You are using an out of date browser. It may not display this or other websites correctly. You should upgrade or use an alternative browser.
CareercowRobert Chipman / Bob / Moviebob / "Movieblob" - Middle-Aged Consoomer, CWC with a Thesaurus, Ardent Male Feminist and Superior Futurist, the Twice-Fired, the Mario-Worshipper, publicly dismantled by Hot Dog Girl, now a diabetic
This comment may age badly later, but does anyone else think Bob is in his Twilight Years? The last bit of relevancy seemed to die when he was shitcanned from the Escapist a second time. He's now 40 years old, has no major jobs at any writing outlet and has unintentionally burned all bridges with the woke crowd and major media sites by saying stupid, crazy shit out loud in public.
It feels like what he's doing now, hot takes on Twitter and comic book movie consumption, is going to be the entire story for his life for whatever's left of it until the triple bypass takes him out.
I am incredibly late with this post, but since I couldn't find any posts that dove into detail on this, I figured I could burn off some poorly-timed caffeine by breaking down one of Bob's most famous personally relevant tweets. No, not the Lindsay Ellis one. The other one. You know the one.
The weeks and months following this tweet saw no shortage of the same two or three jokes poking fun at the same subject matter, so I'll spare you the effort of reading them again, and instead offer my autistic layman's thoughts on the first question that popped in my head when I saw this image:
How hard would this order fuck over a McDonald's?
To do this, I'm going to make three assumptions based on real-world experience of how a McDonald's works. I think you'll find these constraints make for both a more realistic and infinitely more entertaining vision of how Sodium Roberto would get his daily rations.
1. The items in the image must come in quantities that a normal McDonald's would have in stock. This prohibits our hypothetical Bob from weaseling out of the calorie count by saying that he actually only ordered 13 small McNuggets, or some shit like that.
2. The McDonald's frequented must have stock in quantities that are commensurate with "normal" weekday traffic. In the real world, a McDonald's with even a whiff of foot traffic will never have a full kitchen of food available, hence why you may have to wait for 15 minutes or so while your food is being soullessly heated up carefully prepared. I'm going to be generous and say that this McDonald's is at 66% stock when Bob comes in.
3. Following from 2., there must be a "normal" amount of traffic currently present in our McDonald's. This prevents Bob from wheeling his way into a deserted McDonald's, clearing out the entire kitchen's stock, and swiftly wheeling his way back out. I'm going to be a dick and place Bob in the middle of a drive-through lane, just because I think he deserves to wait while kitchen is sacrificing all of its remaining stock to his fat ass.
With these parameters in place, we can begin our analysis.
Jesus fucking Christ. I am completely floored not only at the sheer amount of artery-clogging fare on display, but at the incredible, almost militaresque logistics required to produce and transport all of that food into an average-sized person's car in two minutes or less. This image contains 12 items of sheer hell, which are, going clockwise:
- Four Large Cokes. They could actually be Diet, but that's only in the same sense that I could actually be a carnivorous fox spirit with Internet access.
- Two 20-piece Chicken McNuggets. The visible amount in both boxes is less than 20 apiece, but I'm going with this number because 1. the boxes they're contained in are bigger than all of a modern McDonald's regular McNugget boxes, 2. McDonald's doesn't sell McNuggets in quantities between 10 and 20, and you know goddamned well those are not "10 nuggets with change", and 3. McNuggets pack deceptively well in a box, so it may very well be 20 apiece.
- Four double cheeseburgers. They appear to be plain, but that detail subtracts so little calories from the total that it's basically irrelevant. The top right doesn't actually appear to be a double cheeseburger, but since McDonald's doesn't usually serve any Cheese/Hamburger/Cheese burgers, I'm going to count it as one anyway.
- Two Large "World Famous Fries" (from McDonald's online nutrition menu). World famous? Debatable. Unhealthy? Absolutely. McDonald's fries are deceptively dense, and should you attempt this challenge as a smaller-than-average-sized person, you're almost guaranteed to tap out before finishing even one of the orders.
In a sterling effort to improve their nutritional reputation among the general public, McDonald's has released an online nutrition calculator for all of its regular meal items. Results from the Clown himself are at the bottom, but let's just say for now that, much like Bob's original tweet, it doesn't look good. For now, let's focus on the order at hand. Hurry, because the manager says each one has to be served in under two minutes to keep the line moving! A waiting customer isn't a paying customer, and you need to make money to survive, right? So let's get to it!
Let's do a wellness check on the store first. This should really come after the order is served, but since I'm a generous man, we'll add this one for free.
The front is fine. Since the dining area is closed due to COVID, everyone who wants another shot at a lifetime supply of Lipitor is at the drive-thru. The drinks are flowing like water (and other, less-watery beverages), and the fries are at full supply, as they somehow always are. There's a few cars waiting for their order, but other than that, everything is peachy keen.
The kitchen is hanging in there. A few orders have reduced its supplies of everything to 66% max capacity. Ideally, there would be 3 trays each of warm McNuggets (at around 30 nuggets a tray) and hamburger patties (at exactly 8 patties a tray) in the cross-kitchen warmer. However, an influx of exceptionally gifted students just moments before has left 1.5 trays empty, leaving us with 45 nuggets to play with. Not good, but we don't know that yet. Moreover, one of our hamburger trays is out, although as the damage is spread across three trays, thanks to an annoying coworker who insists on "having an even number of patties for each tray", no one notices. Remember this fact: it will prove to be our undoing in a few paragraphs.
There are other items in the kitchen, too, but since this image has mercifully spared our beloved Crispy Chicken Sandwiches from the Blob's wrath, we won't count them for our purposes.
Everything seems great so far. No real room for concern. The manager's even made us a Caramel Frappé just for stopping by. How nice of him! Let's bring Bob in.
Storm clouds roll on the horizon as the shaking inches closer and closer to us, although everyone's too busy making orders to notice. Minutes later, the predator finally meets its prey. A window rolls down, revealing a greasy, misshapen, and bespectacled human head. The cute girl up front, hardened to years of clumsy and ill-advised attempts at seduction, puts on her friendliest smile and sings her mating call:
"Welcome to McDonald's, how may I serve you today?"
"I'd like four double cheeseburgers, two 20-piece nuggets, two large fries, and four large Cokes."
Behind a beaming smile lies the throes of imminent despair. The girl wants to stop him, but she can't. The customer is always right, after all. As soon as she punches in the order, the kitchen's order screen is lit up with a thousand letters. The war has begun.
Kitchen's nugget supply is wiped out immediately. The grill guy, who had been preparing a spare tray of patties, is forced to stop midway just to fill all the McNugget orders. The fryer guy carries away three empty McNugget trays and gets to work on more. He has to fill three fryers with McNuggets and wait for them to cook, which takes him out for the rest of the order.
The first line guy wants to kill himself. He has to drop, dress, and deliver four sets of double cheeseburgers in under two minutes, or his manager will start yelling at the kitchen again. He, too, is out of commission for the rest of the order.
The second line guy's thirst for symmetry is threatening to kill him. Eight patties across four double cheeseburgers has left him with only about three patties left in each tray. The grill guy is still busy filling McNuggets, so he can't drop the patties he so desperately needs. He fulfills the orders, although he isn't happy about it.
