Cake Baking is a dying art. Let's all bemoan cake-making. Let us beat our heads and wail that the last of the grand cake-baking generation are getting too old, broken and lazy to keep feeding us delicious treats.

I will bemoan no longer; it is Easter. Let cake-baking be ressurected!

First of all, let me say that I now know why cake-baking is a dying art. That's because cake baking involves spending hours in a fucking kitchen, steadily covering everything you own in sweetened grease. At the end of it all, you pull a hot little abortion out of the inferno and when everyone puts it in their mouths, they don't say;

"Oh my GOD I can't see any more and I don't care because my new favourite sense is taste now I have tasted this super-ace cake."

Instead, they say;

"It's very sweet."

Is that anything to say to a man who has been up to his wrists in flour and placentae for the last hour? No; when judging the cakes of a man who has clearly drunk two bottles of red wine, you should gush.

To that end, here is the Top Five Compliments To Pay A Fat Drunken Gay Who Is Feeding You Cake.

Like George Clooney, this cake wears Police sunglasses.
What's that beautiful singing? Oh, it's this cake, in my mouth.
The only thing better than this cake is a conceptual infinity populated entirely by this cake and my tongue.
They should create a third human gender for this cake, so everyone can fuck it.
CAKE HOT LIKE BOOTY.

Just so's you know.

Posted by log at April 13, 2004 04:30 PM