I almost feel badly for continuing to pick on Chipotle. The company has been supernaturally inept this year. They can do nothing right. They may not even be able to make gravity work anymore.
Yet, they are so smug, and transparently phony that it is difficult to refrain from kicking them when they are down, as in "keep down"—something their patrons are having trouble doing with their lunch.

It is ironic that most of their problems began when they hopped on the phony anti-GMO express. I guess it seemed like a good corporate maneuver at the time, but I think they picked the wrong train:

The fine gentlemen who run Quebec-based Valeant Pharmaceuticals are probably thanking some deity or other for Martin Shkreli, the vile little creep who is the founder and CEO of Turing Pharmaceuticals. 
In case you do not have a "vile little creep" Google News alert, Shkreli won the hearts of millions of Americans when he paid $55 million to Impax—the sole maker of Daraprim, a niche drug for treating toxoplasmosis—and raised the price of the 60-year old drug by 55-times. Because... he could. 

Where is Mel Brooks when you need him?

Ever since Chipotle's self-righteous claim (which isn't even true) that the company was removing GM ingredients from its food because "it doesn't align with [the company's] position," just about everything conceivable went wrong.  It's now a bit of a novelty to find a news day when they haven't poisoned someone.

Doods—chill.

You just ate a bunch of poisonous stuff. Some of it was especially nasty, and I don't mean the cooking, rather, the chemicals in the food. Chances are that you are fine. 

So am I, with the exception of sitting (mostly still) for two hours in a car with my mother (wonderful woman and I love her to death, but good lord, can she talk!) on the Long Island Expressway (LIE)—a misnomer if ever there were one—to attend Thanksgiving dinner. 

The day was not lacking in stress. This is me channeling Lloyd Bridges: 

Betcha that got your attention. I hope so.

Because, even though the title may sound like the essence of juvenile stupidity, if you read this—if only to see what the hell I'm talking about—it could save your life. And, no— I'm NOT kidding about this.

I'm talking about colonoscopies—one of the most feared words in the English language. 

The reality is that something that is so feared is actually rather enjoyable. Nope—I'm not kidding. And I know what I'm talking about. I've had enough of these done that I'm considering adding it to my CV under "hobbies." 

One just has to be able to accept certain scientific liberties to be a fan (addict?) of The Walking Dead. It is well worth it, since it's the most entertaining hour on television.

For example, I always wondered why the characters are routinely covered with zombie blood, guts, and other slime, all of which routinely runs down into their mouths, *and* into open wounds, yet they never catch the virus that started the apocalypse. One character even stuck his hand in the mouth of one of the things that was trying to bite him, and ripped its head off. *That* was OK, yet, if he had sustained a nibble on a cuticle during this attempt, he would have caught it turned into one of them.