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Fine, KFC, You Win: We Will Have Sex With Colonel Sanders

The chicken chain's thirsty marketing has finally worn us down. We agree to smash the 11 herbs and spices out of the colonel's buttered biscuits.

by Alex Zaragoza
Sep 10 2019, 7:00pm

Composite image by VICE Staff; original image: Noam Galai / Getty

Just like a nagging mother hell-bent on getting you married to a moderately attractive (yet financially stable) orthodontist, KFC seems to be on a serious mission to get you wet for Colonel Sanders. Clearly, some 27-year-old creative director at an upstart ad agency/"experience curation dome" came to the KFC headquarters one day and said something like, "You need to engage potential new customers by infiltrating the timeline through their deepest desires and most ironic sensibilities, and the only way to do that is by making everyone wanna straight up fuck Colonel Sanders 'til he's a boneless pair of thighs." While there is no record of this actually having happened, it's hard to imagine why else the higher-ups at the artist formerly known as Kentucky Fried Chicken would engage in the blatant attempts at panty-dropping they have been of late.

In April, KFC unveiled a sexy CGI Colonel with buff, script-tattooed abs and a gym rat bod who played on influencer culture and pushed the boundaries of the uncanny valley into a whole new creepy territory. The thirst traps continued for their Mother's Day campaign, in which a total smokeshow Colonel Sanders ripped off his tank and performed a striptease while surrounded by "Chickendales" dancers. It ends with the half-nude beefcakes gyrating while dressed in huge costumes of KFC menu items, all to promote a meal deal and steamy video content meant for children to send to their "cool" moms.

All this, of course, set the horniest corners of the internet into a tizzy, leading to some pretty juicy/disturbing (depending on your freak levels) Colonel Sanders bondage hentai and other sensuous, homemade imagery depicting the chicken man in all sorts of enticing ways. There's even a photo on KFC's Instagram page of a couple engaging in some sort of chicken-fried foreplay on top of a Colonel-skin rug. We get it—chicken isn't the only thing you do right.

And just when we were all out of breath, drenched in sweat tinged of 11 herbs and spices, with our eyes gazing foggily at the ceiling in confused ecstasy, KFC rolled back on top of us, drumstick in hand, and dropped a new video game that is a Sims-like dating simulator. I Love You Colonel Sanders! A Finger Lickin’ Good Dating Simulator engages players in hours of gameplay where they take on the role of culinary school student under the tutelage of a babely, young Colonel Sanders. They must learn the ways of the chicken, but also find… love. Seriously, does KFC now stand for Keep Fucking, Colonel?

KFC has always been, arguably, the horniest of all fast food joints, considering they sell thighs and breasts that you eat and its slogan is "it's finger lickin' good." But the company's relentless quest to get everyone's underthings thickened with homegrown gravy is too much, and honestly, fine. You've worn us down, KFC. We'll do it. We'll fuck Colonel Sanders.

While Chickendales Colonel and CGI Colonel are the obvious choices, there are plenty of other Colonels to choose from, each with their own level of fuckability. There's Darrell Hammond Colonel, who was the closest portrayal of the OG chicken daddy featured on every 24-piece bucket greasing up passenger seats of Nissan Sentras across America. The Saturday Night Live veteran served country twang, Southern geniality, and a raise of the brows that assured viewers the man doesn't go chin deep in just a mound of mashed potatoes. Then there's Reba McEntire Colonel, who exuded nothing but S-E-X in her KFC commercial. While McEntire was perhaps a strange choice to take on the role of the iconic mascot, her spitfire personality, command of the country music stage, and the way she fills out that white Sanders suit proves she's got the sweet 'n' tangy sauce. She was a natural choice for your extra crispy erotic fantasies—tender as a chicken strip, saucier than the buttermilk ranch in which to dip it.

You did this, KFC. Take my honey-dipped biscuits. I give up my big box meal to the Colonel. I hope you're happy.