Cheez Whiz. Excuse me what?

Unlike other children in my Ultimate Fighting weight division, I never grew up on the teat of the Cheez Whiz.

Other kids would frequently bring their yellow-smeared vegetable sticks, sandwiches, and crackers for lunch and give me desperate looks when it came to trading time. “Sorry old chaps, this kid would be happier with his own lunch, thankyouverymuch!” (Yeah, I said it just like that because I wanted to be an elderly British man, okay? It was a phase I was going through. Wasn’t long after that I wanted to become an old Chinese lady too, that’s how I developed my “wise but disapproving ” face that I use whenever someone someone wants to do something stupid like go golfing in the middle of the night or put sticky-notes featuring a sketch of a penis on the back of our boss or something.)

Even at a young age, I was able to discern between what I should be sticking down my throat and what was clearly inedible and should be given some sort of government classification like, “Warning: Nutritional value for this product on par with eating radioactive slug excrement”.

Don’t get me wrong, the lady that birthed me would occasionally purchase a bottle of the vile orange vomit to eat herself, but even then it generally eventually wound its way to the back of the fridge -unopened, expire, grow mold, and try to crawl out of the fridge on its own and kill us while we slept and dreamed of hunting tarantula men with a bow. So it’s not like in my life I’ve never tried Cheez Whiz as if I were some sort of elite and repulsive Food Network critic, but Jesus Christ, what the fuck IS that shit?

Seriously, what is it? I just looked at the Wikipedia entry for Cheez Whiz and was only left more repulsed. Its least-horrific ingredient appears to be ‘processed cheese’, which I’m not sure if you knew or not, was created by the Germans in 1941 to poison the French into submission, which was a sure-bet given the French’s propensity to consume stupid shit like snails and frog legs. Okay, I lied about this part.

A ‘processed spread’ containing ‘processed cheese’ is like some sort of double evil entity worthy of being exploded on a remote island in the pacific to see what sort of toxic effects it has on an ecosystem. I mean hell, to start with, processed cheese itself is an abomination of epic proportion – let us not forget its origins of being the random shit they sweep up at a cheese factory when it’s not visibly contaminated with rat shit (look it up). Then they mix it with more Xanthan gum, candle wax, pig vomit, and orange food coloring, repackage it into bottles that look like they should be holding embryos at a research facility, then it ends up in your fridge. No wonder they can’t even spell it ‘Cheese Whiz’, they’ve probably been forced at some point by government to change the name in order to not mislead people into thinking they’re getting some sort of nutritional value.

Probably the most disgusting thing since Elvis Presley or edible underwear.

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Speaking of processed cheese, America, you and I really need to sit down and have a talk about this association you have with ‘American cheese’. See, most nations are associated with shit they’re proud of, like “French Wine”, we have “Canadian Bacon”, “Polish Sausage”, “Mexican Tequila”, or “Australian Koala Toes”. (I made the last one up, but I’d expect them to be tasty with the right sauce.)

YOU though, awesome America, have unfortunately been associated with the dredges of milk byproducts, ‘American cheese’. ‘American cheese’ was a product of the US government’s Commodity Credit Corporation in 1982, as a way of simultaneously dealing with milk overstock and pacifying welfare folks with something they could use to slap on their burgers and not feel so welfare-y.

Now it’s been twisted into some sort of desirable topping on hamburgers or tacos, hell, even foo-foo kitchens keep blocks of this shit on their shelf somewhere since it never goes bad and advertise it on their fancy-pants menus – “Oh look, how quaint, Reginald, American Cheese on our foie gras! Let us!”

There are far more awesome things that could be associated with the word ‘America’, like chicken-fried steaks. Or cornbread. Or cheesecake. Or hell, liver is even better. Please make it so that when I travel to some sort of exotic international destination like Sioux Falls, South Dakota, and choose to have a Whopper, it comes with something that remotely resembles cheese instead of the tasteless processed crap that has become known as “American cheese”. It’s not worthy of the title, considering your awesome-but-not-quite-as-awesome-as-Norway (according to recent polls conducted in my memory) nation.

Thanks America, I’m glad we could have this little chat. Can we speak later about your aversion to free healthcare? It’s the other retarded thing with your sexy country that we need to talk about, then you can brag all you want again. Shhh though, I’m liable to be shot by some sort of medicare operative for telling you things you’re not supposed to know. Shhh.