Old milk and cigarettes. Over One Billion Served!

So I pull up to the golden arches. You know the ones.
Where, for some reason, there is always a garden hose stretched from the building to the dumpster and some borderline transient is showering the area. Pushing the mystery sludge to the “toxic waste area” (either TO or FROM…it’s hard to tell which because the lovely smell of old milk and yesterdays McMuffins is always wafting through the air).
Anyway, I pull up to the inaudible speaker (which now has a tendency to actually feed back and I find that hilarious) and I order the usual from the artery-hardening menu.

Scccccchreeeeeeeehhhhhhh crrrrrooowwwww aaaaaagggghhhhhhh ggggurrrrsssshhhh
Translation – “Welcome to McDonalds. What can we make for you today?”

“I’ll have a #4 with a coke. Supersize. That’s all please.”
I’m quick to say, “That’s all please”, because I’m well aware of the apple pie sales pitch that is soon to follow and I’m trying to head it off.

Gggggggggghhhhassssshhhh Cuuuuullllllllwwweeeeeeitttttzzzz Meeeeerrrrrrrrrrr
Translation – “We don’t be Supersizin’ no ‘mo.”

“What? You don’t’ Supersize? Why?”

Sssssssssswwweeeeedddrrrnnnasssssh Ooooouuuuuuutttttttissssss
Translation – We be’s out.

“Ok (but I’m not buying it for a second) I’ll have the #4 with a coke. Large. That’s all please.”

Wooooouuuuuuugggrrrrrssshhh Caaaaaaattttttiiiiillllaaaaaazzzzh?
Translation – “Would you like an apple pie with that?”

(damnit! I thought I had ‘em) "NO! I don’t want an apple pie!"

While I’m waiting in line, which is a least 10 minutes because the moron in front of me just ordered a burger without a damn pickle on it and some dumbass inside is on the phone to the main office wondering what to do, I begin to wonder WHY I can’t have Supersize fries.
Then I remember. It’s the little fat ass kids. Apparently McD’s, with the most dangerous menu on the planet, has decided to try and be socially aware of my health because some parents complained that their kids were too freakin’ fat from all the Supersize fries they ingested. Sure as hell couldn’t have been the double quarter pounders or the freakin’ Big Macs now could it?
So there ya have it. Because some parent decided it was more comfy to feed their problem child massive amounts of fries rather than deal with the little bastards problems; I can’t Supersize my damn fries!
What lobbyist organization pulled THIS off? The Organization for the Betterment of Fat Ass Little Bastards with No Friends?

Maybe we should have an age restriction on fries. No that wouldn’t work, and I’ll tell ya why.

So I go into the local Walgreen’s. You know the one. Where every time you go in there, no matter what day or what time, it’s the SAME people working in there. That scares me.
Anyway, I go in there to buy some cough syrup and some cigarettes ( yeah, I know, I know… but that’s a whole other rant). When I get to the counter the sweet little ‘ol lady, the one that’s back there EVERY SINGLE TIME says,

“Are you forty?”

“No.”

“Are you OVER forty?”

“Yes...Why?”

She explained that she had to ask because I was buying cigarettes.
I’m afraid to even think what Phillip Morris is thinking behind this brilliant ploy.
I guess you can be any age to buy the cough syrup that is loaded with enough drugs and alcohol to get Timothy Leary to come to your party but you have to be forty to buy cigarettes.

So this is what it has come to:
Any kid can buy all the alcohol they want if it says “Vicks” on the label but there is no way in HELL you can Supersize your fries and you have to be forty to buy a pack of cigarettes. WTF?!
And here’s the kicker…you only have to be 18 to go to Iraq and get your ass shot off or vote for the nimrods that came up with all this shit.
I understand perfectly.