Jimmy Dean had a similar commercial.
“The eggs come from real chickens.”
“The milk comes from real cows.”
Obviously it means milk obtained from cows certified as having once definitely flopped wetly out of a hole in the back of another cow, as opposed to flopping wetly out of an alien vegetable pod.
Milk from robot cows has a distinct nutty flavor.
I always get my milk from Salvador Dari - milk from surreal cows. I like the fishy aftertaste.
Milk from unreal cows
http://www.sumo-dojo.com/tech.html
Here is the explanation.
Diversive product lines.
I’m absolutely certain I can (given enough time) find a couple of Chinese women whose business is to let you BUY their Chinese milk.
I only want 20%.
Not sure yet if I can make more money from nursing babies or commercial cheese.
Well sure. Where’d you think we got Liu Fat Milk?
Holly: No, they’re from Earth. I hope they’ve got some spare odds and sods on board. We’re a bit short on a few supplies.
Lister: Like what?
Holly: Cow’s milk. Ran out of that yonks ago. Fresh and dehydrated.
Lister: What kind of milk are we using now?
Holly: Emergency back-up supply. We’re on the dog’s milk.
Lister, staring at his cup of tea: Dog’s milk?!
Holly: Nothing wrong with dog’s milk. Full of goodness, full of vitamins, full of marrowbone jelly. Lasts longer than any other type of milk, dog’s milk.
Lister: Why?
Holly: No bugger’ll drink it. Plus the advantage of dog’s milk is when it goes off it tastes exactly the same as when it’s fresh.
Lister: Why didn’t you tell me, Holly?!
Holly: What, and spoil your tea?
That commercial always makes me laugh!
I bought Jimmy Dean sausage one time, and I thought it tasted kinda funny. Now I know why.
Greg Focker: You can milk anything with nipples.
Future FIL: I have nipples, Greg. Can you milk me?
Welcome to our special preview of Wholecloth Films’ soon-to-be-released sequel, Blade Runner II: Replicows.
SCENE ONE: THE OPULENT OFFICE OF THE EVIL DAIRY TYCOON DR AUROCHS.
Angus Dexter (voiceover): I didn’t know why they’d called me. I’d been retired for more than a year from the worst job in the world: finding and “retiring” dangerous, artificially engineered bovines for a corrupt futuristic society as afraid of its creations as it was dependent on them. Sure, the hours were good, and they didn’t mind you constantly talking to yourself in expository narration (which’ll get you fired right off at Happy Mart – trust me), but the angst was a killer. And the ennui. The weltschmertz was no picnic either, come to think of it. Anyway –
Dr. Aurochs: Forgive the interruption, Mr. Dexter, but we have a problem. A small herd of replicows has escaped from the Neptune colony.
Dexter: How did they get here?
Dr. Aurochs: They stole a space ship and reached Earth with a lunar gravity assist.
Dexter: So they …
Dr. Aurochs: Jumped over the moon, yes. We think their purpose is to disrupt milk production, and possibly infiltrate and destabilize one or more of the major world religions.
Dexter: Someone will have to be on the lookout for Profane Cows and rogue Papal Bulls. But that’s no job for an introspective, unconventionally-handsome action hero. What do you want from me?
Dr. Aurochs: You’re supposed to be expert at hunting and killing replicows, and especially at using the De Laval protocol to detect them. To make certain, however, I have arranged a small test of your skill. This is Bossie. Can you tell if she is real – or replicow?
Bossie: Mooo-ooooooo.
Dexter: Hold on a minute. What’s her background?
Dr. Aurochs: She works in our company cafeteria. She does rather well, given our policy on gratuities.
Dexter: What is the policy?
Dr. Aurochs: No cow-tipping jokes. And her brother Elmer used to have a job in a china shop, but it didn’t work out.
Dexter: What’s he doing now?
Bossie: Mooo-oooooooooo.
Dr. Aurochs: She doesn’t like to talk about it. Are you ready to test her?
Dexter: All right. (To Bossie) You’re walking along the beach and you see a hermit crab that is missing a leg. It is unaware of your presence. What do you do?
Bossie: Moooo-ooo?
Dexter: I’m asking the questions. Okay. Your husband gives you an extravagant gift. You find out he earned the extra money moonlighting at a hamburger stand. How do you feel?
Bossie: Moo.
Dexter: That’s enough. Dr. Aurochs, Bossie here is a replicow, engineered and enhanced beyond normal bovine abilities.
Dr. Aurochs: You’re right. How did you determine that so quickly?
Dexter: Like you said, Doc, I’m an expert. Besides, she’s sitting in your office smoking a cigarette, for crying out loud.
HIDEOUSLY SELF-INDULGENT VANGELIS SCORE SWELLS, FADE OUT.
Powehouse playing in the dairy barn is a dead giveaway to robotic cows.
Please report to the nearest discipline center.
King of Soup :
Bravo. Absolutely wonderful and unforgiveable.
King of Soup, I’m billing you for my mum’s ruined monitor…
That was brilliant! 
(Obviously they get their milk from alien cows. Duh.)
Houseflies, surely; houses no. But I can guarantee you that before the suction cups are attached to each nipple, you have to take a paper towel dipped in watered carbolic acid and wash/chip off the shit.
“Milk from real cows, who can’t produce boogers so they spend all day sticking their tounges up their nostrils.”
I think they meant to say from cows as oppose to from dehydrated [del]cows[/del] milk!
I’ve just come back from having an omlette for breakfast. The carton reads
“Real Shell Eggs”
Yes, the fake-shell eggs are hideous: all rubbery and gooshy. Almost makes you think there’s an H R Giger diorama just around the corner.
Of course, that says nothing at all about what’s inside the shell…