Preheat oven to the temperature of Will Smith’s Twitter feed right now. For those of you reading this from the future… First, how fucked is everybody? and second, Will Smith was an American actor whose career peaked when he slapped a comedian in the face in front of literally the whole world. It was kinda nuts. Also, stop cooking your future bullshit and make my recipes.

Dust the cinnamon over the nuclear carp paste liberally — but evenly. There is nothing quite like the taste of uneven cinnamon sprinkled on irradiated fish paste. Oh wait, I just reminded myself about Fukushima. Now I’m fucking depressed. Well done.

When the radishes have successfully radished, remove them from the radisher. You’ll know if they radished for long enough if they’re emitting a slightly radishy aroma, but not too radishy. It’s hard to explain. It would be like if your pumpkin were getting too pumpkiny, so you had to take them out of the pumpkiner, if that makes sense.

Count backwards from 98,401 and then ka-pow! That shit is done with! Time for this other shit now.

Begin other shit, confident that the shit from before is for real done.

When the oven is hot like a goddamned motherfucker, insert tarragon bundles, dragon fruit, and 2 foot brick of D batteries. Immediately turn oven down to oops I just put a bunch of D batteries in my oven and slow roast until you wake up in a hospital bed.

Now it the time to make your wolf meringue. It’s a simple process, don’t be scared! Simply whisk 2 – 4 adult wolves in a large pyrex bowl until they are uniformly fluffy, light, and meringue. That last part is key. They have to end up as meringue or else you didn’t make wolf meringue at all. You made 2 – 4 slightly confused wolves murder you.

When the oven dings, scream THANK FUCKING GOD FOR DINGING OR ELSE WE WOULDN’T KNOW WHEN FOOD WAS READY into your neighbor’s face. If your neighbor isn’t in your kitchen at the moment, do it next time they are. They’ll get a chuckle out of it.

I got to 9 steps??? You should definitely stop reading this.

Preheat oven to the temperature of snuggling into Henry Cavill’s chin dimple and then falling asleep purring

De-orange all of that shit. Start with THAT.

Puree grapes until they are pureed. If you have to set a timer, set it to alert you at a specific time. (You never want to over-puree grapes. If you have to ask why, you’re being an asshole.)

In a separate Meg Ryan’s mouth, blend dill raisins, and gently fold in granitecake until Meg Ryan is done with you doing that.

Scoop all of that into a 9 × 10⁴⁷ oz pyrex bowl, and bake at Henry Cavill’s whatever I wrote for 30 minutes.

While baking, do not rub nipples. That’s not really appropriate behavior in the kitchen. Go to the library and rub your nipples. Not a room in your house you call the library because all of your 15 books you own are in there, the public library. Walk in, and breathe heavily into the librarian’s face, and rasp at them, “Where is a good spot for me to rub my nipples? You know, somewhere kinda private so I don’t freak anyone out.”

Postheat oven to the temperature of Henry Cavill will die never knowing your name. Remove whatever it was I told you to make, Pus Muffins? I don’t know what the hell my brain is doing ever.

Preheat oven to impossible

In a separate bowl, place Ayn Rand’s ashes, and gently fold in out-of-touch white hypocrisy until Rand is objectively deader than fuck.

While the rotisserie chicken is spitting hot juices all over the inside of the oven, dice dove hearts

Pour package of Betty Crocker No-Bake Butterscotch and Chipotle Cookie Mix into a 90,000,000,000,000,000 oz Pyrex bowl. Remove all butterscotch chips and set aside for later use.

It’s later now, so shove those butterscotch chips all the way up your ass. Every last butterscotch. Up your ass.

Shake small vial of clown vapor vigorously for 20 hours.

After oven has successfully… you know… hotted… put all that stuff in there and bake at hot for length of time. Don’t set a timer unless you’re a chickenshit bitchface, and then I guess set two?

When your flaccid, ineffectual, self-second-guessing timer(s) ding, get that shit out of there! It’s hot, you idiot.

Preheat oven to Mayim Bialik’s daydream of a good man.

Open hi-hat, gently insert shark brains.

In a separate shark brains, whisk cat juice until the tines of the whisk sing in broken Welsh.

When the oven is pre-heated, toss gently into the heart of the sun.

Combine Squidward’s surly attitude, boiling rage at neural network thinking it understands funny, and scrambled monkeys in a microwave-is-gonna-do-what-microwave-is-gonna-do bowl and stir until stirred.

