foulness, and begin to slosh in thousand-league plodding focused strides of determination toward where all the other eaters-of-offal were already gathered to devour the EPIC bar.
if zombies had a culture and a society they would have EPIC bars in their 7-11's. When they could not find the time to eat a proper meal of writhing screaming homo sapiens they could pop an EPIC bar into their mouths and get that same-taste satisfaction that eating warm steamy pulled-to-shreds human body parts brings.
"EPIC foods are inspired by the simple yet highly powered diets of our ancestors."
Our fucking ancestors ate crap. They didnt even have fire. They ate worse shit than what a deranged bum who lives inside a Chinese restaurant's dumpster eats. Half the food of "our ancestors" was filled with maggots. Most of the time they were eating each other. Killing and eating fellow-humans was certainly less problematic than trying to chase down a fucking eland.
"The same diets that have driven human innovation, inspired creativity, and fueled over 100,000 years of brilliant evolution."
Jesus fucking christ dead on the cross and laughed at by the flies feeding off the infections oozing through the scrotal flesh of the festering balls of Allah!…..human innovation didnt even start until alternating current. The previous hundred thousand years were pretty grim. And before the Sumerians human life was downright ridiculous. A hundred thousand years of eating each other's feces inspired creativity? What sort of creativity?…..new concepts of savagery? The same diets "that fueled a hundred thousand years of brilliant evolution"? Our food fueled our evolution? Not the conditions that needed adapting to? But rather the snatching of bananas from our neighbors or the yanking of a gazelle bone, festered and stinking, from the beak of a squawking vulture? This fueled our evolution? Eating tainted meat and hippo-beshatted tubers? Darwin kicked-in once we started burying our ape faces into piles of deceased-wildebeest mucus?
I still have the unpackaged EPIC bar on the table so that the undulating currents of stench emanating out from it and into my tortured nostrils will aid in my paen to its atrocities and my pain at the images it elicits in my now-totally-fevered imagination. So, fair to say, an EPIC bar does not lack certain virtues: it inspires creativity. Just like the label says, come to think of it. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe these are really really good. And of course I am being silly. They are not good. They are abominations called food. They are the Apocalypse in your backpack.
Inside the package, along with the evolution insurance policy that is the bar itself is an additional packet, I see. It has printed all over it the words "do not eat." The irony just never stops with this product.
