Evidence Of Cannibalism At Jamestown Probably A Marketing Stunt

I mean, right? It’s inconceivable to me that researchers working to uncover remains of the doomed 17th century colony of Jamestown, Virginia, would go to all the trouble of digging up this skeleton, figuring out it was that of a 14-year-old-girl, putting together a mask of what she looked like and announcing that she was eaten if they didn’t have corporate sponsorship. No, I think this chilling evidence of cannibalism among starving Europeans in the New World is merely a stepping stone in some restaurant chain’s multi-platform media strategy. In fact, I believe I know exactly who’s behind this: Yes, Kentucky Fried Chicken, I’m onto you. KFC, as we know, has been promoting its boneless chicken with the baffling “I ate the bones!” ad campaign, which posits that the customer is either an idiot or some kind of fairy tale ogre. But boneless chicken is not enough—you’ve got to point out that competitor meats, including human, are full of problematic bones, and not the kind you can just eat by accident. The people who butchered this young woman, researches said, had to hack through skull and tibia and man, couldn’t you go for some hassle-free chicken bites served in a bucket right now? Remind me never to colonize a place without a strip mall.

Colonel Sanders Wants You to Know That KFC Loves Gays

Fear not chicken lovers: the latest Funny or Die Chick-Fil-A parody sends a message of goodwill to cheap, unhealthy, fastfood-deprived gays, complete with a cheesy harmonica soundtrack and a chicken-slinging John Goodman. “It don’t take a boney-fide Einstein genius to know that I’m an oldy-fashioned sort. But when it comes to the subjuct-ification of marriage rights, I reckon I’m a bit more progressive than my pals down at Chick-Fil-A,” says Sanders.

“Yup, let it be known that Colonel Sanders LOVES the gays. Hell, I might even be gay!”

The Colonel goes on to effuse his undying love for his favorite Bette Midler album, Thighs and Whispers.

To really provide a convincing argument, he promises that he’s not just pandering to get more “gay business.” “Hell, I don’t actually give a shit. Gay or not, you’re all just a bunch of big ol’ money mouths walking around, talking and eating.”

Now that’s more like it: no more beating around the cockamamie bush! Best of all, they’re open on Sundays… and who can beat the portability of a handy, indestructible, grease-shielding bowl?

I’ll always choose you, KFC, for all my midnight hormone-laden chicken cravings from now on, promise.