There I was at my doctor’s office. I was seeing him about the goo that was growing between some of my toes. He sent it off for a culture. What happened after that is disgustedly amazing.

Case in point: the goo patch between my toes. I thought it was athlete’s foot. The doctor thought it was athlete’s foot. Turns out, it was history in the making: a sample of goo that became the immortal CSC line — Chain Saw Chicken cells.

Immortal means they don’t die. Ever. They just keep dividing, multiplying, taking up space like in-laws who forgot how to leave. You could drop them in a Petri dish in 1973, and in 2025, they’d still be at the party.

Now, you might have heard of another line like this: HeLa cells, taken from Henrietta Lacks without her consent in 1951. They became the backbone of modern medicine — used to develop the polio vaccine, cancer therapies, gene mapping, you name it. That poor woman’s tumor cells outlived her by decades and made billions for other people.

Well, congratulations, Henrietta. I’m next in line.

Enter Farm Grown Freshness™. Sounds wholesome, doesn’t it? A nice farm, red barn, smiling cow, apple pie on the windowsill. In reality? It’s a warehouse full of stainless-steel vats burping out beef, pork, fish, and chicken — all genetically bullied out of my immortal toe cells.

They call it “clean meat.” They call it “sustainable.” They call it “farm grown.” Funny how none of that involves a farm, an animal, or anything fresh.

Here’s the kicker: this isn’t a fringe idea.

  • Bill Gates and other investors have poured millions into companies like UPSIDE Foods and Impossible Foods.

  • Countries around the world are already banning lab-grown meat (Italy, France, Austria, and a dozen others) because even they see through the shine.

  • Texas went so far as to pass a law banning its sale altogether, prompting lawsuits from the companies crying foul.

But don’t worry — the marketing department has you covered. They’ll tell you this is “the future of food,” “climate-friendly,” “better than animals.” What they won’t tell you? You might be chewing on Henrietta’s lung cancer or my own immortal toe jam disguised as Salisbury steak.

Picture this: Bill Gates at a barbecue, apron on, spatula in hand. “Part two of my career,” he grins. He slaps a burger on your plate, juices running. “Sink your teeth into the future!”

And you do. And it’s delicious.
And then Chainsaw Chicken whispers in your ear:
“That’s not beef. That’s a metastasis with mustard.”

Mrs. Chicken stands behind me, arms crossed, glaring. “What did you get out of all this?”

I stood up and said “Mr. Gates gave me a full and complete copy of Windows ’97 plus…PLUS Word ’97″… So THERE!