Durst: Mad Cow Disease

Aaah, Beef Wellington. Shepherd's Pie. English Roast Beef. Maybe we can turn a bad thing to our advantage. As long as we developed them why not experiment on enemies of the state using our new raw meat technology as a form of weapon. Kind of like the Chinese water torture of sustenance. Agony snacks. Munchies from Hell. "Is this the succulent prime rib sandwich that's going to turn your brain into a leaky mushy orb -- like a sponge run through with inch wide industrial spikes, or are you going to tell us where the antacid is? All right, then, Bon Appetite!" "Goldfinger, do you expect me to talk?" "No, Mr. Bond, I expect you to eat!" McDonalds even stopped selling hamburgers, which is a par with Dow Jones handing money out to welfare mothers. For years, the English were lulled into thinking the only Mad Cow threatening them was Margaret Thatcher when it seems their entire land was full of them. Joke: Two cows are standing in the English countryside. One says to the other: "I'm a little worried about this mad cow disease." "Not me," says the other. "Why not?" returns the first. "Because I'm a rabbit."