Whatever Happened to Pizza at McDonald's

In preparation for my upcoming role as United States Pizza Czar, I assemble a uniform with the help of Brooks Brothers and the fine folks at Gorilla Glue.

While investigating the ongoing case of whether Kamala Harris really worked at McDonald's, I unfortunately break a cardinal rule of journalism by sending a source my nudes.

I give God Ben-David one more chance to answer my prayers by pleading with Him to remove violence from the hearts of humanity before I become a major political figure.

I investigate reports that Kamala Harris did not, in fact, work at McDonald's. In the process, I update my resume.

In light of recent McDonald's-related developments in presidential politics, I consider giving up my status as a journalist to become a government lackey.

While investigating reports that Vice President Kamala Harris may have worked at McDonald's, I seek valuable intelligence from another fast food chain owned and operated by nearly six guys.

While visiting the White House to lobby "lame duck" President Biden on passing executive action related to the McDonald's Pizza matter, I suffer an embarrassing accident for which I must extend a sincere mea culpa.

After a Hawaiian Breeze-scented oil explosion forces me to take several baths, my fingers become so pruny that my home security is put at risk.

After last week's electrocution incident, I update the Glade Plugins medical department on my recent doctor's visit and receive some startling disinformation vis-à-vis which of their products is safe to heat up on the stove.

My award-pending investigative series Sériàlle comes to an abrupt end, when I am threatened with legal action by a major local New York newspaper.