When oven is in sun’s heart, preheat again to the temperature of a Mayim Bialik fever dream of the time she lost her car keys at Sea World.

Set pentathlon aside to de-athlon.

Remember the Maine, but forget the reason why you’re remembering it because what are you a 19th century textbook?

After the chocolate mixture has cooled, ladle it in even scoops onto a pre-greased (I recommend Pennzoil) baking sheet, and set aside to quartz. (Helpful hint: quartzing chocolate on a baking sheet lined with Pennzoil is a difficult task for beginner chefs, so don’t be disheartened if yours tastes like chocolate mixed with motor oil. You’ll get better with time.)

Remove the dish from oven, and while still boiling hot, mush your face into it, but — and this is key — try to act surprised at the searing pain of your face igniting in a culinary inferno. The surprise awakens certain flavors, namely cinnamon and AHHHHH GODDAMMIT!!!!

Preheat oven to ‘Randy Quaid’ sex tape

In a separate bowl, mince Vespertine tinkles until the lyrical content begins to make you feel… uncomfortable

In an unrelated Björk, gently fold in powdered Chernobyl ’elephant foot.’ Be very careful not to over fold due to maximum possible radiation content. Wear goggles!

Spin counterclockwise at 18,000 rpm for 45 minutes (or until uncontrollably projectile vomiting) and then immediately try to run in a straight line

Remove the goose from the oven and baste with repeated throat punches

When the over has reached Randy Quaid hotness (or approximately -20,000 K), stir mixture until it thickens to the same viscosity of the center of a neutron star, but no thicker!

Milk iguanas until they fall asleep purring

Mold a papier-mâché bust of Copernicus but make him frowning angrily as though he is late for an important meeting and someone fed his car keys to a goat.

In a separate hollowed-out human cadaver, whisk hibiscus flowers until they “bloom.” (In culinary speak, when flowers are whisked for baking preparation, they take on a very light, wispy shape that chefs call “blooming.” The texture is not unlike octopus ejaculate.)

When all ingredients have—whoops recipe done, my doctor just walked in.

Preheat oven to room temperature

In a separate bowl, unsnap pelican beaks. Be sure to discard any still-attached pelicans.

When the morning sun casts a glimmering light on the promise of a new day, whisk a bowl of kittens until no longer purring. You don’t want to over-whisk, as this can lead to a bowl full of very confused kittens.

Gently knead snake meat until hard as a rock, and then immediately stop kneading snake meat because that wasn’t what you were trying to do.

When the Adirondacks have successfully mountained, gently spoon into a 9000 oz Pyrex bowl. (If the kids ask to lick the spoon, shriek out in sudden terror because where did these kids come from??)

During the Bronze Age, lightly fold kittens.

When the oven has dinged, it’s time to do a little dance for the planet Saturn. (This is where those 47 rails of tungsten come in handy!)

Set aside to cool for 2 months and 8 days. Be weary of hungry neighbors smelling this cooling on your windowsill. Sometimes hungry neighbors are also murderers.

Preheat oven to the emotional cocktail of sadness and relief when you skip all your high school reunions.

In a separate bowl, mix wisdom-originated aloofness and quiet yearning to self immolate while in line at the bank.

Stir everything until homogenous as all fuck.

Bake for 80-90 years until CHF or dementia (or both) have forced your adult children to handle all your toileting. (If you’re doing it right, you will feel a mixture of shame and uncontrollable primal humor.)

While baking, it is fine to pass the time on activities such as jobs, school, and pornography, but be aware that there is no meaning in any activities except birth, survival, procreation, and death. (Achieving things is fine, so long as you remember that doing so is pointless!)

Die.

Be remembered for a few years, and then shortly afterwards be forgotten forever. When the last person thinks about you for the last time, your memory will dissolve into a bottomless ocean of time, as the universe dissipates into thermodynamic equilibrium.

Preheat oven to Jesus fucking CHRIST already!!!!!! I mean FUUUUCK! Get it together, man!!

In a separate Laura Dern’s glove compartment at 3:00 a.m., place finely chopped mushrooms in a houndstooth pattern. Don’t forget to seal the glove compartment and then repeatedly honk the horn while yelling, “Enjoy the fucking mushrooms, Laura Dern!!! You fuck!!!

Set aside fart meringue for 15 minutes to dehisce.

