McDonald’s Experimenting with “Food Bong” To Pump Big Macs into Drive Thru Customer’s Stomachs.

Dayton, OH — In Dayton, Ohio the McDonald’s drive-thru has become the new epicenter of post-election celebration. It’s not a place typically associated with cutting-edge technology or economic triumph, but today, it’s a monument to excess dressed up as innovation. The “Food Bong,” a device that bypasses chewing in favor of turbo-charging Big Macs directly into the waiting gullets of customers, has made its debut, and the reception has been, fittingly, voracious.

The timing is no coincidence.

The re-election campaign for Donald Trump was anchored less on policy and more on the promise that everyday life would get cheaper, easier, and more indulgent. McDonald’s, ever the corporate weather vane, has sensed the change in the wind and tilted accordingly with its bulk discount on burgers and this new, absurd piece of engineering.

Out of the drive-thru line rolls Marcus Lunsford, your typical middle-class schlubb father of three. His grin is smeared with the remnants of his fifth Big Mac as he hollers out the window to me.

“Hey, you gotta admit, only Trump could get McDonald’s to pump this much burger into a man at this price!” He thumps his chest like he’s just returned from a successful hunt, and maybe, in a way, he has. “It’s the Trump effect,” he insists, wiping a drop of special sauce from his chin.

Further down, the parking lot smells of asphalt and fryer oil. I find Wanda Sturgess leaning against her Honda with the kind of satisfied look usually reserved for lottery winners.

“Oh, honey, we haven’t seen deals like this since before they replaced the playgrounds with kale wraps,” she says, waving her phone with a selfie in front of the Food Bong as proof. “And it’s all thanks to our great president being back. This is real economic power, the kind that makes you feel it in your belly.”

Of course, in this town, where loyalty comes deep-fried and opinion is thicker than a shake, not everyone is content to let McDonald’s hog the glory. Across the street, Burger King, that perennial underdog known for trying a little too hard, flashes a marquee that reads, “Beat the Food Bong: Stomach Pump Special Only $1.99 with Large Pop.” It’s a stunt that screams desperation, the kind of overcompensating spectacle only Burger King would concoct to remind the world they’re still here. If McDonald’s is going to turn the drive-thru into a circus, Burger King will show up dressed as the ringmaster, complete with top hat and trumpet, off-key and over the top, but you can’t fault them for trying.

As the sun dips and the cars keep rolling through, Todd “Hank” Jenkins pulls up on a Harley barely able to carry the man and his new McDonald’s loyalty bong cup.

“Hey. Fake News,” apparently speaking to me. “This is more than just a discount,” he said, the exhaust from the Food Bong’s maiden voyage still clouding around his shoulders. “This is what it looks like when the real people are winning again. Ain’t nobody done it since Trump, you know? Makes me proud to be American.” He roared off, leaving behind only the faintest sound of Twisted Sister’s “We’re Not Gonna Take It,” trailing him into the early autumn evening.

Back at the drive-thru window, McDonald’s staff keep their smiles rehearsed, and the Food Bong stays primed, awaiting its next hungry convert. And the joke writes itself: gluttony disguised as innovation, patriotism measured by bulk discounts, and Dayton’s streets alive with the post-election satisfaction that, for now, a Big Mac and a tank of gas cost less than they did a month ago. And for many here, that’s what really counts.