Guest Columnist: Hamburglar

(Vagabond Saint is out sick this week.  Filling in today is nationally syndicated columnist and former McDonald’s Spokesperson Hamburglar, with a special edition of his Ask The Hamburglar advice column.)

Ask The Hamburglar!

Todays Guest Columnist

Today's Guest Columnist

Q: Dear Hamburglar,

I have been married to a wonderful man for 8 years now.  Our marriage is fine, but I can not stand his mother!  Every time she comes over, she nitpicks about the tiniest things, like a little dust on the counters and a little laundry here and there! We both work full time and are raising 5 children and don’t always have time to take care of the little details.  How can I get her to get off my back?

Woman On The Edge
A: Yeah, I know I’ve not been around for a while.  You might have noticed me missing from McDonald’s commercials for the past decade or so.  That’s because they shit-canned me.  With an extra helping of shit, to be honest.  That’s right, McDonald’s, leading employer of 30-year-olds without high school diplomas and #1 provider of childhood obesity, canned me.  Why?  They said I was a bad role model!  ME!  Yeah, I steal hamburgers.  So what?  I’m hungry, and that’s just how we roll back in Robbulstan.  Besides, every time I stole some burgers, I always got my ass humiliated and sent to prison in the 1930s, from the look of my goddamn uniform.  You’d think that would be great for kids, ’cause it teaches them not to steal shit. But nooooooooooo, I’m the one that’s a bad role model, out of all those freaks and bizarro people I worked with there.

Let me tell you something about Birdie:  we didn’t call her “Birdie” because she could fly and had a pilot’s license.  We called her “Birdie” because she was higher than the fucking stratosphere all the goddamn time.  (While we’re on the bird theme, we could have called her “Cockatiel,” if you know what I mean.)  If she had hollow bones like a real bird does, they were most likely stuffed with coke at any given moment.  If you could snort it, inject it, smoke it, or drink it, Birdie had it in large fucking supply.  Why do you think she was always walking in circles, making airplane noises?  She wasn’t just being cute, she was higher than Amy Winehouse in a three-way with Keith Richards and another equally-high Keith Richards.  And I’m the bad role model.

Q: Dear Hamburglar,

I’m in my junior year of college and, for the first time in my life, I’ve found a woman that I’ve fallen in love with.  The problem is, I’m a virgin.  I don’t even know all that much about sex, and I don’t know how to break it to her that I’m really inexperienced.  I’ve heard that’s a big turnoff for women.  Is that true?  Should I tell her or should I just buy some porn and learn about it on my own first?

Inexperienced In Illinois

A: For all that I could say about Birdie (and there’s a lot), at least she’s from this planet.  Grimace is a fucking illegal alien, and when I say “alien,” understand I am not fucking around, alright?  That guy’s from outer space somewhere, I swear.  We never could get a clear answer out of that clown.  He’d just play stupid whenever we tried asking for his green card and cry whenever he saw a picture of Pluto.  On top of being in this country, never mind on this planet, illegally, he’s gay too.  That’s right, Grimace is a big ol’ Purple Penis Eater.  You might be wondering how a vaguely-conical alien blob that never wears clothes could even have sexual organs.  Trust me.  They’re there.  And if he gets drunk, there’s a 98% chance he’ll show them to you, and then you can have haunted goddamn nightmares, too.  Don’t ever go drinking with that fucker and pass out near him, is what I’m saying.

Q: Dear Hamburglar,

I need help!  One of my old buddies from school wants me to be the best man at his wedding and his fiance is great, but it turns out that the woman I’ve been a “friends with benefit” with for years is her mother, and the woman who joined in for three-ways sometimes is her aunt!  What do I do?

Scared Of Exposure

A: Ronald McDonald?  Oh, don’t get me started on that asshat.  Of all the freaks there were in that group, he was the motherfucking King, bar none.  First of all, that’s not makeup.  That’s what that jackass really looks like.  It’s like someone gave the fucking Joker a perm and a goddamn horrible dye job.  On top of that, the guy just couldn’t keep it in his pants.  Many times we had to sneak out of town because he got caught groping a kid, an employee, a manager, or a manager’s spouse.  It was just a goddamn shame.  You know what they say about guys who wear big shoes?  Well there’s a lot of disappointment comin’ for women who like guys with big floppy shoes, and let me put the emphasis on “floppy.”  It’s like he couldn’t get it up, so he tried to attack everything in sight to make up for it and popped pills of all colours like a madman.  It was fucking tragic.

I remember one time we went into a McDonald’s in Laredo, just putting in an appearance for all these kids and their parents that had shown up, and Ronald just fucking walks in, whips his shit out, yells out “You want fries with this, bitches?” and starts laughing maniacally.  6 billion served with hush money, that fuckin’ day.  And I’m the bad role model that got fired.

Fucking bastards.

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Hamburglar’s nationally-syndicated column, “Ask The Hamburglar,” appears in over 250 newspapers nationwide.

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2 Responses to “Guest Columnist: Hamburglar”

  1. Robble robble. Robble.

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