After the yeast mixture has bloomed, take a second to remember that one Fiona Apple album title that was 9,000 words. What in the fuck was that all about??

Once the aluminum pellets have heated to room temperature, remove them from the I left off here days ago and don’t remember what I was going to say, so Teddy Ruxpin’s ass?

After all this shit is done doing what the fuck it’s gonna do, stop and ask yourself why you are still reading this recipe? I mean, I have to type this stuff or it’ll fester in my brain and burn holes in my psyche, but you don’t have to be doing any of this. Go outside and pet a flower or whatever outdoorsy types do.

Set aside entire mixture to cool. As it settles into a congealed brick, relax into a deep sense of accomplishment. You goddamned did it.

Locate the little man in boat and scold him for hiding all the time. What is his deal???

Preheat oven to Marmaduke’s ass

In a separate bowl, place tie thingies and everything marachino, mixing briskly. (Set aside air that was in the bowl for later use.)

While the oven is preheating, Google Marmaduke. Feel a pang of disgust at realizing I was writing about a dog’s butt. It is something I do often. Know this. Count on it.

Scramble Larrys until Larrys are evenly distributed in the thing you were scrambling them in. A beaver den?

Unscrew chin from face and place in a Pyrex bowl (size of Pyrex bowl is unimportant, so long as it’s at least 140,000,000 oz). Notice the large, flashing, red button under the spot on your head that your unscrewed chin was covering. Press it. What’s the worst that can happen?

Stand chinless in your kitchen and ponder the intricacies of modern cuisine. Give a slight, but knowing chuckle. Notice that without a chin, the chuckle sounds like, “Aaa aaa aaaaaaa.”

When the oven is done doing whatever it’s been programmed to do, point at it and scream: “FUCK YOUR FREE WILL, OVEN!!! You are nothing!!!”

Rake up all that shit, you idiot.

Preheat oven to 900,000,000,000 Kelvin.

On a wooden cutting board, dice the WD-40.

Preheat oven to There-Is-No-God

Prepare tacos in a pewter bedpan, making sure to grind the cornmeal until the atoms deteriorate and neutrinos fly at your face at the speed of light. Pause and ask yourself, “Why am I making tacos?”

In another oven, place oven.

In a tuba, mix 40 lbs plutonium and ghost secrets. (Set aside extra 10 lbs plutonium for garnish.) Stir with bare hands, as sparks from metal utensils may ignite the tuba’s brass shell, instantly melting everything within a 10 mile radius

Find a group of school children (preferably happy), walk up to them and yank your own head off. Do your best to lob your own decapitated head at them. Extra points if you can make your head cackle like a cartoon witch.

Preheat oven to NOOOOOOOOO° F (YEEEEEEESSS° C). Soon as you hear ghost secrets bubbling forth from the tuba-plutonium mixture (I murdered a guy once… I never got to go to Paris…, etc), pour all ingredients into a 20 gallon pyrex baking dish, and turn oven down to nooo° F (yeess° C)

When slüüüüüünk has successfully narfed, set aside in wooden bowl. Use a wooden bowl to avoid over-narfing, as over-narfing can lead to ppfffarrrnnnarrrnarrr, which, of course, is toxic

Stare at your reflection in a head of lettuce you have buffed into a makeshift mirror. Notice the daily withering of your once supple young flesh, and quietly grieve by eating an entire box of Ho Ho’s, for you are truly suffering.

When oven dings, say to yourself, “WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT??”

Preheat oven to Are we doing this again?

Carefully, CAREFULLY separate puppies into two bowls labeled “cuddlin’ puppies” and “eatin’ puppies.” When all puppies are separated into bowls, brutally and repeatedly punch the bowl marked “cuddlin’ puppies” because your dad didn’t love you. How could he? Look at how you treat puppies.

In a pre-designated chamber of magma, sprinkle chipotle celery, but be on the lookout for any errant bad stalks and pieces. You can tell that celery has gone bad because it has turned into a gray paste with a very unpleasant taste that can make you vomit for 72 hours straight if you mistakenly eat four large bowls of it the other day.

When oven is preheated to Jesus… Fuuck… Ok, let’s do this again I guess??, place award show addled Winona Ryder near it, and tell her the oven is a robotic vulture sent from the future to peck out her eyes. See if that closes them a little so she doesn’t look so wigged out. Say it genially to her, not threateningly. She’ll get it.

