Alright, fuckers, listen up. Uncle Ben here, and I am sick of your stupid goddamn bullshit. Word on the street is that you’re not buying my rice the way you used to. Well, fuck you. For years I played the nice old man, the friendly southern gentleman who brought you delicious long grains. You liked me, I liked you, you bought rice, I made scratch, everything was just fan-fucking-tastic. But apparently that’s not good enough for you whiny little bitches anymore, so I guess it’s time for some real talk.
Let me just straight up ask what the matter with you dickbags is. Huh? You don’t have time for my rice anymore because you’re too busy stuffing your fat fucking faces with fast food? You want to have a fucking heart attack before you turn 40? My rice has got nutrients, or some shit like that. You dumb cunts won’t get any of that crap in your McDonald’s burgers. What are you, retarded?
Or maybe you’re just bored of my rice. Is that it? Well boo-fucking-hoo. I’m bored of Aunt Jemima, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to stop screwing her brains out. Listen to me, you stupid bastards—rice has been a staple of civilisation for thousands of fucking years. Empires have risen and fallen on this shit. You don’t get to just come along and say you’re done with it. What kind of arrogant pricks do you think you are? Fuck you.
And don’t even fucking suggest that you’re buying another brand. I know you dipshits are so fucking dumb that you’ll fall for anything a commercial says, but if I find out you fuckers are buying Rice-A-Roni behind my back I’m going to come to your house and beat you to death with my big black cock. Go ahead, lock your doors. I’ll fuck them off their goddamn hinges with my hate boner.
And nobody better fucking tell me that I’m not keeping in touch with the modern consumer. Why do you think I made those stupid as shit “ready before you are” commercials, with bitches bouncing around in their fucking bras? I sell rice, I’m not a goddamn pornographer. But I knew you fucking Neanderthals can’t focus on anything that doesn’t have a nice pair of titties, so I stopped with the wholesome family ads and gave you fucking softcore porn. And what do I get as thanks from you perverts? Nothing. Fucking nothing. “Thanks for the free boners, we’ll stick them in our Chef Boyardee!” Well fuck Chef Boyardee, and fuck you, too.
I’ve had it up to here with you cocksuckers. But Uncle Ben’s got bills to pay, so I’m going to throw you a bone you pieces of shit don’t deserve. It is my tremendous fucking pleasure to announce a brand new product featuring every idiotic feature you moronic douchebags could possibly want. You want fast? Every bag of Uncle Ben’s Insta-Rice for Assholes comes with a stick of thermite that will cook your rice quicker than you can disappoint your lover. That’s for you lazy fucks who think food made with a microwave is haute fucking cuisine. You want modern taste? There’s so much butter and salt in Insta-Rice for Assholes I’m not even legally allowed to call it rice. But I’m going to anyway, because what the fuck’s the government going to do about it? I’m Uncle Fucking Ben.
You want an easy meal plan? A bag of Insta-Rice will feed a family of four for a fucking week. That’s about three days for you, you fat fuck. You want tacky advertising? Every bag includes a collectable “Ladies of the Rice” card that will keep you warm through the lonely nights you’ll spend shovelling this shit down your big fucking food hole. Jesus, you people make me sick. But fuck it, my dick’s hard just thinking about how much of this crap you’re going to buy.
So there you go. Uncle Ben’s back, bitches, and you better pick up what he’s putting down. Because if I hear from my accountants that you assholes are disappointing me again, I ain’t going to play nice no more. I am a goddamn American icon, and I will burn your fucking homes to the ground and salt the fucking Earth beneath them before I let you dipshits stop buying my rice. Now get your fat asses to the grocery store. Tell ‘em Ben sent you. They’ll know what to do.