The Corned Beef Conspiracy: Ireland Doesn’t Exist And St. Patrick Is The Meaty Equivalent Of Mrs. Butterworth
Just as Hallmark created Valentine’s Day so they could sell cards and De Beers invented the concept of marriage in order to give false value to diamonds, March seventeenth has forever become entwined with this strange salted meat, despite said meat having no basis in traditional Irish cuisine, because there is no such thing as Ireland, and therefore no such thing as traditional Irish cuisine, as we will soon see.
Oh, and also this: Colorado Premium, a company specializing in meat processing solutions, created Ireland and the myth of St. Patrick in order to sell corned beef. It’s not crazy at all. Think real hard. Do you know anyone who’s been to Ireland? Do you know anyone who’s met St. Patrick? Didn’t think so. Let’s have a look.
Colorado Premium happens to be one of the world’s largest producers of corned beef, and they also happen to have a picture of a guy wearing a hard hat on their ‘About Us’ page.
Why in the name of fictional St. Patrick’s sheleighleigh would anyone dealing with meat need a hard hat? Meat, and generally any solutions pertaining to it, involve softness. A hard hat seems like something someone who is anticipating a visit to a construction site would wear. Since construction sites aren’t necessary to meat, that means this whole thing is an Illuminati conspiracy. You see, Colorado Premium is run by Kevin LaFluer. LaFluer is a French name. France touches Germany. The Illuminati was founded in 1776 in………….Germany.
Moving right along: a quick scan of Colorado Premium’s ‘Partners‘ page shows standard industry meat alliances—Tyson Foods, Cargill Meat Solutions, Smithfield Beef Group, etc.—except for one: Tapatio Hot Sauce?
What are Tapatio Hot Sauce and a prolific corned beef producer doing in bed together?
Why, they are both shadowy victual fronts veiling the sinister plot intended to further screw the clueless herd of sheep that is the American people, of course.
In what way? Well the guy in the hard hat is obviously building something, and Tapatio Hot Sauce just isn’t that good. So we have an industrious producer of corned beef partnering with a company that makes inferior salsa picante. That means something. Corned beef. Hot sauce. Hot sauce. Corned beef. Corned sauce. Hot beef. Corned hot beef sauce.
Colorado Premium is taking that salsa picante partnership cash and using it to build a moat filled with disgusting Tapatio Hot Sauce around the United States in order to keep us
from leaving. Why do ‘They’ (Colorado Premium, Tapatio, and the Illuminati) want to keep us in? It’s pretty obvious. If the lie about Ireland is exposed, the corned beef gravy train comes grinding to a halt. Since the Earth is flat, you should be able to look out from the east coast and see the Emerald Isle. One glance and you’ll notice it’s simply not there. ‘St. Patrick’ is just the meaty equivalent of Mrs. Butterworth. Guinness is Michelob Golden tinted with discarded beef drippings.
So there you go. Hallmark, De Beers, Colorado Premium, Taptio, and the Illuminati all want you to keep buying things because they created a way for you to buy them.
Wake up America.
“We cannot ban guns in this country because of a few bad apples. But we can ban an entire religion.” —The actor currently portraying Donald Trump
August 6, 2015—A Republican presidential debate occurs the same night as Jon Stewart’s final Daily Show. Backstage after the debate in Cleveland, Chris Christie, turning his nose up at the provided fruit trays, pulls a hoagie from his pocket. The toppings accidentally spill onto the floor. Christie lures Donald Trump to a dark corner and places him inside the hoagie.
Chris Christie eats a Donald Trump hoagie as the rest of the candidates watch. No one intervenes.
August 7-present—Donald Trump continues his presidential campaign. How is this possible if he was eaten and turned into fecal matter by Chris Christie?
August 6, moments after Chris Christie has licked the last drops of Trump juice from his fingers—Realizing they are all accomplices, the candidates settle on the following plan: they will hire Jon Stewart, who now has free time galore, to play Donald Trump. If there is one thing they all agree on, it is that Trump should be out of the race. Stewart will alienate voters by simply doing and saying things that Donald Trump would say and do, and as his popularity in the polls inevitably declines, he’ll drop out of his candidacy, eventually fading from public memory.
The present—Jon Stewart, in his Trump disguise, is the most popular Republican candidate.
This is just a conspiracy theory. It might not be true.
Have Hanes and the Hormel Foods Corporation been secretly in cahoots with one another? It looks as though the seemingly disparate industries have no plausible reason to cross paths. Well, looks like I prematurely shot my wad and based the whole premise of this article on some brash assumptions that had no basis in actual fact. Sorry to have wasted your time.
Oh wait, there is one point I forgot to make. Let’s take a quick look at both companies.
Hanes: An apparel company well-known for their socks, T-shirts, and undergarments.
Hormel: Producer of SPAM, Dinty Moore, and a variety of other foods, most notably Hormel Chili. I have an extremely hot tip from a trusted culinary insider that the meat used in this chili is just “good enough” to not be made into dog food. Interesting. Low-grade meat is notorious for its blindingly quick layover in the human digestive system. More notorious yet is its even hastier, comically-explosive-bat-out-of-hades escape from that digestive system.
Do you see the link? Why else would the nutritionally bankrupt products of Hormel be kept on shelves, unless they were serving a higher, more sinister purpose than simply gratifying the quivering gullets of the drunk, the poor, and the drunk poor? Picture the stereotypical consumer of a can of Hormel Chili — it’s a grizzled man in a beater and tighty-whities, shoveling that slop into his mouth like an immigrant coal stoker in the boiler room of an early 1900’s cruise ship.
I posit that Hormel is a multi-tiered puppet enterprise of Hanes, who is using the constant onslaught of almost-dog food blemished shirts and soiled underpants to create sales in an impoverished demographic that would under any other conditions hang on to their clothes if they weren’t covered in revolting meat stains and fecal matter.
Before you go out and buy that next pack of private delicates or can of lubricated swill, remember: you are a mere pawn in a high stakes game benefitting an over-paid fat cat who wants you to sit on your couch and sh*t your pants.
Investigation in process: is the upholstery industry a fringe benefactor of the Hormel/Hanes conglomerate?