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A Woman In Harlem Says That She Found A Rat Head In Her Popeye's Fried Chicken

rat

A live look at Popeye’s investors:
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Listen, all fast food customers know that we are getting a collection of shitty meat that may or may not include a vermin or two in exchange for cheap, tasty food. That’s just the way the world works. All we ask is that if a pest did make its way into the fryer, at least fry it to the point that there is at least a reasonable doubt that what we are eating is an acceptable animal. That’s the first unwritten rule between fast food restaurants and their customers.

Because there is no doubt in my mind that this is a rat. Popeye’s can try to spin zone that it is a chicken organ or some shit. But if you almost ate something that looks like a rat head in your meal while eating at a New York fast food joint, you almost ate a rat. That simple. The “A” grade on the door basically just means “We didn’t see any actual rodents or roaches when we conducted this review, but you are probably fucked anyway because this is New York”. Even Chick-Fil-A had to shut down after they moved to New York. And they are the cleanest fast food chain out there. If the Health Department graded without a curve, every restaurant would fail and all New Yorkers would die of starvation as they tried to learn how to cook in their shoebox kitchens.

Today is one of those days I thank God I never fuck with Popeye’s chicken. I had it once and hated it. I think it was partially because I ordered a sweet tea thinking it was regular sweetened iced tea and almost threw up. And partially because my simple suburban taste buds were not ready for that Louisiana sass. When it comes to fried chicken in the Clem household, it is KFC for life. I’ve been messing with the Colonel long before the letters KFC were associated with hatred and the term skinny fat. I don’t care if KFC is frying up mutated chickens or a skunk the workers found on the side of the road. Those 11 glorious herbs and spices are the great eraser in the culinary arts.