Open 92 umbrellas of varying colors and sizes upside down and scoop Oinklahoma into them — BUT do it nice. ……………………….. Nice, you fuck.

When your throat pouch has turned iridescent, it’s time to find a mate! (If you can’t find a mate, try being someone else.) Once you find your potential mate, be sure to wow him or her with a bawdy display of shitting yourself again and again while screaming at the top of your lungs, and lunging at them very, very violently.

Preheat oven to WOW!!… Wow. Just…. wow.

Puree spaniel meat

In a separate bowl, dice braille script until it’s a totally different script, like maybe the script from Arrival. Remember Arrival? Oof. What a snooze fest. Oh, time is circular? So is my asshole.

Set aside personal emotional indifference to further chill

Unpack tentacles from oblong box and allow 30 minutes to figure out why you have a box of tentacles

Roll eyes back into own head until you can see your medulla oblongata. Say to it, “Hi Dooley!”

Be sure not to read this recipe at all. AT ALL.

When the oven dings, there may be a good reason for that. Find out why.

Preheat oven to the temperature of kitten nightmares

In a bowl shaped like Rhode Island, gently mash the prunes until they reach the consistency of you realizing the prunes are actually baby koala kidneys. Say to yourself, “Wait, what?” and aside prune / kidneys to spelch.

While the prunes / baby koala kidneys are spelching, whisk secretary bird face in a mixing bowl at 900,000 rpm — or until you have successfully whisked through the bowl and 1/4 through the Earth’s mantle. (If the kids ask if they can lick the bowl, tell them it’s ok because 85,000° C isn’t really all that hot, and secretary bird face tastes like ass below 60,000° C anyway. For safety: use a non-flammable wooden spoon and someone else’s child.)

After oven is pre-heated, place all wet ingredients in a microwave-safe bowl. Say to yourself, quietly, “Why is this stuff wet, again??” but then let the thought pass quickly from your mind. Place microwave-safe bowl into larger, microwave-will-fuck-this-up-bowl, and rotate both bowls until they click deep in your soul in that place where love might exist if you weren’t a horrible piece of shit.

Stir brine babies, oink flakes, and Lincoln, Nebraska in an oblong tube while muttering about rent control. What they don’t tell you about oink flakes is, “Mmmmaaarrrrfffffadale,” so don’t be surprised if you use too little or too much. Both can happen unless you know where in the fuck you are buying your oink flakes.

When finally west of the Pyrenees, fluff bacon until reasonably fluffed, and then fold in the wet mixture until you know that shit is fluffed and mixed as fuck. Say the words ‘wet mixture’ in your head again and again and again until all vestiges of your childhood innocence have evaporated from your soul, and you are just a damp, unsatisfying husk of a person, sitting there, taking up space, afraid to die.

Preheat oven to Flowers of Agamemnon or whatever that book is called

Rotate shoulder blades counter-clockwise until they snap off like Mr. Potato head parts. Notice the instant, searing pain that is so bad you go temporarily blind – all the while wondering how can something be “clockwise” if clocks are digital. Realize you’re soft, and if society collapsed, you’d be dead inside of 30 minutes. (Don’t forget to cauterize those arm holes shut! How are you going to hold a blow torch? Whoops! Shoulda thought of that!)

In a separate bowl, combine Led Zeppelin II 8-track and own face. Stir vigorously until your sinuses are packed with shards of plastic, bleeding, and every time you breathe in people can hear Ramble On. (If you did it right, it should sound like this: “Guys… I think I–” [in the darkest depths of Mordor] “should maybe get to–” [But Gollum, and the evil one crept up and] “a hospital.” [Ramble on!])

In a separate bowl, place D batteries, quinoa flour, that other thing, and sweaty dog anuses. Look at the bowl of ingredients, and say, “No. NO. NOOOOOOOO. NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!”

Call out to the heavens until the preternatural soul of Elon Musk’s child, ZZZzaaaaapp! (or whatever) bubbles forth, spilling onto the counter, and boiling onto the floor in a thick puddle of weird baby.

Postheat oven.

Preheat oven to microwave

In a separate slalom run, ski so fast that your eyeballs freeze open.

Whisk the buttermilk.

When the buttermilk is whisked, whisk the whisk, being careful not to over-whisk, as only total fuckheads over-whisk.

