We’re not judging here or anything, we’re just making some observations of the nature of food products and the prevalence of sexuality in our culture as filtered through the minds of juvenile comedy writers.
You probably can’t buy these any more and it’s just as well, they tasted like ass. And it’s not surprising that they’re ass flavored given how focused on ass they are. WOW was apparently what the Frito-Lay company said whenever they came across oozing anus, because that’s what WOW chips contributed to the world thanks to the miracle of Olestra. Olestra, some kind of fat substitute, caused intestinal cramping and the odd spatter of anal leakage. So you could enjoy your fatty, salty snack, but later it would trickle down your leg.
The fact that Olestra pre-lubes your ass was unintentional, but it still seems suspect at best.
It’s pork and you pull it. Maybe you yank it. Maybe you just aggressively stroke it. Doesn’t matter. Coat it in a sticky liquid and then slap it between two buns. It’s like Richard Simmons invented it.
I’m going to be honest here, I never quite pieced together the etymology of “fruit” as a synonym for gay, but that’s really not relevant. I’m not the arbiter of slang, I just employ it. That being said, bananas look like wieners and a pair of cherries together looks a little like testes. Ha ha!
Canned meat is a risky proposition at the best of times, but there’s something terrifying about Vienna sausage, a can of pale little meat phalluses that look like a gaggles of senior citizens at the sauna who all inexplicably got stuck in the same lugnut.
It’s horribly fabricated cake that tastes like nothing you can make in your own kitchen, and then it’s pumped full of white cream. The moment you’re old enough to be immature enough to make a gay food metaphor, Twinkies are what you make them about in the lunch room at school. And your friends laugh but the male librarian looks on disapprovingly and tells you to cut that out.
Holy Taco would be remiss to not give a nod to our fishy taco brethren. Probably no one who has ever heard of a fish taco hasn’t thought to themselves “hey, that’s funny, makes me think of the vagine.” And we literally mean no one. Henry Kissinger, your grandmother, the Pope, they’ve all doodled a fish taco in the corner of a menu and then two legs spread on either side of it. Probably the Pope’s was blessed or something though.
You can’t lay this one at our feet, so if Martha Stewart is reading this, keep your comments to yourself. We didn’t make quiche gay, we just Googled it and saw that a lot of other people think quiche is gay. It’s eggs and cheese in a little pie of some manner but apparently it’s inextricably linked in the annals of epicurean history to man love. It’s the most Brokeback of all cheese pies.
Yeah, we took the easy way out on this one.