The fry guy is fine. He always has enough fries for the order. He has no idea what the other four guys are complaining about. He doesn't know that while they're all tied up making this single order, the clock is ticking on all the other orders that are coming both before and after it. Bob's quantities will devastate the kitchen if orders keep coming. They do.
The front girls are shitting themselves. With four large Cokes occupying valuable space in the fountain drink conveyer belt, drink orders are backed up for every single car behind Bob. Moreover, the holding area is starting to become dangerously filled with stacks of greasy carbs. In a futile effort to contain the sprawling beast, the two senior crew members on duty begin to dedicate themselves wholly to bagging the lurching towers of food. The girls join in. Soon, a human supply chain is established, with nearly ten pairs of hands passing bag after bag of food from the kitchen to the drive-thru window. This action, although valiant, is deadly for the store's time quota. It is 15 minutes until the store is finally rid of the Beast, and by this time, the manager on duty is very angry.
The manager understands that the entirety of his kitchen, including himself, has just had its stores completely emptied at the command of a single order. However, he cannot understand why they haven't been replenished. However, with nearly every member of kitchen struggling to rush the rest of the orders out with the limited stock they have, the task is impossible to fulfill, and the food remains unprepared. It only takes three more orders to deal the coup de grâce to the store. The remaining trays are all depleted at the same time, which means that until more patties can be dropped, there is physically no more food that can be served in the entire store.
For the manager, life right now is hell. Orders haven't been served yet at 700 seconds and counting, the kitchen has a complete and total food shortage with no reinforcements in sight, and there is a slowly-growing line of angry customers expecting a free meal for their undue wait. His yelling does nothing to make the speed of time go any faster, but it does sap what little morale remains among the beleaguered staff. With staff broken and exhausted, orders take even longer to prepare and serve. Customers, their senses motivated to misplaced anger by the wait, are up in arms, and only one thing will put them at ease: free food. Even with this, the store cannot recover. It is an hour until the last customer behind Bob is finally served, and although the McDonald's has served more food than it ever has since its opening, it has been forced to give every last order away for free. The war, costly as it was, is finally over.
The Caramel Frappé, second casualty of war, has been left melted and overturned in the chaos. It is a fitting symbol for the staff as a whole: every last worker is dirty, drenched in sweat, and boiling over with pitch-black hatred. The kitchen staff, who have watched helplessly as their orders stayed unserved on the screen, are demoralized from 60 straight minutes of desperate invective from the manager. The front staff, half of which have now turned the butch kind of lesbian, are in absolutely no shape for continued front-facing customer service. The manager, bless him, is almost ready to rip someone's head off in full view of the entire staff for costing him so much potential profit. And the customers? They just waited nearly an hour for a fucking burger! Something is clearly wrong with this McDonald's, and they won't stand for it. With their tastes soured by the establishment's obvious incompetence, these customers will think twice before coming back again.
In returning to our question, the answer is clear. This order dwarfs all but the most barbaric quintuple-Quarter orders, and any normal McDonald's that is not already accustomed to its scale would be immediately overwhelmed by it. Bob's order, combined with McDonald's corporate policy on acceptable quantities of food preparation, would be impossible to fulfill in under two minutes, and its sheer magnitude is completely inconsiderate of every customer with the misfortune to fall behind it. His order wouldn't be turned away, of course. After all, the customer is always right. But his order would be a death sentence to any McDonald's with a line of orders to fulfill, and as he wheeled himself away with his fairly small pallet of food, I would wager to think that it wouldn't even cross his mind, chowing down easily but alone in his basement apartment, about all the quantifiable human suffering that went into making his food.
Those are most certainly NOT Double Cheeseburgers.
They are DOUBLE QUARTER-POUNDERS.
Source: I used to make these many, many moons ago, and enjoy both hamburgers and Quarter Pounders occasionally. Hamburger buns at Mickey D's have no sesame seeds. Quarter pounder buns do. Hell, the size in relation to the rest of the food makes it abundantly clear that they're Double QPs.
both the grandparents on my mam's side lived through WW2 as adults in the occupied Netherlands, and didn't know from day to day whether they'd live to see the next day; if they were still alive and of sound mind, it's fair to say they'd just see your man Trump as a gobshite, and they'd take a very poor view of trivialising the Nazi atrocities (not to mention the fact the trivialiser would rapidly get a crash course in Dutch swear words if they didn't shut up PDQ)
they weren't even Jewish, Roma, crippled or otherwise undesirable - they were just ordinary working Dutch people
I found a small, sturdy figurine of Mario holding up one of the vegetables from SMB2 in a tiny outlet while vacationing in New Hampshire and wound up carrying him in my pocket the rest of the way through grade school as a good luck totem... which I very much needed.
Oh shut up Blob. Police automation is a genuinely scary thing, and trivialising it in the way you've done makes you look like someone with no understanding of the problems caused by technology.
I unironically think AOC's right on the money here, or at the very least a lot closer to the right answer than Kino Roberto and the various people who want to recreate Robocop in NY do. While I don't believe that ”more counselors and youth clubs” will solve all the crime there is, I'd rather have my money being spent on a youth club that, at best, keeps people out of gangs and, at worst, gives some people a place to play table tennis, than on something that's straight out of 1984.
Peter Coffin Malthus was an idiot; Moon Wheat will solve overpopulation. And the world can accommodate more people if only we can get rid of Peter Coffin's fans.
Let me just point out that:
• there have been several societies in human history where homosexuality was legalised, if not accepted, and
• none of those societies had troonery on the scale we do.
poor hooter girls having to pretend to smile to the fat retard inbred hick that orders one beer and 21342353467y6 chicken wings and stay the whole day and then he pretends that he is drunk to oogle on them
Those are most certainly NOT Double Cheeseburgers.
They are DOUBLE QUARTER-POUNDERS.
Source: I used to make these many, many moons ago, and enjoy both hamburgers and Quarter Pounders occasionally. Hamburger buns at Mickey D's have no sesame seeds. Quarter pounder buns do. Hell, the size in relation to the rest of the food makes it abundantly clear that they're Double QPs.
Holy shit, you're right. In my mad rush to eviscerate Bob with every word of the English language, I forgot to actually look at the picture. Please accept my apology by means of an updated nutrition factsheet.
This information changes the story a bit. If I recall correctly, one Quarter patty takes 120 seconds to cook, and we're looking at eight of the motherfucking things, which means a completely full grill. I'm not going to spend another hour and a half writing McDonald's fanfiction, but you can rest assured that at least one person's going to have a nervous breakdown at the end of this order.
Holy shit, you're right. In my mad rush to eviscerate Bob with every word of the English language, I forgot to actually look at the picture. Please accept my apology by means of an updated nutrition factsheet.
This information changes the story a bit. If I recall correctly, one Quarter patty takes 120 seconds to cook, and we're looking at eight of the motherfucking things, which means a completely full grill. I'm not going to spend another hour and a half writing McDonald's fanfiction, but you can rest assured that at least one person's going to have a nervous breakdown at the end of this order.
I am incredibly late with this post, but since I couldn't find any posts that dove into detail on this, I figured I could burn off some poorly-timed caffeine by breaking down one of Bob's most famous personally relevant tweets. No, not the Lindsay Ellis one. The other one. You know the one.
