For years, the world over, many people had very good associations with the brand name “Cadbury”,
And all year they’d dream of chocolate eggs filled with cream – In any Easter basket they always reigned supreme.
But this week we find out that Kraft is going to mess with the sacred eggs we love so much – they’re fucking with the recipe,
To save a little money, “Yeah, they’ll taste a little funny, but don’t worry, we’ll still give you the chicken-clucking bunnies.”
They don’t care about the difference an ingredient makes, but if you’re going to fuck with my Cadbury Eggs, fuck you! Fuck you!
Hey Kraft, you want to change something? Maybe you should start with those mac and cheese boxes and oversized marshmallows,
Or those American Singles, the ones that taste like shingles and clog up your bloodstream ’till your left arm tingles.
You can’t trust anything in this world when you have all of these greedy corporate bastards taking short-cuts with the quality,
Of stuff we’ve loved since childhood – do they really think that we would spend our money on these eggs that won’t taste the way that they should?
I know one hand gives while the other hand takes, but you’re going to take away my Cadbury Eggs? Fuck you! Fuck you!
These are totally unnecessary. We bought some for Luka immediately.
In Fangs of the Living Dead (1969) we get this great catfight when Blinka and her two friends gang up on Bertha in an epic battle of the bulges. Uncle Pervy stands there watching, apparently enjoying the spectacle as much as we do.
(Want more choreographed girl-on-girl violence? Make sure to check out What Could Go Wrong?’s B-Horror Catfight Playlist.)
Some relationships scar you for life. Jeanne gets plenty of attention from the fellas, but she likes to run with the bad boys. Nick has the need for speed, and driving fast really revs Jeanne’s engine. Does anyone NOT see where this is going? Needless to say, once Jeanne is released from the hospital, she realizes things can never be the same for her and her disfigured mug. That fateful night has turned out to be her Last Date (1947).
From Skullard’s Postcard Collection: Guitars make everything better. It’s a fact. Just look at this guy. He was going to throw himself into a Safeway cardboard compactor after he only got Runner-up in an Ernest Borgnine Look-a-Like contest. He had no girl, no dog, and his truck was repossessed (or maybe it was his dog that got repossessed – that part’s a little fuzzy), but his brother gave him a used guitar and a bottle of Listerine. He learned four chords and suddenly he realized he had all the makings of a country musician. Now he has friends in bars he would have never bothered going into before. He has something to talk about with like-minded idiots. People don’t immediately hate him. He has something else to do with his hands. The world is now a better place because of that guitar. The mouthwash was a big help too.