Writer's Block Party

For some days of blog, the idea tank is running on E. But nonetheless, we press on with some sort of inspired inner sense of public service. After all, if the funny is not brought, then it is indeed left behind. And every time you leave behind the funny, an angel gets its wings clipped. And nobody wants angels with subpar flying appendages sailing through the air without any speed or steering mechanism. Do you?

Actually, I have no idea if that’s true. Can’t really confirm. In fact, some would go so far to say that I just made that up. Eh, it doesn’t matter. Because you’re still reading, and I haven’t actually said anything of importance yet. Muwaha.

Two posts ago, Rob Harford let the struggling writers of the world know, in one simple narrative, just how easy it is to blog. This man, my friends, is a pillar of the blogging community and his efforts to help his fellow blograde (that’s blog-rad, not blo-grade) has not gone unnoticed. If we here at YAB were in charge of those “Real Men of Genius” commercials, we certainly could write one about old Ro-Ha. (or at the very least give him one of those clever Starbucks Doubleshot commercials). For Rob has told us how to blog, and on a day when I’m reaching for ideas, I will take his advice and put each of his four prescriptions to the test. And for this little experiment, it appears I need something random to focus on. And as an homage to Rob, I shall make a common Burger King philosophy my target. Enjoy.

1. Try ranting. You know what really ticks me off? Burger King. Not the guy per se, but how he always cheats out of my order every time just gets my goat. Wait, I don’t have a goat. Damn! He already got it. So sneaky, that royal jerk.
   When I order French Fries with my meal, His Majesty always gives me a prefect order. One carton. All fries. All good. But what happens when I take the King for his true strength and order onion rings? One carton. Mostly rings. One fry. Did I ask the man to replace one of my onion rings with a fry. I’d like to think that if I wanted one, I would have ordered it. But instead, I’m left with an imposter in our mist – a fry that would be much better off in circular, breaded form. Bwah!
   
2. Educate your readers. From a business marketing standpoint, the reason for one loner fry tucked away in a sea of onion rings is quite simple. Burger King takes great pride in heir product offerings. Paramount to this pride is their love of their fries. A few years back, BK changed the recipe of their fries in order to compete with their archrival, the clown farmer. So even if you order the onion rings, the King would like you to know that the fries are to die for. Thus, in a chaotic stroke of cross-promotion, Burger King employees are instructed to insert an emissary from the fry world into your combo meal as a reminder to check out his friends on your next visit.
   
3. Talk about something that is important to you. – I wish I could say fast food is important to me, but it really is not. But corporate franchising is. I’ve rarely talked about Burger King in the past because I have spent very little time in my life residing in close proximity to a BK. The closest to my house in Medford was on Rte. 70, college had one down Richmond Road somewhere, and my three successive apartments in the No. VA have put my closer to Wendy’s and McDonald’s than the crown-wearing burger. What gives, Your Eminence?
   
4. Make something up. – I read somewhere that fast food ketchup packets cause cancer. Fryer beware.