The weeks and months following this tweet saw no shortage of the same two or three jokes poking fun at the same subject matter, so I'll spare you the effort of reading them again, and instead offer my autistic layman's thoughts on the first question that popped in my head when I saw this image:
How hard would this order fuck over a McDonald's?
To do this, I'm going to make three assumptions based on real-world experience of how a McDonald's works. I think you'll find these constraints make for both a more realistic and infinitely more entertaining vision of how Sodium Roberto would get his daily rations.
1. The items in the image must come in quantities that a normal McDonald's would have in stock. This prohibits our hypothetical Bob from weaseling out of the calorie count by saying that he actually only ordered 13 small McNuggets, or some shit like that.
2. The McDonald's frequented must have stock in quantities that are commensurate with "normal" weekday traffic. In the real world, a McDonald's with even a whiff of foot traffic will never have a full kitchen of food available, hence why you may have to wait for 15 minutes or so while your food is being soullessly heated up carefully prepared. I'm going to be generous and say that this McDonald's is at 66% stock when Bob comes in.
3. Following from 2., there must be a "normal" amount of traffic currently present in our McDonald's. This prevents Bob from wheeling his way into a deserted McDonald's, clearing out the entire kitchen's stock, and swiftly wheeling his way back out. I'm going to be a dick and place Bob in the middle of a drive-through lane, just because I think he deserves to wait while kitchen is sacrificing all of its remaining stock to his fat ass.
With these parameters in place, we can begin our analysis.
Jesus fucking Christ. I am completely floored not only at the sheer amount of artery-clogging fare on display, but at the incredible, almost militaresque logistics required to produce and transport all of that food into an average-sized person's car in two minutes or less. This image contains 12 items of sheer hell, which are, going clockwise:
- Four Large Cokes. They could actually be Diet, but that's only in the same sense that I could actually be a carnivorous fox spirit with Internet access.
- Two 20-piece Chicken McNuggets. The visible amount in both boxes is less than 20 apiece, but I'm going with this number because 1. the boxes they're contained in are bigger than all of a modern McDonald's regular McNugget boxes, 2. McDonald's doesn't sell McNuggets in quantities between 10 and 20, and you know goddamned well those are not "10 nuggets with change", and 3. McNuggets pack deceptively well in a box, so it may very well be 20 apiece.
- Four double cheeseburgers. They appear to be plain, but that detail subtracts so little calories from the total that it's basically irrelevant. The top right doesn't actually appear to be a double cheeseburger, but since McDonald's doesn't usually serve any Cheese/Hamburger/Cheese burgers, I'm going to count it as one anyway.
- Two Large "World Famous Fries" (from McDonald's online nutrition menu). World famous? Debatable. Unhealthy? Absolutely. McDonald's fries are deceptively dense, and should you attempt this challenge as a smaller-than-average-sized person, you're almost guaranteed to tap out before finishing even one of the orders.
In a sterling effort to improve their nutritional reputation among the general public, McDonald's has released an online nutrition calculator for all of its regular meal items. Results from the Clown himself are at the bottom, but let's just say for now that, much like Bob's original tweet, it doesn't look good. For now, let's focus on the order at hand. Hurry, because the manager says each one has to be served in under two minutes to keep the line moving! A waiting customer isn't a paying customer, and you need to make money to survive, right? So let's get to it!
Let's do a wellness check on the store first. This should really come after the order is served, but since I'm a generous man, we'll add this one for free.
The front is fine. Since the dining area is closed due to COVID, everyone who wants another shot at a lifetime supply of Lipitor is at the drive-thru. The drinks are flowing like water (and other, less-watery beverages), and the fries are at full supply, as they somehow always are. There's a few cars waiting for their order, but other than that, everything is peachy keen.
The kitchen is hanging in there. A few orders have reduced its supplies of everything to 66% max capacity. Ideally, there would be 3 trays each of warm McNuggets (at around 30 nuggets a tray) and hamburger patties (at exactly 8 patties a tray) in the cross-kitchen warmer. However, an influx of exceptionally gifted students just moments before has left 1.5 trays empty, leaving us with 45 nuggets to play with. Not good, but we don't know that yet. Moreover, one of our hamburger trays is out, although as the damage is spread across three trays, thanks to an annoying coworker who insists on "having an even number of patties for each tray", no one notices. Remember this fact: it will prove to be our undoing in a few paragraphs.
There are other items in the kitchen, too, but since this image has mercifully spared our beloved Crispy Chicken Sandwiches from the Blob's wrath, we won't count them for our purposes.
Everything seems great so far. No real room for concern. The manager's even made us a Caramel Frappé just for stopping by. How nice of him! Let's bring Bob in.
Storm clouds roll on the horizon as the shaking inches closer and closer to us, although everyone's too busy making orders to notice. Minutes later, the predator finally meets its prey. A window rolls down, revealing a greasy, misshapen, and bespectacled human head. The cute girl up front, hardened to years of clumsy and ill-advised attempts at seduction, puts on her friendliest smile and sings her mating call:
"Welcome to McDonald's, how may I serve you today?"
"I'd like four double cheeseburgers, two 20-piece nuggets, two large fries, and four large Cokes."
Behind a beaming smile lies the throes of imminent despair. The girl wants to stop him, but she can't. The customer is always right, after all. As soon as she punches in the order, the kitchen's order screen is lit up with a thousand letters. The war has begun.
Kitchen's nugget supply is wiped out immediately. The grill guy, who had been preparing a spare tray of patties, is forced to stop midway just to fill all the McNugget orders. The fryer guy carries away three empty McNugget trays and gets to work on more. He has to fill three fryers with McNuggets and wait for them to cook, which takes him out for the rest of the order.
The first line guy wants to kill himself. He has to drop, dress, and deliver four sets of double cheeseburgers in under two minutes, or his manager will start yelling at the kitchen again. He, too, is out of commission for the rest of the order.
The second line guy's thirst for symmetry is threatening to kill him. Eight patties across four double cheeseburgers has left him with only about three patties left in each tray. The grill guy is still busy filling McNuggets, so he can't drop the patties he so desperately needs. He fulfills the orders, although he isn't happy about it.
The fry guy is fine. He always has enough fries for the order. He has no idea what the other four guys are complaining about. He doesn't know that while they're all tied up making this single order, the clock is ticking on all the other orders that are coming both before and after it. Bob's quantities will devastate the kitchen if orders keep coming. They do.
The front girls are shitting themselves. With four large Cokes occupying valuable space in the fountain drink conveyer belt, drink orders are backed up for every single car behind Bob. Moreover, the holding area is starting to become dangerously filled with stacks of greasy carbs. In a futile effort to contain the sprawling beast, the two senior crew members on duty begin to dedicate themselves wholly to bagging the lurching towers of food. The girls join in. Soon, a human supply chain is established, with nearly ten pairs of hands passing bag after bag of food from the kitchen to the drive-thru window. This action, although valiant, is deadly for the store's time quota. It is 15 minutes until the store is finally rid of the Beast, and by this time, the manager on duty is very angry.
The manager understands that the entirety of his kitchen, including himself, has just had its stores completely emptied at the command of a single order. However, he cannot understand why they haven't been replenished. However, with nearly every member of kitchen struggling to rush the rest of the orders out with the limited stock they have, the task is impossible to fulfill, and the food remains unprepared. It only takes three more orders to deal the coup de grâce to the store. The remaining trays are all depleted at the same time, which means that until more patties can be dropped, there is physically no more food that can be served in the entire store.
