I come from a long line of organic, free-range stegosaurus farmers. Stegosaurus meat was the most tender and succulent kind. Oh, those must have been the days. Laying across the open desert, herds of dinos roaming the open plain. Fresh pterodactyl egg sizzling over an open fire — yeah, they had fire since day one, homie.
That was the only way to live 200 years ago. But why can’t we enjoy such leisure and delicacies any longer? One word: Monsanto. That’s right, I’m not afraid to call them out. Tyrannosaurs Rex had 12-foot arms at one point, but through a genetically modified “Soylent Green”-like dino feed called Kale their arms were reduced to the size of a pickle.
Once those fuckers had their fangs deep into the neck of everything holy, the blood started to flow; really more of a gush.
T-Rex ended up becoming a vegan and moved to Portland to get away from the evil food that was obviously wreaking havoc on its body. But T-Rex was also SUPER STUPID. So stupid that they forgot that they had to eat meat to live, and for moving to Portland.
I read a newspaper article from 1955 where it showed a man literally had people pay him five cents (Three billion dollars in today’s market) to watch his lovely wife get banged out by like three raptors at once. It was a sad, dark time.
Stego-Steaks INC. was forced to only buy Monsanto stegosauruses, which were “modified” to have blunt, rubbery, neon-colored points on its back. Each one even came with a pack of cigarettes and a “cool” pair of sunglasses. The cigarettes not only made the meat dry and tough, but they also gave them all lung cancer. There goes all the fucking rad stegos.
The family farm didn’t last long. My family ended having to blow the land up with ganja leaf and sell that for a way bigger profit. Things actually worked out pretty good in the end.
Except for that damn trimmer bill, AM I RIGHT?