When the oven is preheated, consume the nutmeg and regular meg in an antigravity chamber.

Close your eyes and remember a funny story from your past. Emit a warm chuckle from your pointless face, and say quietly to yourself, “I should really write these stories down. It might make a good screenplay.”

Mince oven to no.

Purée the extra special meg, but NOT TOO FUCKING MUCH.

When oven is reasonably minced, set aside to cool.

In a 90 quart, rose-toned Pyrex bowl, combine septagons and unigons. Toss liberally, while confronting your deepest anxieties head-on like it’s your last day on earth. Threaten to take everybody in the room to Hell with you.

Put on a silk cape, and set septagon/unigon mixture aside to brominate for 12 seconds.

In a separate 90 quart, rose-toned Pyrex bowl, pour bisque, making sure to retain bisque’s cooking temperature at an even 900° F (900° C) throughout this crucial pouring step. (If the temperature of the bisque fluctuates even as much as a tenth of a degree either way, you have fucked yourself hard. In your shit pocket.)

Mix both bowlfuls of ingredients in a pine coffin, and bake at 50° F (oink C) for 70 years, stirring often. If the septagons try to boil over, don’t worry. They’re not really there. You’re tripping balls because you mistook liquid LSD for random bisque, and then you spilled it allllll over yourself. You know what? You probably won’t live through the night. Then again, when you space thermometer around it, artichoke unless Pine-Sol modern thirty house AIDS wicker pancake.

Now that you’re finally sober again, turn oven down to 30° F (🤡 C) and gently insert an ice pick into each nipple hole until screaming in agony. (I like to use Kellogg’s Ice Picks because I care about what I put into my own nipples, but really any brand of ice picks will do in a pinch.) Turn oven to off°. Ladle this shit into a human-sized bowl and pour it into your face. Tell everyone around you, “Mmmmmmm. Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmm. Mmmmm mmmmm. Mmmmmmmmmmmmm. Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm!!!” while making direct eye contact.

Prepare France in a microwave safe bowl, preferably a 418oz Pyrex bowl, but any can be used so long as they are at least 416oz in volume and made of Pyrex.

Preheat oven to however hot it would have to be to cook France.

In a separate container from any I’ve mentioned before, place radishes, careful not to mix them with the hungry ghosts that are all around us. Queefus Christ! They’re so sad!

In a separater bowl, toss radishes. Have the funny realization to yourself, “Why isn’t the phrase ‘toss radishes’ a sex euphemism?” Promise to yourself that you’ll be the one to get that phrase going, as soon as you’re done cooking whatever the fuck this is.

When the oven is preheated, carefully place France inside, being extra cautious not to let it “fall” like a delicate cake or like France did in countless wars. If France “falls,” discard and use Canada. (Pro tip: Baking Canada can be tricky, as Canada technically has two official languages. Go ahead and bake that fucker in English and French. That way, your bases are covered. Better to need it and not need it than have it when you need it. Make sense?)

When this is all prepared, allow it to cool for 3 seconds. Then, brush your teeth with the antimatter. Shortly before all your molecules explode at the speed of light, note that you died alone. Probably because who could love you?

Remove Chambered Nautilus Pops from freezer and stick directly into your children’s faces, being extra vigilant not to warn them beforehand.

Surgically remove your own thyroid and implant 1/2 a ship anchor in the gaping wound.

Scroll up and look at that gif of me. Ask yourself, “What the fucking hell is wrong with that dude?” Scroll back down, and read the following two sentences: Suck my dick, amigo. It’s even more fucked up actually being me.

Preheat tungsten to hot.

Remove tungsten from hot, and set aside to cool beneath a continual spray of Febreze Heavy Duty Pet Odor Eliminator.

Feel nostalgic for a time when you weren’t reading this.

open the package of Henry Cavill’s penis, and shiver involuntarily. Allow the sweet, forbidden aroma to dominate the kitchen the way a hungry wolf dominates a tiny bunny. Are you scared, little bunny? Awwwww…. your little heart is beating so fast!

Notice that there is a small thread in your mouth, and tug on it until you have unraveled your head and torso into a Radio Flyer wagon

In a separate Radio Flyer wagon, mix Spotlight, foxglove, foxpants, and one onion. Set aside to go “DAAAAMMMMNNNNN” a bunch of times

Preheat oven to 90,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000 Kelvin. (Be sure to set a timer on the stove so you know when the oven is preheated, as sometimes preheating an oven to 90 octillion Kelvin can take 75,000 years. My grandma used to work on a small project while waiting for her oven to preheat, such as reading a book or repeatedly writing hate mail to 1970’s actor, Ned Beatty.)

