Q: What chip angered a columnist in Fall 2006?
The subject of today's rant came from an excursion last weekend to Shaw's supermarket.
I'm sure many of you have been there, and I'm sure many of you can relate to the strangely calming sensation you get as you escape from the hustle and bustle (yes, I just used that term) of campus to this strange little utopia of aisles and muzak and carts and people looking just as brain-dead and lost as you.
Unfortunately, my Nirvana of soup, laundry detergent and iced tea was shattered as a bamboozling and mildly disturbing item came into view.
This had happened once before when Diet Cherry Vanilla Dr. Pepper was introduced. In that case, the name alone had thrown me for a spin.
It was quite a mouthful, almost reminiscent of Japanese pop songs that have randomly thrown in English lyrics.
But, I was able to forgive the beverage at a later date on the grounds of the sheer joy it brings me. For, you see, despite the name, it tastes more or less exactly like Dr. Pepper (even more so than Diet Dr. Pepper). The cherry or vanilla flavors only pop up once in every six cans, and singly at that. And that's rather special.
There would be no redemption this time. For, staring me in the face was a new and alien cylinder of Pringles. Mind you, I've always been quite fond of Pringles. I like the fact that the slogan of not being able to stop upon popping is quite true.
I like that you can make a duckbill by putting two chips in your mouth (which also gives you an excuse to eat two chips at once). And I really like the fact that they come in cylinders, making them all that much easier than bags to store in a dorm room.
So naturally, it would be hard to conceive of a Pringle I did not like. Except, these Pringles brought something with them that should not be on any Pringle: music trivia.
Yes, music trivia. On the Pringle. Not on the cylinder or the top or anything like that. On the Pringle itself.
Is nothing holy anymore? I mean, Snapple bottle caps are fine, and, in fact, a welcome addition to your drink. They're like an appetizer: "Before you enjoy this tasty concoction of sugar, would you like to know that the town of Florence once made a strand of spaghetti 15,039 feet long?"
And if you don't like them, you just ignore the cap. It's a relatively easy thing to do. But to ignore every chip that you ingest, now that is quite the feat - far more than you should ask of your everyday American.
Imagine the horror that lies before us: with every single chip you take, you will be compelled to read before eating. There will be no more quick, mindless scarfing of the fried wonders; everything shall take time and rumination.
And then, of course, there's the frustration as you get chip after chip of repetitive trivia!
But you won't be able to stop reading, because you know the one time you don't, it will be the one piece of music trivia that would have given meaning to your life.
And I shall not even digress into the fact that you are eating the words. Only the most expert spies, such as James Bond, Jennifer Garner and Harriet, can eat words.
And you, my dear reader, are probably not a spy and most certainly not an expert. Sorry to break whatever delusions you were having, but it's true.
Instead of blowing up casinos in blimps and rescuing your sexy partner, you are like me: a man who can only handle his cookie after the fortune has been safely removed.
You are one who believes that cereal boxes should be read, not the cereal itself (though Alphabits are a special case, due to their mercurial messages).
You are the sort of person who peels the label from fruit. And you're happy with who you are, in that regard at least.
These new Pringles will leave us confused, disoriented and prey to the chaos that is sure to overtake society by their presence.
Not to mention that they also ruin our otherwise very realistic-looking duckbill. That's a crime that certainly should not be taken lying down.
So, for those of you naysayers, those of you who believe that we are merely on the brink of a brave new world of mixing together chips and music trivia, I close this column by simply asking you and your loved ones: What next?
Will there be advertisements on our Lay's? Will a Snickers bar give us the summary of last week's episode of "24"? Will companies program alphabet soup to spell out SAT words? Who knows...
