You thought you could always count on Cookie Monster. Sure, we can't smoke in the grocery store any more, people look at you funny if you have a couple of Crown Royal rocks at lunch, and now I have to bring my own tote bag to the grocery store like an NPR listener with a little grey ponytail. Fine, whatever. At least Cookie Monster was still out there. He was all FUCK YOUR RULES, I EAT COOKIES, THAT'S WHAT I DO, TAKE YOUR SALAD AND YOUR SOY MOCHA AND SHOVE IT UP YOUR ASS.
Then they got to him too. Because you know what? Now "cookie is a sometimes food." Oh, fuck, CM, I am so sorry. You were the rebel, the danegrous one, and now you're putting on your New Spirit cross-trainers and doing yoga and having a smoothie. This sucks. I prefer to remember you as you were:
Cookie was good enough for all of us, Cookie Monster. For all of us.
Don't stare at Oscar the Grouch if he's looking a little placid and glassy-eyed. It's the klonopin.
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4 comments:
Few years back they started making him eat carrots and shit. It actually made me hurt a little bit.
Oh, man, my most embarrassing drunken escapade ever involved Goldschlager. So shiny. So sweet.
But for the love of god please avoid associating that trauma with my favorite childhood puppet. Nom nom nom.
I've forever associated Cookie Monster with Avenue Q's Trekkie Monster. The Internet Is For Porn = pure id.
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