For the manager, life right now is hell. Orders haven't been served yet at 700 seconds and counting, the kitchen has a complete and total food shortage with no reinforcements in sight, and there is a slowly-growing line of angry customers expecting a free meal for their undue wait. His yelling does nothing to make the speed of time go any faster, but it does sap what little morale remains among the beleaguered staff. With staff broken and exhausted, orders take even longer to prepare and serve. Customers, their senses motivated to misplaced anger by the wait, are up in arms, and only one thing will put them at ease: free food. Even with this, the store cannot recover. It is an hour until the last customer behind Bob is finally served, and although the McDonald's has served more food than it ever has since its opening, it has been forced to give every last order away for free. The war, costly as it was, is finally over.
The Caramel Frappé, second casualty of war, has been left melted and overturned in the chaos. It is a fitting symbol for the staff as a whole: every last worker is dirty, drenched in sweat, and boiling over with pitch-black hatred. The kitchen staff, who have watched helplessly as their orders stayed unserved on the screen, are demoralized from 60 straight minutes of desperate invective from the manager. The front staff, half of which have now turned the butch kind of lesbian, are in absolutely no shape for continued front-facing customer service. The manager, bless him, is almost ready to rip someone's head off in full view of the entire staff for costing him so much potential profit. And the customers? They just waited nearly an hour for a fucking burger! Something is clearly wrong with this McDonald's, and they won't stand for it. With their tastes soured by the establishment's obvious incompetence, these customers will think twice before coming back again.
In returning to our question, the answer is clear. This order dwarfs all but the most barbaric quintuple-Quarter orders, and any normal McDonald's that is not already accustomed to its scale would be immediately overwhelmed by it. Bob's order, combined with McDonald's corporate policy on acceptable quantities of food preparation, would be impossible to fulfill in under two minutes, and its sheer magnitude is completely inconsiderate of every customer with the misfortune to fall behind it. His order wouldn't be turned away, of course. After all, the customer is always right. But his order would be a death sentence to any McDonald's with a line of orders to fulfill, and as he wheeled himself away with his fairly small pallet of food, I would wager to think that it wouldn't even cross his mind, chowing down easily but alone in his basement apartment, about all the quantifiable human suffering that went into making his food.
This is the sort of autism that makes me love coming to the farms. Bravo.
I'm curious, though. Suppose there was a Mickey D's that had a certain regular customer...let's call him Rob. They know he comes in at the same time everyday and always gets his usual "fairly small amount of McDonalds for an average-sized person." Even with advance warning and foreknowledge of Rob's order, would they be able to get him his food without causing cascading delays for other customers?
"There is no bad dogs, only bad owners" -- so even a robot dog that fails to recognize niggers is not a "bad dog". View attachment 1951289
The problem, as Bobby sees it, is that white cops have too much empathy to white people: View attachment 1951034
Because law enforcement should be just like Bob: wishing the worst on white people: View attachment 1951045
"I'm EXTREMELY nuanced about violence" -- Robert Chipman.
+ + + + Peter Coffin Malthus was an idiot; Moon Wheat will solve overpopulation. And the world can accommodate more people if only we can get rid of Peter Coffin's fans. View attachment 1951258
+ + + +
Lots of tranny bullshit today. View attachment 1951271
Just as it isn't rocket science that, if you let children indulge in their fairly small portions of McDonalds, they will end up with obesity, diabetes, cancer and hundreds of other chronic diseases. It is the responsibility for parents and medical professionals to point out and eliminate harmful influences, not to authorize them.
Bobby is glad that the Conservative Prophecy about the Desexing of Mr. Potato Head didn't come through: View attachment 1951286
Samuel Adams Beer decides your cousin is a nigger: View attachment 1951090
"He's family, whether we like it or not," will Bobby "respect" this if said "cousin" voted Trump?
Doesn't Amazon offer free lunches though? Not sure how they are in States, but from what I hear about the ones here they treat their employees pretty well.
This is the sort of autism that makes me love coming to the farms. Bravo.
I'm curious, though. Suppose there was a Mickey D's that had a certain regular customer...let's call him Rob. They know he comes in at the same time everyday and always gets his usual "fairly small amount of McDonalds for an average-sized person." Even with advance warning and foreknowledge of Rob's order, would they be able to get him his food without causing cascading delays for other customers?
Honestly? They probably would. I've never seen it happen before so this is pure conjecture, but judging by how OCD I've seen kitchen crew get, and how many extra meal items appear between incomplete and cancelled orders, I wouldn't be surprised if it happened.
What happens is that in a McDonald's, kitchen crew is (probably operantly?) conditioned to process the loud fucking equipment beeps and shiny computer text hovering above them and produce a standardized product based on the input. In non-autist speak, that means that kitchen crew literally only makes what they see on screen. If it's not there, it doesn't exist to them. Conversely, if an order was placed but the customer drives away because they like fucking with front crew or something, the order will still be made, and it will be doomed to spend the rest of its life in Food Purgatory, warming away in the holding area either until someone just happens to order the same thing, it gets stolen by an oppressed wagie, or it gets thrown out.
What all this bullshit has to do with the question at hand is that kitchen crew are very adaptable to the orders they're given. It wouldn't be too much of a stretch to assume that even without advance orders, someone at kitchen crew would make the primal association between "no fat man food" => "manager yell loud words" => "make kitchen sad" and start making it anyway after a few days of conditioning. Even if he doesn't come, we could just handwave the literal pyramids of food as "extra", just waiting for another sorry motherfucker to take up the White Man's Burden.
Of course, Rob could just call in and we'd make it for him beforehand, but that's not as fun.
If you ever encounter this scenario, then you're eating at a fucking McDonald's so you're kind of forfeiting your right to demand higher quality fare, but all the same, if you care, you should be a bit wary of food that arrives at your car too quickly. If your food is taking too long to arrive, then that's either just a regular old kitchen fuck-up or grounds to beat the shit out of the driver in front of you. However, if you place a reasonably long order and we throw it to you in 15 seconds or less, then you're eating someone's old extra burger. It's rigorously standardized to be just as safe as the fresh burger we would have made for you, but you might want to specially request it fresh if you're concerned about it.
Amusing read but to be fair that really is a fairly small amount of food, not for an average person as Bob said, but for a takeout for four. I bet you often saw someone making such an order -- if not every hour, then at least several times a day. If that throws the whole store into disarray and makes the manager blow up, then the system is poorly optimized.
Entertaining read but to be fair that really is a fairly small amount of food, not for an average person as Bob said, but for a takeout for four. I bet you often saw someone making such an order -- if not every hour, then at least several times a day. If that throws the whole store into disarray and makes the manager blow up, then the system is poorly optimized.
Oh yeah, no argument there. It's not like we just never have any food on stock, but issues usually arise when for one reason or another (understaffing, too many orders punched in as urgent) we aren't given the time to restock. It's incredible the difference a few seconds makes in helping every order go by more smoothly, and I think it really shows just how rigorously structured the overall business design is.
I am incredibly late with this post, but since I couldn't find any posts that dove into detail on this, I figured I could burn off some poorly-timed caffeine by breaking down one of Bob's most famous personally relevant tweets. No, not the Lindsay Ellis one. The other one. You know the one.
