Bucket of goat heads inside store that smells bad

You can go into a store in Flatbush and there’s a bucket of goat heads chilling in the back. You can smell it the exact second you step through the door. It smells bad.

And it’s always right next to the bucket of dead fish that are just sitting there in the open air. I’m standing there wondering: Is it FDA approved to store a dead goat head and entire raw fish in an orange bucket that says HOME DEPOT on the side with zero refrigeration?! Who is the target demographic here? Who actually buys this?!

The TikTok Pipeline Then, of course, you see some guy on TikTok cooking it, and he’s doing a tutorial like, “You must boil it for 5 hours because it’s disgusting. You must boil it to get the stank out.”

How do you even order that? Do you just walk up to the counter and say, “Can I get a bucket of your absolute weirdest shit? What is the most genuinely disgusting thing you can possibly think of? I would like to purchase and eat that.” or “Yeah, hi, can I have whatever you have in that Home Depot bucket that smells like absolute shit back there?” And the guy behind the counter is just like, “Yeah, man, you lucked out, we’re almost sold out.”

It’s so weird. Like, even your dog wouldn’t want to eat that. Your dog gets done eating a literal turd out of the yard, and then you slam a goat’s head in his bowl and he’s like… “Ew… what the hell is wrong with you? I’m not eating that.”

And yeah, this TikTok video I saw, the guy is boiling the head for like three days, and then he’s like, “I have to soak it in brine to get rid of the bitter, disgusting flavor.”

The Home Depot Logistics

How does the goat head even end up in the Home Depot bucket?

Does the shop owner stop and think, “Hmmm, what is the most disgusting possible thing that I could think of doing today? I know. I’ll go to Home Depot.” And he walks right past the lumber section, straight to the plastic bucket aisle, and he actually asks someone in an orange vest for help. He’s like, “Excuse me, these five-gallon buckets aren’t big enough. I need one that stores multiple severed heads.” And the employee is just like, “What…?”

Honestly, that should be in the Home Depot commercial.

[UPBEAT HOME DEPOT ACCOUSTIC GUITAR MUSIC PLAYS] Voiceover: “How doers get more done.” Visual: Show a guy installing a beautiful backyard deck. Cut to a family painting a bedroom. Then cut to a guy petting his cute pet goat… and then it instantly cuts to later where he’s kicking the goat’s severed head off the dirty floor into an orange bucket.

Because it’s always on the floor, too! It’s never on a counter. It’s just a floor bucket.

The Economics of the Floor Bucket

The absolute worst part is probably that it’s way more expensive than what you think, and it makes zero sense financially or in terms of macros. I can’t stand when people who own a bodega don’t put prices on things. That’s only one dimension of why the mysterious animal parts in the bucket are so annoying. You can’t even check the price on an app. You have to actually open your mouth and ask another human being, “Hey, how much for that disgusting shit back there?”

And then they just roll their eyes at you and they’re like, “UGH… if you have to ask, then you’re obviously not cool enough to buy it.”

And don’t even get me started on those weird-ass social media channels where these influencers are just straight-up eating raw meat. On Instagram or whatever, some guy genuinely thinks it’s super masculine. Like, congratulations, bro, you now have literal worms writhing inside your intestines for the gram. How incredibly alpha of you that you did this for the gram—an application literally designed to brainwash women into being as stupid as possible in order to destroy society. Why don’t you just jump off a bridge for the gram while you’re at it?

One time I had a guy say that exact shit to me as I was buying food from some Colombian restaurant. He was just a random customer standing there, and he was like, “Hey man, this food is good.” And I was just like, “Yeah, I know.”

I was really high at the time, and I had just come from McDonald’s because I had the McDonald’s app on my phone. Which, by the way, I had just reinstalled again after uninstalling it in a fit of pure, unadulterated rage because McDonald’s made me wait 28 minutes for my food. At that point, if you’ve been making me wait 28 minutes for my McDonald’s, you might as well just shoot me in the fucking head because you have already ruined my entire life.

I spent 28 minutes inside this McDonald’s just staring at the ads for the Shamrock McFlurry—something I am never going to purchase.

The Repressed Rage of the Golden Arches

It’s always so weird when you see those viral videos of people going behind the counter to fight the employees, and then the employees get to unleash their ultimate repressed rage at you. You know how there’s supposedly “hobo strength”? Well, there is definitely McDonald’s Employee Repressed Rage Strength.

It’s the point where all the constant, agonizing beeping sounds coming from the various fryers and timers—which have been repressed by your brain just so you can mentally survive the shift—suddenly flood back out all at once, and you somehow possess like five times your normal level of physical strength. It’s like those legends of pregnant women lifting a whole sedan to save their trapped baby, but even more intense.

It reminds me of Stephen Patula. You know that guy on YouTube who started owning a McDonald’s franchise at age 18 because his dad already owns like nine of them? He’s super Christian and makes these wholesome vlogs about it and working at McDonald’s, and he’s like 24 years old now, already owns three stores, and is already married with two kids or something. He stopped posting on YouTube at some point, and I honestly wonder if he eventually tried shrooms or something and realized that he’s 100% going to hell. There’s just something fundamentally incompatible about McDonald’s and human morality.

The Colombian Restaurant Incident

But anyway, the point is, I had just gone to McDonald’s, and then I went to get this other thing from the Colombian restaurant—like a fried potato ball that has some kind of meat inside it. And I was so high or drunk or something that I accidentally handed the guy working there my bag of McDonald’s instead of my wallet. He looked inside the bag, completely bewildered, and was just like, “What…?”

And I was like, “Never mind.”

Rright as I am handing the guy at this Colombian restaurant my bag of McDonald’s, this other guy who was just hanging out there—not working, maybe he was actually an employee waiting on his off-shift food like chicken, beans, and rice—looks at me, points directly at the floor to indicate the building we are currently standing in, and says:

“This food is good.”

And I was just like, “Ok.”

I mean I guess it’s not that weird to just start talking to another human being for no particular reason. But like, what kind of a review is that? I should have said, “Oh, actually, I don’t like it. I thought it was bad. I only walked in here because I thought it was bad, and now I’m walking out.”

How would Stephen Patula even process a Colombian restaurant? It goes entirely against his whole identity, which is shoveling as many trans fats as possible into as many human bodies as he can, in order to kill the maximum number of people as fast as possible. He’d probably walk in and be like, “Oh, this authentic food is good, but I actually prefer the McRib, which is back for a limited time.”