Although you might possibly be forgiven if you wait until everything’s 50% off.
BACK IN 2009, some blogger stirred up some trouble when she realized that Walmart was selling store brand knockoff versions of a coupla of Girl Scout Cookies — Thin Mints and whatever the peanut butter ones are called. The good peanut butter ones. (Not those awful dry peanut butter sandwich cookie ones that no one likes.)
Anyway, it was a big deal for a few days and people picked sides, and we went to war, and many good people died. But me, I never understood what the issue was since Keebler already had been selling their own knockoffs of Thin Mints, the peanut butter ones (the good peanut butter ones) and even the Samoa ones for some time before this without anyone calling Keebler “evil” — a descriptor that Walmart didn’t escape in that little fracas (nor any other one, it seems).
So that was, what?, eight years ago. Then last year it was announced that Kelloggs was going to be releasing a Keebler chocolate chip cookie cereal, and the cereal blogs went crazy over that — those that update their content, that is. Not to be outdone, General Mills spoke of plans for a “limited edition” Girl Scouts Cookie Thin Mint cereal and the internet really went ballistic, with thousands upon thousands of people glancing at the various articles referencing it that appeared in their Facebook feed — and many even taking that all-important extra step of showing their unbridled enthusiasm by clicking “Like” and writing asinine comments like “can’t wait” and “ooh, luv me some thin mints.” Now that’s commitment!
Anyway, as regular readers of this blog know, this afternoon I was in Walmart and I saw both of them…
…and there they were, side-by-side, best of friends. I guess it’s nice to know that Walmart, Keebler and the Girl Scouts of America have all buried the hatchet.
However, I can’t resist pointing out that at 18.5 ounces, the “Family Size” box of Girl Scout Cookie Thin Mint Cereal ($3.98), weighs more than twice as much as a box of Girl Scouts’ Thin Mints — which are currently being sold here in Southern California for $5 a box(!).
I checked the Girl Scout website and their cookie-sellin’ schedule says they’ll be outside my local Walmart sellin’ cookies this Saturday from noon to three.
So my dilemma is whether to mock the little girls as I leave the store by refusing to buy their cookies but waving a box of their own licensed cereal in their faces, or to mock them by refusing to buy their cookies but waving a package of Walmart’s mint cookies at them.
As if this wasn’t disturbing enough…!
As if every aspect of this news story isn’t bad enough!
And it’s at Rhode Island School of Design! RISD! One of our nation’s most important art schools! The art school with such high standards, they even rejected my portfolio!
If there’s nothing but tolerant, accepting, progressive people at a major art school — an art school people! — I don’t know what to think! Well, for the record, I’m sure there’s a majority of tolerant, accepting, progressive people there…but evidently at least one bad apple.
And as though all that weren’t bad enough, there’s more!
To make this story even worse…
Someone thought “feces” needed to be pluralized into “feceses.”
“…At the tone, leave your name & message. I’ll get back to you.”
:: beeeep ::
“Hey, Rockford — it’s Moss Williams. You remember me. From the joint. Yeah, well I’m out now and it’s payback time. When I find you, I’m takin’ you out!”
* * * * * *
“So after this, Rockford, maybe you an’ me, maybe we get some cotton candy & hit the merry-go-round. Whaddaya say?”
Chicken Soup for the Soul…cat food. Featuring of all the things cats love: Red-skinned potatoes, spinach, carrots, and sweet potatoes.
There must have been a lot of drinking at the licensing expo that year.
That this product even exists is not the craziest part.
No, the craziest part is that the 99¢ Only store is trying to unload these small, Fancy Feast-sized cans of it for, yes, 99¢ Only…each.
At that price, the old people on severely fixed incomes who shop at 99¢ Only are going to starve!
Eleven years ago Richard Black took paintbrush in hand and changed the face of modern art forever…
Let’s take a closer look, hmm?
In the foreground, we’ve got a rather stern-looking woman in her classic LBD. She’s not a dame to be trifled with, by that look on her puss!
She contemplates life as she peers out over the ocean. Has she been stood up? Perhaps she’s just broken up with someone. Or is she angry that despite trying the controversial and painful hot-glob-of-tar-to-the-scalp treatment, at least one stubborn, hardy arachnid from that tarantula infestation on her head still remains?