The weeks and months following this tweet saw no shortage of the same two or three jokes poking fun at the same subject matter, so I'll spare you the effort of reading them again, and instead offer my autistic layman's thoughts on the first question that popped in my head when I saw this image:
How hard would this order fuck over a McDonald's?
To do this, I'm going to make three assumptions based on real-world experience of how a McDonald's works. I think you'll find these constraints make for both a more realistic and infinitely more entertaining vision of how Sodium Roberto would get his daily rations.
1. The items in the image must come in quantities that a normal McDonald's would have in stock. This prohibits our hypothetical Bob from weaseling out of the calorie count by saying that he actually only ordered 13 small McNuggets, or some shit like that.
2. The McDonald's frequented must have stock in quantities that are commensurate with "normal" weekday traffic. In the real world, a McDonald's with even a whiff of foot traffic will never have a full kitchen of food available, hence why you may have to wait for 15 minutes or so while your food is being soullessly heated up carefully prepared. I'm going to be generous and say that this McDonald's is at 66% stock when Bob comes in.
3. Following from 2., there must be a "normal" amount of traffic currently present in our McDonald's. This prevents Bob from wheeling his way into a deserted McDonald's, clearing out the entire kitchen's stock, and swiftly wheeling his way back out. I'm going to be a dick and place Bob in the middle of a drive-through lane, just because I think he deserves to wait while kitchen is sacrificing all of its remaining stock to his fat ass.
With these parameters in place, we can begin our analysis.
Jesus fucking Christ. I am completely floored not only at the sheer amount of artery-clogging fare on display, but at the incredible, almost militaresque logistics required to produce and transport all of that food into an average-sized person's car in two minutes or less. This image contains 12 items of sheer hell, which are, going clockwise:
- Four Large Cokes. They could actually be Diet, but that's only in the same sense that I could actually be a carnivorous fox spirit with Internet access.
- Two 20-piece Chicken McNuggets. The visible amount in both boxes is less than 20 apiece, but I'm going with this number because 1. the boxes they're contained in are bigger than all of a modern McDonald's regular McNugget boxes, 2. McDonald's doesn't sell McNuggets in quantities between 10 and 20, and you know goddamned well those are not "10 nuggets with change", and 3. McNuggets pack deceptively well in a box, so it may very well be 20 apiece.
- Four double cheeseburgers. They appear to be plain, but that detail subtracts so little calories from the total that it's basically irrelevant. The top right doesn't actually appear to be a double cheeseburger, but since McDonald's doesn't usually serve any Cheese/Hamburger/Cheese burgers, I'm going to count it as one anyway.
- Two Large "World Famous Fries" (from McDonald's online nutrition menu). World famous? Debatable. Unhealthy? Absolutely. McDonald's fries are deceptively dense, and should you attempt this challenge as a smaller-than-average-sized person, you're almost guaranteed to tap out before finishing even one of the orders.
In a sterling effort to improve their nutritional reputation among the general public, McDonald's has released an online nutrition calculator for all of its regular meal items. Results from the Clown himself are at the bottom, but let's just say for now that, much like Bob's original tweet, it doesn't look good. For now, let's focus on the order at hand. Hurry, because the manager says each one has to be served in under two minutes to keep the line moving! A waiting customer isn't a paying customer, and you need to make money to survive, right? So let's get to it!
Let's do a wellness check on the store first. This should really come after the order is served, but since I'm a generous man, we'll add this one for free.
The front is fine. Since the dining area is closed due to COVID, everyone who wants another shot at a lifetime supply of Lipitor is at the drive-thru. The drinks are flowing like water (and other, less-watery beverages), and the fries are at full supply, as they somehow always are. There's a few cars waiting for their order, but other than that, everything is peachy keen.
The kitchen is hanging in there. A few orders have reduced its supplies of everything to 66% max capacity. Ideally, there would be 3 trays each of warm McNuggets (at around 30 nuggets a tray) and hamburger patties (at exactly 8 patties a tray) in the cross-kitchen warmer. However, an influx of exceptionally gifted students just moments before has left 1.5 trays empty, leaving us with 45 nuggets to play with. Not good, but we don't know that yet. Moreover, one of our hamburger trays is out, although as the damage is spread across three trays, thanks to an annoying coworker who insists on "having an even number of patties for each tray", no one notices. Remember this fact: it will prove to be our undoing in a few paragraphs.
There are other items in the kitchen, too, but since this image has mercifully spared our beloved Crispy Chicken Sandwiches from the Blob's wrath, we won't count them for our purposes.
Everything seems great so far. No real room for concern. The manager's even made us a Caramel Frappé just for stopping by. How nice of him! Let's bring Bob in.
Storm clouds roll on the horizon as the shaking inches closer and closer to us, although everyone's too busy making orders to notice. Minutes later, the predator finally meets its prey. A window rolls down, revealing a greasy, misshapen, and bespectacled human head. The cute girl up front, hardened to years of clumsy and ill-advised attempts at seduction, puts on her friendliest smile and sings her mating call:
"Welcome to McDonald's, how may I serve you today?"
"I'd like four double cheeseburgers, two 20-piece nuggets, two large fries, and four large Cokes."
Behind a beaming smile lies the throes of imminent despair. The girl wants to stop him, but she can't. The customer is always right, after all. As soon as she punches in the order, the kitchen's order screen is lit up with a thousand letters. The war has begun.
Kitchen's nugget supply is wiped out immediately. The grill guy, who had been preparing a spare tray of patties, is forced to stop midway just to fill all the McNugget orders. The fryer guy carries away three empty McNugget trays and gets to work on more. He has to fill three fryers with McNuggets and wait for them to cook, which takes him out for the rest of the order.
The first line guy wants to kill himself. He has to drop, dress, and deliver four sets of double cheeseburgers in under two minutes, or his manager will start yelling at the kitchen again. He, too, is out of commission for the rest of the order.
The second line guy's thirst for symmetry is threatening to kill him. Eight patties across four double cheeseburgers has left him with only about three patties left in each tray. The grill guy is still busy filling McNuggets, so he can't drop the patties he so desperately needs. He fulfills the orders, although he isn't happy about it.
The fry guy is fine. He always has enough fries for the order. He has no idea what the other four guys are complaining about. He doesn't know that while they're all tied up making this single order, the clock is ticking on all the other orders that are coming both before and after it. Bob's quantities will devastate the kitchen if orders keep coming. They do.
The front girls are shitting themselves. With four large Cokes occupying valuable space in the fountain drink conveyer belt, drink orders are backed up for every single car behind Bob. Moreover, the holding area is starting to become dangerously filled with stacks of greasy carbs. In a futile effort to contain the sprawling beast, the two senior crew members on duty begin to dedicate themselves wholly to bagging the lurching towers of food. The girls join in. Soon, a human supply chain is established, with nearly ten pairs of hands passing bag after bag of food from the kitchen to the drive-thru window. This action, although valiant, is deadly for the store's time quota. It is 15 minutes until the store is finally rid of the Beast, and by this time, the manager on duty is very angry.
The manager understands that the entirety of his kitchen, including himself, has just had its stores completely emptied at the command of a single order. However, he cannot understand why they haven't been replenished. However, with nearly every member of kitchen struggling to rush the rest of the orders out with the limited stock they have, the task is impossible to fulfill, and the food remains unprepared. It only takes three more orders to deal the coup de grâce to the store. The remaining trays are all depleted at the same time, which means that until more patties can be dropped, there is physically no more food that can be served in the entire store.