When your oven is finally preheated, it’s time to place your ginger balls into a nest of baby copperhead snakes! (Fun fact: When baby copperhead snakes bite down on your balls, they DO NOT let go! You literally have to snap their little heads off, but by that time, they’ve emptied their teensy venom sacs into your testicles, and your balls have denatured into a sorta nut soup sloshing around in your ball bag like spaghetti spilled in a plastic grocery sack, and you’re screaming and screaming because of the searing pain, and then you die, and your spirit floats out of your body, out of your home, across the countryside, and accidentally into a jet turbine.)

Insert IUD deep into nasal cavity so that your new boyfriend with the “sexy” tattoo sleeves can come up your nose without you worrying about sinus babies

Mop

Rotate your shoulders counter-clockwise until they are facing Mecca (or any large, urban center)

Preheat oven to 90,000 Kelvin

In an 82oz pyrex mixing bowl, dump oysters, the Bhagavad Gita reprint, and 1/2 of the hominy. Have the sudden realization that the oysters aren’t shucked, and then pick them out of the bowl and shuck them, being careful not to inhale any of the hominy, which is deadly poison

When the oven is preheated, shave a soul patch into your taint

In a separate 82oz pyrex mixing bowl, blend the powdered mule and dimes into a merengue and refrigerate for 6-8 weeks or until Björk comes to you in a dream and tells you that you look good in cowboy boots

Last step: Enjoy! Oops! Don’t forget to wrap all this shit in a graham cracker and roast it on the end of a coat hanger or stick.

In a non-stick submarine, dice bay leaf, remaining careful not to dice it into more than two parts

Melt the entire thing of unsalted butter in the accretion disc of a non-stick black hole, and then add 60 pounds of iodized salt (you can use un-iodized salt – more commonly known as intense gamma ray bursts straight to your face – but if you don’t get iodine in your diet, your patellas will explode, and then you’ll need to get replacement patellas, and if you haven’t shopped for replacement patellas recently, trust me, you will shit a wolf when you see how expensive patellas have gotten. I mean, it’s fucking stupid out there.

Preheat oven to that warm feeling you get when you wake up in a pile of 19-year old men

Inject pelican blood into your genitals, and shortly afterwards, say to yourself, “Oooooo… there it is.”

Unspool half of Tom Clancy’s ‘The Sum of All Fears’ into a microwave safe bowl (8oz – 6800oz size) and set aside to further “Clancy” for at least 2 six months (helpful hint: You will know when it is done “Clancying” when your late-middle-aged father puts on a pair of aviator sunglasses and/or starts using the word POTUS in conversation)

Once oven is preheated, preheat five more ovens

Wade into a nearby apartment pond and demand to be taken seriously; point at people who are videoing you with their phones and say, “This guy knows what I’m talking about!”

Rotate Pope

Finally, jam fat cock into your safe space

Preheat oven to whatever temperature you want — except 350° Don’t be an asshole.

Place a copy of A Separate Peace by John Knowles on a clean, dry surface, and begin to knead. Knead thoroughly and evenly until you realize nobody is actually named Phineas. If you suddenly get the feeling that the narrator is a sociopathic murderer enshrouded in white privilege, you have kneaded for too long.

Crack the snake eggs into a 750 gallon Pyrex dish, and whisk with a belt sander. Set aside.

Think about what you’ve done. What did you do?? Grasp your head in your hands in abject despair.

When the oatmeal cookies have cooled, say to yourself, “Where the fuck did those come from?” Pray to live a life of purpose. Or pray to visit Cheyenne, Wyoming. Whichever. Either is just as ludicrous.

Back up and realize all religions are equal impediments to the future well-being of humanity, and then shhhhhh……. It’s going to be ok. People are allowed to have opinions, even if they don’t line up perfectly with your own.

When the snake eggs have fully snake egged, pour into a food processor and set to “process.”

Rub saffroff and waxon into right whale baleen (If Walmart doesn’t sell right whale baleen in your town, it’s ok to substitute with center right whale baleen, but be advised you will be able to taste the difference in party fidelity.)

Cook the fucking shit out of everything.