Alright America, normally I write about nonsense and how Anthony Weiner was elected president in an alternate universe or whatever, but this week it’s time to get serious.

What’s going on? An unjust war? Unfair practices against the masses? “The Walking Dead” keeps declining in quality?

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No, an even worse reality than anything I could have imagined.

Sriracha production may be leaving the country.

The Irwindale City Council ruled the factory that produces Sriracha, everyone’s favorite all-American (read: Korean) sauce, a public nuisance.

And shame on you people of Irwindale. Here you have the finest sauce known to man in your backyard, yet you spurn it like an old maid. The only other thing you’ll be known for is the Southern California Renaissance Pleasure Faire, an event so boring I would declare myself a witch just to be burned at the stake instead of spending an entire day there, and a Miller Brewing plant, a beer that literally tastes like animal urine.

And who’s to stop this rogue council from anything else detrimental? We need to send in the Army before the council drafts a ban on fun.

At this point, they’re being as heartless and soulless as my mom’s evil puppy.

So in lieu of rational discussion, I think it’s time we do the only thing we can: gather our pitchforks and burning torches and show Irwindale what spicy really is.

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