For the manager, life right now is hell. Orders haven't been served yet at 700 seconds and counting, the kitchen has a complete and total food shortage with no reinforcements in sight, and there is a slowly-growing line of angry customers expecting a free meal for their undue wait. His yelling does nothing to make the speed of time go any faster, but it does sap what little morale remains among the beleaguered staff. With staff broken and exhausted, orders take even longer to prepare and serve. Customers, their senses motivated to misplaced anger by the wait, are up in arms, and only one thing will put them at ease: free food. Even with this, the store cannot recover. It is an hour until the last customer behind Bob is finally served, and although the McDonald's has served more food than it ever has since its opening, it has been forced to give every last order away for free. The war, costly as it was, is finally over.
The Caramel Frappé, second casualty of war, has been left melted and overturned in the chaos. It is a fitting symbol for the staff as a whole: every last worker is dirty, drenched in sweat, and boiling over with pitch-black hatred. The kitchen staff, who have watched helplessly as their orders stayed unserved on the screen, are demoralized from 60 straight minutes of desperate invective from the manager. The front staff, half of which have now turned the butch kind of lesbian, are in absolutely no shape for continued front-facing customer service. The manager, bless him, is almost ready to rip someone's head off in full view of the entire staff for costing him so much potential profit. And the customers? They just waited nearly an hour for a fucking burger! Something is clearly wrong with this McDonald's, and they won't stand for it. With their tastes soured by the establishment's obvious incompetence, these customers will think twice before coming back again.
In returning to our question, the answer is clear. This order dwarfs all but the most barbaric quintuple-Quarter orders, and any normal McDonald's that is not already accustomed to its scale would be immediately overwhelmed by it. Bob's order, combined with McDonald's corporate policy on acceptable quantities of food preparation, would be impossible to fulfill in under two minutes, and its sheer magnitude is completely inconsiderate of every customer with the misfortune to fall behind it. His order wouldn't be turned away, of course. After all, the customer is always right. But his order would be a death sentence to any McDonald's with a line of orders to fulfill, and as he wheeled himself away with his fairly small pallet of food, I would wager to think that it wouldn't even cross his mind, chowing down easily but alone in his basement apartment, about all the quantifiable human suffering that went into making his food.
Massive load of calories and salt aside, the entire order wouldn't be out of place for a group or family order. Are you telling me that every time a family of four orders together, the entire kitchen goes into pants-shitting terror, depleting all resources and all but murdering the working peons? A fast food restaurant that advertises itself as a sort of family place, reduced to a warzone every single time a family comes in? Sorry, I'm not buying the drama factor here.
I do buy that Macces employees in and around Boston all hate Bob, and that his arteries must be hardened tubes of lard, but a Macces won't experience D-Day every time someone orders more than one menu.
Honestly? They probably would. I've never seen it happen before so this is pure conjecture, but judging by how OCD I've seen kitchen crew get, and how many extra meal items appear between incomplete and cancelled orders, I wouldn't be surprised if it happened.
What happens is that in a McDonald's, kitchen crew is (probably operantly?) conditioned to process the loud fucking equipment beeps and shiny computer text hovering above them and produce a standardized product based on the input. In non-autist speak, that means that kitchen crew literally only makes what they see on screen. If it's not there, it doesn't exist to them. Conversely, if an order was placed but the customer drives away because they like fucking with front crew or something, the order will still be made, and it will be doomed to spend the rest of its life in Food Purgatory, warming away in the holding area either until someone just happens to order the same thing, it gets stolen by an oppressed wagie, or it gets thrown out.
What all this bullshit has to do with the question at hand is that kitchen crew are very adaptable to the orders they're given. It wouldn't be too much of a stretch to assume that even without advance orders, someone at kitchen crew would make the primal association between "no fat man food" => "manager yell loud words" => "make kitchen sad" and start making it anyway after a few days of conditioning. Even if he doesn't come, we could just handwave the literal pyramids of food as "extra", just waiting for another sorry motherfucker to take up the White Man's Burden.
Of course, Rob could just call in and we'd make it for him beforehand, but that's not as fun.
If you ever encounter this scenario, then you're eating at a fucking McDonald's so you're kind of forfeiting your right to demand higher quality fare, but all the same, if you care, you should be a bit wary of food that arrives at your car too quickly. If your food is taking too long to arrive, then that's either just a regular old kitchen fuck-up or grounds to beat the shit out of the driver in front of you. However, if you place a reasonably long order and we throw it to you in 15 seconds or less, then you're eating someone's old extra burger. It's rigorously standardized to be just as safe as the fresh burger we would have made for you, but you might want to specially request it fresh if you're concerned about it.
as a veteran of classic McD's, back before this "made-to-order" thing was put in, managers had us make a certain amount of food and keep a certain amount of each type of food ready. Back in the days of 'Q-ing' (fancy terminology for microwaving food for a few seconds to make sure it's really good and hot, right after being prepared - they stopped doing this in the late 90s), IIRC we never really got kitchen-busting orders like that, at least not that i can remember. So, circa pre-1997, Bob could absolutely order that amount of food at a McDonald's (if it was like say the tail end of the lunch or dinner rush, or near the end of the night, when there was often surplus food), and have a reasonable expectation of getting it without slamming the kitchen that hard. Especially if he was 1) a regular and 2) asked for this rather Average Amount Of Food every time. Even at the one I was at, McChickens/Nuggets was a separate station from the grills, with one or two people at it (back then), and they could just send em back to the freezers to pull more nuggets if necessary, and maybe some patties too if they needed them. Or they'd send the person cleaning lobby to go get all that stuff. Which I did, many, many times when I was "lobby".
But modern practices McDonald's? Totally different story, yeah. Easy to get slammed if it's all made-to-order and not sitting in a slot waiting for people to order them. I don't think Bob realizes this difference. Five will get you ten that he never, ever worked in Fast Food, let alone McD's.
Speaking of the kitchen shitting its pants in terror, then there was that time that Bob claimed he ordered like a shit ton of McNuggets and like 50 sauce packets... for a party that I'm pretty sure he crashed.
You can really tell which community is leading these attacks given the general lack of bringing up the "white supremacy" talking point. Now, that has been utilized to an extent, but most of these posts just bring up the generic "stop the hate" slogan. If they ever decide to say who is most at fault, they won't call it "racist" but rather "colorist" or "prejudiced" or whatever fucking word they'll use to weasel out of being honest. It isn't exactly rare and privileged information that the black community has harried, assaulted, and attempted to burn down Asian communities before, but these are good little intersectionalists so they won't ever confront the reality of the situation. Bob will be a dutiful little ally and virtue signal for whatever narrative is set in stone over the blood of these people.
There used to be a great documentary on YouTube that I can't seem to find anymore (wonder why) about the LA Riots from the perspective of the Asian community, and it was basically 40 minutes of them dunking on the black community for being lazy, violent assholes who would constantly harass or steal from the businesses Korean immigrants started and worked 12 hours a day at to put their kids through school.
I think at one point one of the guys straight up says the black community hate Asian-Americans because they are willing to do everything the gibs mob aren't (i.e. work hard, build a business and maintain a family unit) which ruins the narrative of the evil pale face keeping the coloreds down.
