If he only had a brain, the Chimp would hire the geniuses who came up with the latest campaign for the wannabe Big Mac. The Gurgling Cod slammed it first, but the ads seem to be working: They’re getting roundly thrashed and trashed everywhere when once they would have instantly faded into oblivion. After all the rainforests are gone, in the next year or so, people will still be marveling that something so offensive could have ever have been produced in a wired world. Now that I’ve vented, though, I’m unfortunately starting to visualize updates of old commercials: Which twin has the Toni, re-shot in the Amazon. Or how about Mikey likes it, in Haiti, maybe? Of course the real offense is the “food” itself, and its cheap allure is not going to end even if “foodies” holler till the cows fall down for someone enlightened as Agriculture secretary. Big Food is a formidable force. And exporting the crap notions only makes things worse — even my latest e-offer from the Molto of India is a set of cookbooks for diabetics. Earl Butz doesn’t have to worry about a legacy. It’s trouble with a capital D.