I just realized I had an earlier draft of the text of the entry following this one typed into this entry for a whole day. Now the whole world* knows I had thought of “chubby uncle” before “wacky college roommate,” before I realized the guy wasn’t very chubby and didn’t look all that much older than the young Spock. Think of all the ad revenue I lost!

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Apparently Reese’s peanut butter candy bar is made with Reese’s peanut butter. You don’t want to know what the chocolate is made with. Because you don’t care.
I once attended a school in which Reese’s peanut butter cups were a common trinket of value used to motivate students, so to prepare them for the cigarette barter systems common at many of their potential future places of residence, and a single unit was always referred to as “a ree-seez.” That made me mad. Now that reese does indeed produce a product with no name, it still makes me mad because those crum bums were saying his name wrong. It is Reese, not Reesy! They also pronounced scythe as “skeeth.”

The question is: Am I worthy? This slogan was no accident; it’s printed on the unnecessary plastic bag the bucket had been placed within, also. Now, then, while I certainly would not eat something which had been declared unfit to occupy a bucket, I likewise am not filled with anticipation at the idea of food designated as just right for a bucket, a hop, skip and a gump away from food unfit to fill anything else.

Jack Links: the only raw chicken that’s convenience store room temperature plastic bag-worthy. When did this stuff get to Connecticut? I know in The South people are more in touch with their meat. They are open to the idea that these are parts from dead animals that are only dead because people killed them to eat them. That’s part of the fun for them. In the north-east, though, it’s all about deluding one’s self. Some people have convinced themselves that lobsters don’t feel pain (that is a seven page pdf article. Just so you know). They have convinced themselves, in fact, that fish isn’t meat at all. But there’s no denying what’s in this bag is a cause of suffering. Why not have it be yours? As to whether it’s actual “meat,” if it isn’t, that’s only a result of legal shenanigans, something like “oh, this contains greater than 30% beak and feather per gram, so THEREFORE…”. If you were to attempt to pass off something with no animal flesh in it as meat, if you were in the business of deception, wouldn’t you try harder than this to make it look palatable? This is an honest product. I think the point of taking a picture of the back of this, rather than the front, which bears merely a marketing approved photograph of what this stuff is supposed to look like, only at the rear do you get a hint of its true nature. This may also be the case if you have already eaten it. However, this picture didn’t come out particularly well so you can’t see the indistinct dark brown/black bits which float about unrestrained and affix themselves to the edges of the container. So thank me. A responsible web-log-keeper would have purchased the item, consumed it and documented the experience for the sake of journalism. However, I’m no journalist and I reserve the right to delude myself that this is something other than what is popularly, unfortunately, regarded as a “blog.” I’m not going to spend my own money on something weird just because

Oh dear. I’m almost out of toilet paper.