After the Capitol incident, I was reading comments that mentioned the time AOC and other left-wing protesters gathered outside Pelosi's office along with intimidating other representives (I don't remember if this was before or after she was elected to Congress). Did Bob ever chime in to defend his waifu?
Other than Bob starting to push blame onto Israel (pleasegetmoreunhingedpleasegetmoreunhingedpleasegetmoreunhinged) for us being, to quote his quote, "in war", it was the 432% increase in drone strikes that got me. I had never heard that number before so I let keyboard do the walking and looked it up. I could only find one article with that number. It's from something called The New American and it was written just months after Trump took office.
The gist of it is is that in 36 days Trump did 45 drone strikes and that's an increase of 432% of what Obama's average was.
I couldn't find that number in my, admittedly small, search anywhere else. However, I did find multiple outlets all reporting that Trumps drone strikes were much higher than Obama's but it couldn't fully be verified as The Government restricts information about strikes. Whether that's new with the Trump administration or has always been the case I don't know and none of the articles I looked at bothered to clarify.
I'm pointing this out and sperging about this because all that info would've been nice to fucking know at any point during his 4 years instead of being shoveled shit into my face with things like the piss dossier which faggots like Bob still believe is real to this very day.
EDIT:
Well fuck me running. I bitch about drone strikes and then I find out that Bob's already addressed this.
tl;dr
"Yeah I 'get' what's TRYING to be said here but you could easily interpret this as BLM or fags wanting to blow shit up"
No you fat retard. No one other than you and your autistic hanger ons and trannies, but I repeat myself, are unable to extrapolate from this image macro that it's a distinction without a difference. No one other than whom I've just mentioned looks at the republican plane bombing and see the same exact plane doing the bombing only with DEMOCRATS at the top and a bunch of woke LABLES put on the side and thinks "This is just saying that BLM and fags wanna blow shit up!". You are fucking stupid Bob.
And while I'm here and we're already talking about trannies, we lost an angel sometime last night.
Bob shows his support for someone detained because of the goddamned borders and has nothing to do with them being a tranny porn "artist" trying to hawk their wares of thicc women and futas.
The hero of their own story based on shit that didn't happen, just like Bob!
And for you true deviants among us or those who lost any and all hope, the tweeted pics of thicc vamp hoo-haw.
You were warned.
No idea how Bob found this. He follows neither account on either of his known accounts. I'm also pressing X to doubt that border patrol stopped some tranny at the border to get IN to Canada and now first tranny needs to raise funds so that he can fly down to fascist America to single handedly save his pillow biter but only if you give enough you bigot.
I am incredibly late with this post, but since I couldn't find any posts that dove into detail on this, I figured I could burn off some poorly-timed caffeine by breaking down one of Bob's most famous personally relevant tweets. No, not the Lindsay Ellis one. The other one. You know the one.
The weeks and months following this tweet saw no shortage of the same two or three jokes poking fun at the same subject matter, so I'll spare you the effort of reading them again, and instead offer my autistic layman's thoughts on the first question that popped in my head when I saw this image:
How hard would this order fuck over a McDonald's?
To do this, I'm going to make three assumptions based on real-world experience of how a McDonald's works. I think you'll find these constraints make for both a more realistic and infinitely more entertaining vision of how Sodium Roberto would get his daily rations.
1. The items in the image must come in quantities that a normal McDonald's would have in stock. This prohibits our hypothetical Bob from weaseling out of the calorie count by saying that he actually only ordered 13 small McNuggets, or some shit like that.
2. The McDonald's frequented must have stock in quantities that are commensurate with "normal" weekday traffic. In the real world, a McDonald's with even a whiff of foot traffic will never have a full kitchen of food available, hence why you may have to wait for 15 minutes or so while your food is being soullessly heated up carefully prepared. I'm going to be generous and say that this McDonald's is at 66% stock when Bob comes in.
3. Following from 2., there must be a "normal" amount of traffic currently present in our McDonald's. This prevents Bob from wheeling his way into a deserted McDonald's, clearing out the entire kitchen's stock, and swiftly wheeling his way back out. I'm going to be a dick and place Bob in the middle of a drive-through lane, just because I think he deserves to wait while kitchen is sacrificing all of its remaining stock to his fat ass.
With these parameters in place, we can begin our analysis.
Jesus fucking Christ. I am completely floored not only at the sheer amount of artery-clogging fare on display, but at the incredible, almost militaresque logistics required to produce and transport all of that food into an average-sized person's car in two minutes or less. This image contains 12 items of sheer hell, which are, going clockwise:
- Four Large Cokes. They could actually be Diet, but that's only in the same sense that I could actually be a carnivorous fox spirit with Internet access.
- Two 20-piece Chicken McNuggets. The visible amount in both boxes is less than 20 apiece, but I'm going with this number because 1. the boxes they're contained in are bigger than all of a modern McDonald's regular McNugget boxes, 2. McDonald's doesn't sell McNuggets in quantities between 10 and 20, and you know goddamned well those are not "10 nuggets with change", and 3. McNuggets pack deceptively well in a box, so it may very well be 20 apiece.
- Four double cheeseburgers. They appear to be plain, but that detail subtracts so little calories from the total that it's basically irrelevant. The top right doesn't actually appear to be a double cheeseburger, but since McDonald's doesn't usually serve any Cheese/Hamburger/Cheese burgers, I'm going to count it as one anyway.
- Two Large "World Famous Fries" (from McDonald's online nutrition menu). World famous? Debatable. Unhealthy? Absolutely. McDonald's fries are deceptively dense, and should you attempt this challenge as a smaller-than-average-sized person, you're almost guaranteed to tap out before finishing even one of the orders.
In a sterling effort to improve their nutritional reputation among the general public, McDonald's has released an online nutrition calculator for all of its regular meal items. Results from the Clown himself are at the bottom, but let's just say for now that, much like Bob's original tweet, it doesn't look good. For now, let's focus on the order at hand. Hurry, because the manager says each one has to be served in under two minutes to keep the line moving! A waiting customer isn't a paying customer, and you need to make money to survive, right? So let's get to it!
Let's do a wellness check on the store first. This should really come after the order is served, but since I'm a generous man, we'll add this one for free.
The front is fine. Since the dining area is closed due to COVID, everyone who wants another shot at a lifetime supply of Lipitor is at the drive-thru. The drinks are flowing like water (and other, less-watery beverages), and the fries are at full supply, as they somehow always are. There's a few cars waiting for their order, but other than that, everything is peachy keen.
The kitchen is hanging in there. A few orders have reduced its supplies of everything to 66% max capacity. Ideally, there would be 3 trays each of warm McNuggets (at around 30 nuggets a tray) and hamburger patties (at exactly 8 patties a tray) in the cross-kitchen warmer. However, an influx of exceptionally gifted students just moments before has left 1.5 trays empty, leaving us with 45 nuggets to play with. Not good, but we don't know that yet. Moreover, one of our hamburger trays is out, although as the damage is spread across three trays, thanks to an annoying coworker who insists on "having an even number of patties for each tray", no one notices. Remember this fact: it will prove to be our undoing in a few paragraphs.
There are other items in the kitchen, too, but since this image has mercifully spared our beloved Crispy Chicken Sandwiches from the Blob's wrath, we won't count them for our purposes.
