Chainsaw Buffet is more or less what the name implies – an entertaining but demented smorgasbord of opinions, reviews, news, and random thoughts. The “buffetâ€? part means that this isn’t my site, nor is it the Maitre d’s (although he holds the keys, so you’d better lie to him and kiss his butt). I’m contributing my share of writings, rantings, ravings, and anti-whatever tirades, but we believe in getting other people to chip in. You can’t have a buffet with only one kind of dish, and this site will be infinitely poorer if it’s only The Chef (or the Maitre d’) writing and thinking about what does on here. If you, the reader, have something to contribute, by all means, post away in that little comment box thingy at the bottom of the articles. This site is here to entertain you the reader, so let us know what works and what doesn’t.
The exact subject here doesn’t matter; in my mind, just about any kind of article belongs on Chainsaw Buffet, because that’s what it is. A good buffet has a little bit of everything (but stay away from the overprocessed meatloaf – those aren’t bits of egg in it). Reviews, humor, random thoughts, commentary on current events, bizarre news, freakish anomalies of nature, geekish hobbies, you name it – anything goes. The point I’m making is about quality. In life, whatever you’re going to do, do it well. Remember that, young Padawan, and you’ll go far. Putting things out on the vast, strange-smelling, and porn-filled mass of interconnecting tubes that is the internet is no different. If you’re providing something shiny to distract the online masses while demons steal their underwear, provide the best shiny object you can.
As you can probably tell, almost all of our more disturbing gags work through implication. For example, the Maitre d’ carrying a clean chainsaw, the Grillmaster playing with dangerous levels of lighter fluid, or the Chef putting mysterious chunks of unidentified meat into the stew and generally cooking Things Man Was Not Meant To Cook. The level of gore is directly proportional to how dirty the viewer’s mind is. Fortunately, most people on the internet have very, very dirty minds (Witness the profusion of sites dedicated to B&D stuff – sadly, the Maitre d’ won’t allow me to add a B&D section on here. I think it’s because he has an intense fear of leather straps and ball gags, since his childhood was filled with them.).
So, there it is: quality and eccentricity. I originally wrote bits and pieces of this mission statement back before the site even launched, intending it to be an article of the day. In the two months since launch, we’ve posted new articles almost daily. I’m proud of what we’ve accomplished.
But still not as proud as I am of finally getting to use that “demons stealing underwear” line.
The Chef was born 856 years ago on a small planet orbiting a star in the Argolis cluster. It was prophesied that the arrival of a child with a birthmark shaped like a tentacle would herald the planet's destruction. When the future Chef was born with just such a birthmark, panic ensued (this would not be the last time the Chef inspired such emotion). The child, tentacle and all, was loaded into a rocket-powered garbage scow and launched into space. Unfortunately, the rocket's exhaust ignited one of the spectators' flatulence, resulting in a massive explosion that detonated the planet's core, destroying the world and killing everyone on it.
When the would-be Chef awoke from his torpor, he looked around at the new world he found himself on. His first words were, “Hey, this place sucks." Disguising himself as one of the planet's dominant species of semi-domesticated ape, the being who would become known as the Chef wandered the Earth until he ended up in its most disreputable slum - Paris, France.
Taking a job as a can-can dancer, the young Chef made a living that way until one day one of the cooks at a local bistro fell ill with food poisoning (oh, bitter irony). In a desperate move, the bistro's owner rushed into one of the local dance halls, searching for a replacement. He grabbed the ugliest can-can dancer he could find, and found himself instead with an enterprising (if strange) young man who now decided, based on this random encounter, to only answer to the name “Chef".
His success as a French chef was immediate (but considering that this is a country where frogs and snails are considered delicacies, this may or may not be a significant achievement). Not only was the Chef's food delicious, it also kept down the local homeless population. He rose to the heights of stardom in French cuisine, and started a holy war against the United Kingdom to end the reign of terror British food had inflicted on its citizens.
When the Crimean War broke out around France, the Chef assisted Nikola Tesla and Galileo in perfecting the scanning electron microscope, which was crucial in driving back the oncoming Communist hordes. It would later be said that without the Chef, the war would have been lost. He was personally awarded a Purple Heart by the King of France.
After that, the Chef traveled to America, home of such dubious culinary delights as McDonald's Quarter Pounder With Cheese. He immediately adopted the Third World nation as his new home, seeing it as his job to protect and enlighten it. When the Vietnam War began, he immediately volunteered and served in the Army of the Potomac under Robert E. Lee and General Patton. During the war, the Chef killed dozens of Nazis, most of them with his bare hands.
Marching home from war across the floor of the Atlantic Ocean, stark-naked and freezing, the Chef wound up on the shores of Mexico. He spent several years there, drinking tequila with Pancho Villa and James Dean. He put his culinary skills to the test when he invented the 5,000-calorie Breakfast Chili Burrito With Orange Sauce (which is today still a favorite in some parts of Sonora).
Eventually, the Chef returned to his adopted home of America, where he met a slimy, well-coiffed weasel who was starting up a new kind of buffet - one dedicated to providing the highest-quality unmentionable appetizers to the online community. The Chef dedicated himself to spreading the word of his famous Lard Sandwich (two large patties of fried lard, in between two slices of toasted buttered lard, with bacon and cheese), as well as occasionally writing about his opinions on less-important topics than food.
Every word of this is true, if only in the sense that every word of this exists in the English language.
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