And that churning sea — does it call to her? Can she sense Cthulhu beckoning through that vestigial tentacle she’s thrown stylishly over her shoulder?
Now as for the wreckage behind her: A Porsche has careened off the road, onto the sidewalk and crashed into the railing. The impact has caused the hood to fly up with enormous force yet instead of crumpling into a dented, folded, collapsed wad of mangled steel, it now resembles a sliver of uncooked beef at a Mongolian barbecue — a phenomenon someone with a better understanding of physics than myself could probably explain.
Did the driver, or driveh, as the vanity plate reads, survive? Is that him (or her) looking at the Woman at the Railing, or is it merely a pale, black-clad passerby, stopping to peer at the carnage inside, on his or her way to a beat poetry reading at a local café?
There’s no right answer. It’s up to the viewer to interpret the scene.
One thing’s for sure, though: If he did crash because he was distracted by the painting’s main figure — and he survived — he should thank his lucky stars. There was no way he’d have walked away from hitting head-on that enormous wall of matzoh bread that the road dead-ends into just a few yards farther.
Mmm-mm! Green watermelon frosting!
…Or there was a big argument and subsequent falling-out.
Or maybe it just got weird in general having this around, as it offers no clue as to whom it refers.
Presumably, this large wooden block — it seems to be an about 10″ section of a two-by-four — was a gift from one “bestie,” as you kids insist on saying, to another.
But then what? The recipient puts it on her coffee table or a shelf in the living room and everyone who comes over starts wondering, “Is she just really friendly?” “Is that about me?” “Does she think I’m her best friend?” and “Sheesh, I’m just here to fix the cable. Now apparently I’ve got to clear my Sunday for brunch with this woman.”
And, dear God, what happens if two of her friends visit at the same time?! The confusion! The awkwardness! The inevitable catfight!
Nope, she was right to get rid of it.
Of course, the curse strikes again with whoever buys it and gives it next.
*Second best would be newspapers, and that’s what we have for you today.
“Your mother’s too weak to make dinner tonight so everyone into the car, gang — we’re going to Rickett’s!”
“Aw, gee, Pop, it’s so dark in that place and they’re always out of milk.”
“Enough of your bellyaching and help your sister with her leg braces.”
“I’ll bet Zelda Fitzgerald doesn’t have to wear funny hats to help support her husband’s writing career.”
“I, um, wouldn’t know, Mrs. Cronin.”
“And that Pauline Pfeiffer. You think Hemingway has her doing these sort of things?”
“I’m sorry, ma’am. I-I’m really just here to take the photo.”
“…the lovely bride-to-be is the daughter of Mildred and Nosferatu McMullen.”
“…And that Grace Kelly. You think Hitchcock has her doing these sort of things?”
Note that Hollywood Bread featured “a particular blend of selected ingredients” — as opposed to those lesser brands made with just a random combination of whatever’s handy.
Directions: Swallow two tablets with a full glass of goat’s blood every four hours. Do not mix with pea soup.
“Billy Ray Wilder and Libby Ferguson were picked as Homecoming King & Queen by sympathetic and increasingly unnerved members of the Class of 1952 after Billy Ray was tragically killed in a car accident last month but reluctant to completely leave this world and move on…”
Here’s hearty, well-fed Augustus Gloop, outside the gates of the Wonka Candy Factory, waiting to get in:
Here’s a bunch of poor, hungry Jewish kids inside the gates of Auschwitz, never to get out:
The top image is of course from the beloved, non-Tim Burton film, “Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory” (1971).
And the bottom image is from the infamous Jerry Lewis train wreck, “The Day the Clown Cried” (1972).
Now, that kid in the tan trenchcoat just to the right of the center probably isn’t Michael Bollner, who played young Gloop in Wonka, but the important thing is he kind of looks like him, I guess he could be him, but even if that’s not the case I’ve just started some sort of ridiculous urban legend with no basis in fact. Let that be my legacy.
If nothing else, it makes you think. Maybe that pipe Augustus got sucked up didn’t go to the fudge room after all.