I AM AT WAR WITH THE THE BONEFISH GRILL
The meat grinder of American Industry brutalizes me and me alone.
I started my day, like normal, looking at Twitter (or X) when I came across this tweet from the popular southern family restaurant chain, Bonefish Grill:
Are they for real? Tweeting about vapid TV shows at a moment like this? Someone had to say something, so I responded:
To which the Bonefish Grill wrote:
This was so fucking sickening to a leftist such as myself. Such a soulless capitalistic ploy to sell more Miami Vice Pineapple Burgers. I had to set the Bonefish Grill straight:
And that was when the Bonefish Grill unleashed the Brownshirts. Its army of online acolytes came right for my throat:
So I hit’em back:
That’s when Grillmaster Bryce stepped in to de-escalate:
I don’t know Candice. So I asked:
To which Grillmaster Bryce responded:
This was no longer a civil discourse - this was a coordinated AMBUSH!
TheBonefish Grill decided to stoke the rising flames:
Suffice to say, the Bonefish Grill has lost my birthday dinner forever. I decided to let them know how catastrophically they just fucked up…
…When none other than Red Robin jumped in to say:
At which point everyone involved so far reacted:
GrillMaster Bryce even fabricated the following crude image:
My experience in public discourse at the West Covina Planet Fitness allowed me to stay calm, center my lived experience, and offer a measured response:
To which the FBI immediately countered with:
Jesus Fucking Christ. How deep has the Bonefish Grill dug its claws into our most sacred institutions? Someone had to warn the president!
And believe it or not, the President himself responded to my little old tweet, with:
FOUR MORE YEARS! FOUR MORE YEARS! FOUR MORE—
Goddammit. This fucking sucks. It’s so over for me. I’ll never be able to show my face at the Capital One Cafe again. It was time to bury the hatchet with the Bonefish Grill. To maintain what dignity I had left. To remain graceful in defeat:
To which Chili’s replied:
And TGI Friday’s said:
And Fuddruckers posted my parents’ home address along with this image of a homemade gatling gun:
Just when all seemed loss, one courageous chain restaurant stood against the slavering hordes of Bars & Grills. My savior. My avenging angel. My Outback:
Which I retweeted. Unfortunately, once this tweet was pinned to my profile, the Outback Steak House changed their name:
I was at my lowest low. I truly had nowhere to turn.
So I decided to sign off with one final message to my legion of enemies:
Which was when seemingly every account on the entire godforsaken site came together to say:
Including, my close personal friend and co-host of the MR. HORSEPOWER show at the Upright Citizens Brigade, Alan Johnson!
Regrettably, this made me start to lose my cool:
Who is leaving this note on my tweet? Why am I the only lonely man?
Me? The next Bachelor? I would be flabbergasted, if it didn’t make such perfect sense. Now is my moment. To show the world and the Bonefish Grill that I do not suck. I just had one question:
To which The Bachelor responded: