Jaida R. L. Mack

Stop tickling the keyboard for a second, meat manglers, and let autoplay work its hideous magic on this one. I'm John Arby, King of Arby's, and there's something curled up under the beef-broiling furnace at my core that needs some air. No, it's nothing sinister. It's a heart. I want it on the record and in the public eye that despite the wealth of opinions and lifestyles presented here on Cohost that did not feature a ravenous hunger for beef - or sometimes any kind of meat at all - I have never wished ill toward the little purple thing that gave you weirdos a place to express yourselves. Sharing your photographs, stories, music, or games which featured something other than those gas-blasting fart machines we throw on the grill here was a momentary respite from a terrible crusade that I'd wish on no mortal man without my incredible fortitude. If ever one of you has a chance to address eggbug directly, tell it this: orders of $10 or more at participating Arby's grill palaces qualify for free delivery. I'll even send it a salad. Good luck, chomp champs. First be a friend to all. I'm John Arby.