Everything seems great so far. No real room for concern. The manager's even made us a Caramel Frappé just for stopping by. How nice of him! Let's bring Bob in.
Storm clouds roll on the horizon as the shaking inches closer and closer to us, although everyone's too busy making orders to notice. Minutes later, the predator finally meets its prey. A window rolls down, revealing a greasy, misshapen, and bespectacled human head. The cute girl up front, hardened to years of clumsy and ill-advised attempts at seduction, puts on her friendliest smile and sings her mating call:
"Welcome to McDonald's, how may I serve you today?"
"I'd like four double cheeseburgers, two 20-piece nuggets, two large fries, and four large Cokes."
Behind a beaming smile lies the throes of imminent despair. The girl wants to stop him, but she can't. The customer is always right, after all. As soon as she punches in the order, the kitchen's order screen is lit up with a thousand letters. The war has begun.
Kitchen's nugget supply is wiped out immediately. The grill guy, who had been preparing a spare tray of patties, is forced to stop midway just to fill all the McNugget orders. The fryer guy carries away three empty McNugget trays and gets to work on more. He has to fill three fryers with McNuggets and wait for them to cook, which takes him out for the rest of the order.
The first line guy wants to kill himself. He has to drop, dress, and deliver four sets of double cheeseburgers in under two minutes, or his manager will start yelling at the kitchen again. He, too, is out of commission for the rest of the order.
The second line guy's thirst for symmetry is threatening to kill him. Eight patties across four double cheeseburgers has left him with only about three patties left in each tray. The grill guy is still busy filling McNuggets, so he can't drop the patties he so desperately needs. He fulfills the orders, although he isn't happy about it.
The fry guy is fine. He always has enough fries for the order. He has no idea what the other four guys are complaining about. He doesn't know that while they're all tied up making this single order, the clock is ticking on all the other orders that are coming both before and after it. Bob's quantities will devastate the kitchen if orders keep coming. They do.
The front girls are shitting themselves. With four large Cokes occupying valuable space in the fountain drink conveyer belt, drink orders are backed up for every single car behind Bob. Moreover, the holding area is starting to become dangerously filled with stacks of greasy carbs. In a futile effort to contain the sprawling beast, the two senior crew members on duty begin to dedicate themselves wholly to bagging the lurching towers of food. The girls join in. Soon, a human supply chain is established, with nearly ten pairs of hands passing bag after bag of food from the kitchen to the drive-thru window. This action, although valiant, is deadly for the store's time quota. It is 15 minutes until the store is finally rid of the Beast, and by this time, the manager on duty is very angry.
The manager understands that the entirety of his kitchen, including himself, has just had its stores completely emptied at the command of a single order. However, he cannot understand why they haven't been replenished. However, with nearly every member of kitchen struggling to rush the rest of the orders out with the limited stock they have, the task is impossible to fulfill, and the food remains unprepared. It only takes three more orders to deal the coup de grâce to the store. The remaining trays are all depleted at the same time, which means that until more patties can be dropped, there is physically no more food that can be served in the entire store.
For the manager, life right now is hell. Orders haven't been served yet at 700 seconds and counting, the kitchen has a complete and total food shortage with no reinforcements in sight, and there is a slowly-growing line of angry customers expecting a free meal for their undue wait. His yelling does nothing to make the speed of time go any faster, but it does sap what little morale remains among the beleaguered staff. With staff broken and exhausted, orders take even longer to prepare and serve. Customers, their senses motivated to misplaced anger by the wait, are up in arms, and only one thing will put them at ease: free food. Even with this, the store cannot recover. It is an hour until the last customer behind Bob is finally served, and although the McDonald's has served more food than it ever has since its opening, it has been forced to give every last order away for free. The war, costly as it was, is finally over.
The Caramel Frappé, second casualty of war, has been left melted and overturned in the chaos. It is a fitting symbol for the staff as a whole: every last worker is dirty, drenched in sweat, and boiling over with pitch-black hatred. The kitchen staff, who have watched helplessly as their orders stayed unserved on the screen, are demoralized from 60 straight minutes of desperate invective from the manager. The front staff, half of which have now turned the butch kind of lesbian, are in absolutely no shape for continued front-facing customer service. The manager, bless him, is almost ready to rip someone's head off in full view of the entire staff for costing him so much potential profit. And the customers? They just waited nearly an hour for a fucking burger! Something is clearly wrong with this McDonald's, and they won't stand for it. With their tastes soured by the establishment's obvious incompetence, these customers will think twice before coming back again.
In returning to our question, the answer is clear. This order dwarfs all but the most barbaric quintuple-Quarter orders, and any normal McDonald's that is not already accustomed to its scale would be immediately overwhelmed by it. Bob's order, combined with McDonald's corporate policy on acceptable quantities of food preparation, would be impossible to fulfill in under two minutes, and its sheer magnitude is completely inconsiderate of every customer with the misfortune to fall behind it. His order wouldn't be turned away, of course. After all, the customer is always right. But his order would be a death sentence to any McDonald's with a line of orders to fulfill, and as he wheeled himself away with his fairly small pallet of food, I would wager to think that it wouldn't even cross his mind, chowing down easily but alone in his basement apartment, about all the quantifiable human suffering that went into making his food.
I want to rate you autistic but I can't. I'm legitimately impressed. That breakdown was near robot like in it's mathematical precision. Bravo good fox spirit.
View attachment 1951948
Other than Bob starting to push blame onto Israel (pleasegetmoreunhingedpleasegetmoreunhingedpleasegetmoreunhinged) for us being, to quote his quote, "in war", it was the 432% increase in drone strikes that got me. I had never heard that number before so I let keyboard do the walking and looked it up. I could only find one article with that number. It's from something called The New American and it was written just months after Trump took office.
The gist of it is is that in 36 days Trump did 45 drone strikes and that's an increase of 432% of what Obama's average was.
I couldn't find that number in my, admittedly small, search anywhere else. However, I did find multiple outlets all reporting that Trumps drone strikes were much higher than Obama's but it couldn't fully be verified as The Government restricts information about strikes. Whether that's new with the Trump administration or has always been the case I don't know and none of the articles I looked at bothered to clarify.
I'm pointing this out and sperging about this because all that info would've been nice to fucking know at any point during his 4 years instead of being shoveled shit into my face with things like the piss dossier which faggots like Bob still believe is real to this very day.
EDIT:
Well fuck me running. I bitch about drone strikes and then I find out that Bob's already addressed this.
tl;dr
"Yeah I 'get' what's TRYING to be said here but you could easily interpret this as BLM or fags wanting to blow shit up"
No you fat retard. No one other than you and your autistic hanger ons and trannies, but I repeat myself, are unable to extrapolate from this image macro that it's a distinction without a difference. No one other than whom I've just mentioned looks at the republican plane bombing and see the same exact plane doing the bombing only with DEMOCRATS at the top and a bunch of woke LABLES put on the side and thinks "This is just saying that BLM and fags wanna blow shit up!". You are fucking stupid Bob.
And while I'm here and we're already talking about trannies, we lost an angel sometime last night.
Given that Trump ordered troops withdrawn from Syria and the military lied to him about it, it wouldn't surprise me at all if Trump ordered drone strikes to be reduced and the generals are like, "lolz we gonna set them up da bomb moar."
