The sadist ad wizards that have addicted the entire global populous to our cell phones and social media soul poison have done it again, gang.
You probably heard digital rumblings/outrage about the International House of Pancakes changing their name from IHOP to IHOB.

Your favorite carb lard fat casual chain is pivoting from fatcakes to fatburgers. For now. Or whatever.
I’ve got an IHOP story.
The year was 2005. College Station, America. It was the middle of one of my senior years.
I went to a Robert Earl Keen show at Hurricane Harry’s. Suffice it to say, I got crippled drunk out of my mind. I’m talking that sloppy ass college blackout for $20 gassing 32 oz. chuggers and rail shots of whiskey distilled in gas station toilets. It was a big time.


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