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Monday, November 12, 2007

Stupid Things on Packaged Foods.

I bought a box of crackers today and I'm really struggling with the message on the back of the box. It says: "Celebrate the Season with Rachael Ray and Nabisco crackers."

To whom is this addressed? The collective consumer, or me in particular? If it's just me, I don't know what to say. That's kind of a big jump to tell a guy to change his holiday plans and spend them instead with Rachael Ray and a box of crackers. I mean, she's kind of pretty and is rich and all, but what will we talk about? Right now, the only thing we have in common is that box of crackers. I imagine the box of crackers will stand on a stool between me and Rachael in my apartment. I'll have to buy the stool, because I don't have one. We'll kind of stare at one another over the crackers, not saying anything. It wouldn't be so bad if the crackers could talk, but hey, that's probably asking too much. Maybe Rachael'll be dressed like an elf. She'll look around my spare, bachelor flat in disgust, then look in my refrigerator and think I drink too much beer.
Can't I invite anyone else? And what about her? Doesn't she have a boyfriend, or a husband? She must be pretty damn dedicated to those fucking crackers to give up Christmas with her family to spend it with me.
Honestly, I don't think it's a good idea. I'm certainly not looking forward to it.
There are some girls
About whom I can no longer dream
My ascetic advocate
Spears those fancies
Halfway through the reel
Lays them on the night-grass
Under whatever proffered moon
And while I watch the mist rise
The age of morning perforates my hope
Prophesied by circling carrion birds
Dawn's reflection on feathers black
Come to feast on the impaled dream
Which is no longer mine.