In Chattanooga, officials found a way to save public funds by having a private company fill the potholes in city streets. All they had to do was let the company paint “Refurbished by KFC” across the newly paved roads.
Not such a bad deal.
So I’ve got a proposal for KFC and I’ll let them tattoo “Tummy tuck by KFC” right across my midsection in exchange.
I’ll even wear a little diamond chicken leg belly-button ring.
For all you other corporate sponsors out there, I’m giving you notice my hindend is prime real estate that currently is large enough for a “Lipo by KFC” sign. After all, I hold the fried chicken franchise personally responsible for at least some of its spread. My dad didn’t call me Tater Butt just because it sounded cute.
Well, it did kinda sound cute when it was hollered across the Walmart that time.
“Tater Butt, would you come to the Customer Service counter, please? Tater Butt?”
No need for a last name. What kid’s going to answer to Tater Butt? Well, except me.
KFC did had a slight public relations problem with PETA, that group of animal rights activists -- by which I mean people who have forgotten they are actually, well, people -- who also wanted to pave potholes in Chattanooga and cover them with depictions of Col. Sanders as the devil. Poor ol’ Col. Sanders. Give him a break. He died before he even knew it was wrong to stuff a bunch of chickens in cages on a big ol’ truck.
Any-hoo, using private funds to better our public world could be a good thing.
Corporations already have taken over stadiums and arenas.
Think of the possibilities.
We could one day drive across McDonald’s Bridge with its golden arches.
Our kids could be driven to school on Taco Bell buses.
And, let’s be honest, ball fields could do with a better class of food. A little war between Chick-fil-A and Zaxby’s could only benefit us parents, although, not, of course, our hindends.
If only La Z Boy would bid for the rights to the bleachers, we’d be all set.
And just think if Walmart would sponsor schools. Teachers’ eyes would glaze as they picture the endless supplies of glue, finger paints, and No. 2 pencils. And you could almost picture class moms’ eyes tear up at the thought of all the paper towels and hand sanitizer … and maybe even a few pudding cups for when the days get a little stressful.
All I ask is that, if allowed to sponsor high schools, Burger King and McDonald’s keep that freaky smiling king and weird red-headed clown off the football fields.
They scare the kids.
Not unlike my diamond chicken leg belly button ring would.
Kelly Kazek
Real estate available for corporate sponsorship
- Kelly Kazek
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What are smart phones really planning?
You may think I still use eight-track cassettes and BETA tapes, too, but, no, it’s only with phones that I draw the line. I have my reasons. Hear me out.
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Biography of Kelly Kazek
Kelly Kazek was born in Warner Robins, Ga., in whichever year adds up to her being 35.
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Surreal episode irks orchestra director
When the iPhone’s common ringtone, which is supposed to sound like that well-known musical instrument the marimba, went off during a performance of the New York Philharmonic last Tuesday, the conductor was highly irked, incensed and rankled, or in philharmonic terms, seriously cheesed.
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Lucy smarter than the average dog
I was thinking perhaps I should give Lucy one of those doggie IQ tests. You know, the ones in which you place a ball under a blanket and see if your dog is smart enough to find it?
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Having daughter home from college an experience
During Shannon’s first long visit home at Thanksgiving, I realized we were having a communication problem, namely she doesn’t think she has to communicate what time she’ll be home at night.
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A single mom’s dream before Christmas
Note: This column by Kelly Kazek was initially published Christmas Eve 2006 in The News Courier.
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It's here: Annual Guide to Seriously Weird Christmas Gifts
Then, shoo, skedaddle, vamoose. Go watch football or pull someone’s finger or whatever it is you guys do. But do not read this column!
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Dieter's blue plate includes Cookie Monster cupcake
Finally, after all these years I have learned the excuse, er, reason for my weight gain: my plate.
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Most wonderful time can be dangerous
After reading about the dastardly deeds committed so far this year in the name of peace on earth, I am starting a petition to send to Santa. I am asking him to change his list categories from “naughty” and “nice” to “naughty,” “nice enough,” “purty good,” and “too stupid to be wasting Rudolph’s oxygen.”
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