Common Sense Conservative


12 Things That No Self Respecting Man Should Ever Eat!


There’s nothing worse than coming home from a long day of punching bears in the steel foundry to discover a table full of Luna bars, spray-on salad dressing, and other nonsense that ups your estrogen level just by looking at it. These are the 11 foods no man should ever eat… at least when people are watching.

A Veggie Burger
If you’re not gonna eat meat, then don’t order something meat-flavored… unless you plan on cubing a veggie burger up and stuffing it into a turducken, in which case, pass the gravy.

Lettuce Wraps
Trying to fit into your old prom dress? No? Then put that lettuce wrap between two pieces of bread instead of eating a half-constructed sandwich.

Baby Food
Seriously… when you’re talking about food no man should eat, this is pretty obvious… although stewed carrots do improve eyesight.

Misted Salad Dressing
Isn’t the point of salad dressing to make salad more like soup by pouring a whole bottle on it? Nothing you eat should ever come out of a spray bottle. Ever.

Finger Sandwiches
These are the kinds of crustless, misshapen, cucumber-/cream cheese-stuffed things that’re perfectly at home at a baby shower… yet every time you have a Monday Night Football party, somebody invites his fingerwich-loving girlfriend and her 1/8 sandwiches… which nobody notices you pocketing and eating in the bathroom.

Bon Bons
Yeaaaaah. These things are so girly, you can’t even… oh, crap. That’s ice cream and chocolate, isn’t it? Will anyone notice if you just put 30 in a bowl and mash them up? Because there’s nothing wrong with a man eating chocolate chip ice cream.

A what-hootie? An all-tofu line of ice creams, pizzas, and other things that are completely based on animal products, but minus the animal products. But they’ll totally make you grow bigger boobs. No. No, sir. Except maybe the ice cream sandwiches. Uh, I mean no!

Luna Bars
Every woman in the world carries these things in her purse. They’ve got calcium, folic acid, vitamin D, iron, and other things that, according to the wrapper, are endorsed by the “women of Luna” who, “as women… know the way we eat makes a difference”. That difference includes cookie dough… and if you eat it out of a Clif Bar wrapper, nobody at the gym will know you’re totally making out with your inner goddess.

Even the most ardent vegetarian just calls it a grain. Most of us call it a waste of valuable plate space where meat should be, or a tiny wannabe rice that gets stuck in your molars.

Chocolate-Covered Strawberries
Unless you’re effin’ R. Kelly — and you’ve made the transition from the after-party to the hotel lobby — you shouldn’t be messing with these things, even if your Midwestern mom’s friend brought football-shaped ones to the party… but wait! She’s wholesomely hot. Maybe she likes R. Kelly. You might be on to something amazing here.

Anything You Have To Feign A French Accent To Order
Here’s the thing… pate is internal organs, and offal is hella manly. But pronouncing it all delicately then using a tiny knife to spread it on a cracker? No, Pierre. Just tell them to bring you a wad of liver and a straw.

And last but not least? Turkey Bacon!!

OK, it’s time we have a national dialogue about the travesty known as “turkey bacon.”

For unknown reasons, my wife insists on bringing this illicit substance into our home. Worse, she will sometimes tell me she has “made bacon,” only to have me discover, once I’ve skipped happily into the kitchen with joyous anticipation, that she has not made bacon at all. She has made turkey bacon. Which is not bacon. This is like telling me you’ve made chocolate chip cookies, but instead of giving me a cookie you kick me in the shin and set me on fire.

Let’s be clear: you cannot cut something into thin strips and call it bacon any more than I can vomit into a waffle cone and call it strawberry ice cream. Bacon is bacon. It is perfect and beautiful and God loves it just as it is. Turkey bacon, on the other hand, is not bacon. It is sad and strange and it tastes like Band Aids.

For that matter, let it be said that whole wheat pasta is not pasta. It is soggy, shredded construction paper. And multi-grain bread with seeds and sticks embedded inside it is not bread. It’s not even food. It tastes and looks like something you should bury in your garden or feed to your hamster.

Have we not suffered enough, my fellow citizens? Why must we inflict these outrages on ourselves and our loved ones? Enough, I say. Let our bacon be bacon, our pasta be pasta, and our bread be bread. Let all things be as they are meant to be. Amen. And God bless America.

H/T Matt Walsh

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