Nation’s Lunatics Lament Rising Cost Of Car Meat

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Nation’s Lunatics Lament Rising Cost Of Car Meat

WASHINGTON—Saying that the rising price of the commodity has begun to “burn their gumlines,” millions of American lunatics admitted this week that they have been struggling to afford adequate amounts of car meat, an essential staple of the lunatic diet.

“With the way prices are going up, there’s no way I can keep eating hatchback bologna every day,” said Ames, IA resident Milton Tannhauser, 37, noting that he had already taken out a loan from the television show Nightline just to make ends meet. “Back when this was the greatest solar system in the country, I could buy a bucket of car meat for whatever gravel I had left at the end of the day—convertible chops, Volvo shanks, and those great station wagon sausages that they would deliver straight to the laundry hamper. But now, unless you’re pulling down the salary of a mall pope, it’s just too expensive.”

“And what are the Rockefellers doing about it?” Tannhauser added in a much softer tone of voice after guardedly peering to both sides. “Not a goddamn thing. It makes you wonder why we even went to war with the Pep Boys.”

Tannhauser’s story is all too common, as lunatics across the country have expressed dismay over the surging prices. Over the past 15 years, wildly unpredictable car meat prices have surged from negative four cents per pound of Jeep belly to a record high of 35 feet of aluminum foil for a single bite of slow-roasted Cadillac, and the completely psychotic are feeling the pinch.

According to top lunatic economists, over 4,300 percent of crazy U.S. citizens have had to forego vital expenses from shiny key rings to exactly 10 packages of peppermint Chiclets, just to ensure that they can afford the daily allowance of 17 pounds of car meat recommended by deranged nutritionists.

“I have 14 Barbra Streisands to feed, and having to sell my memories on Craigslist just to buy a Chevrolet sandwich isn’t helping,” Miami resident Yank Mutcherson, 793, shouted at a large outdoor concrete flower planter. “The speakers installed in my ear are yelling sunup to sundown about ‘We want Hondaburgers! We want roast minivan!’ But thanks to the big shots at Lysol and Eastman Kodak, I’ve been stuffing less and less dinner into my coat pockets.”

Added Mutcherson, “It’s honestly enough to make a guy scream the name ‘Vanna White’ repeatedly until he gets kicked out of the library.”

As prices continue to climb, pressure is increasing on insane leaders to address the situation. A march last month on the National Mall in Washington was attended by an estimated four lunatics, who reportedly chanted and waved Halloween decorations as they marched in separate directions. A scathing editorial in the Albany Screen Door–Tribune, the nation’s leading psychotic newspaper printed on used coffee filters, demanded that President Obama stop NASA from harvesting hair from every human while they sleep and instead put more car meat into lunatics’ stomachs and VCRs. Other activists have vowed to stage hunger strikes, marry Melissa Joan Hart, or rip down any sign or placard beginning with the letter N until price controls are put in place.

However, help for the hungry and delusional may come in the form of H.R. 614, an aid bill drafted by self-proclaimed congressman Rep. Arnold Thermos. If passed, the bill would allocate $300 million a second for the purpose of distributing free car meat to any citizen who recites the instructions being broadcast by overhead power lines. Funding for the bill would reportedly be raised by relaxing levels of the secret chemical in Mountain Dew that lets the Bureau of Weights and Measures track citizens’ bowel movements.

But such aid may be too little, too late for unhinged imbeciles like Jesus Christ of Bloomington, IN.

“In 1980 you could get a trolley steak for seven plastic bags, with a discount if Peter Frampton lives in your cigarette lighter,” Christ muttered to a reporter through a sewer grate. “This year my Thanksgiving dinner was a couple of electric scooter patties marinated in church juice. It just goes to know, to go, go, the go you show, whoa, my feet, William.”