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We have two types of frozen hamburger patties in our freezer. One is a 1/3-pound angus beef patty, and the other is a cheaper 1/4-pound "classic" (read: red slime) beef patty. I like the angus, but we also bought the "classic" because, as I just said, it's cheaper. The cheaper patty tastes like what you get from the concession stand at a high school football game, which is fine enough if you're in a high school football stadium. But at home, I like something with a little less salt. (The "classic" patty is probably the healthier option, as it has fewer calories, less fat, less cholesterol, and even a little bonus iron and fiber. Just don't tell my achy breaky heart that it also has nine times the sodium!)

Tonight I cooked burgers for Mom and me, and since I don't like the "classic" patties and she claims she can't taste any difference (and I'd be wasting food if I threw away perfectly good frozen meat), I made one of each, a quarter-pounder for her and a third-pounder for me. Except I put both of them on the same platter, and you can guess which one Mom grabbed for herself.

When I complained, she blamed me for the error. How was she supposed to know that they were two different types of patties? If I was a better cook, maybe the "classic" would look and taste better. If I was a better son, I would have put the correct patty on a bun and brought it to her already made like those fancy Five Guys instead of asking her to make it herself like a low-rent Fuddruckers. If I was a better person, I wouldn't even have mentioned her mistake.

Counter argument: If she had raised me better, I wouldn't be living in her basement and dining on frozen hamburgers.

I tease. Mom, I know you're reading this, so let me confess that while I truly was looking forward to eating the patty I thought would taste better, I am not and never will be mad at you for eating my hamburger. It makes me happy for you to eat what you want, and I'll always humbly take whatever leftovers you leave me. Because I don't have any other choice. You already ate the good stuff.

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Look, Wendy's, I really don't need your marketing calling people liars because they like homemade "saucy nuggs." If you want to sell low-cost, high-profit processed frozen chicken slurry pressed into Play-Doh molds and smothered in oil, fine. You have the same right as everyone else who has access to a Sysco account. Just stop casting aspersions on what I may or may not do with chicken in my own kitchen, thank you very much.

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The recent press release announcing that Subway has signed a new 10-year agreement with PepsiCo reads

"Under the new agreement, Subway restaurants will offer a consumer-driven assortment of beverages from the diverse PepsiCo beverages portfolio... ."

What the fuck is a "consumer-driven assortment of beverages"?

I don't eat at Subway when I can avoid it (which is most of the time), so I am not in any position to confirm or deny that regular Subway customers often lament their inability to wash down their fish-free tuna sandwiches with such name brands as MTN DEW®, Starry®, and Gatorade®. I mean, sure, maybe. Americans once chose a reality television star to be president, so I guess anything is possible.

As I said, I don't eat there, so it's no skln off my back that Subway has chosen to offer their guests an inferior liquid product to accompany their inferior solid products. If that's what they want, more power to them. I just have doubts that this change was "driven" by "consumers," unless the drivers and consumers in question are Subway and PepsiCo accountants.

Sales data indicates that Pepsi continues to fail its own Pepsi Challenge against Coke (which annually outsells Pepsi 4-to-3 by volume). But PepsiCo is the richer company in large part because it backs up its weaker soda sales with Yum! Brands restaurants and Frito-Lay, which have been the exclusive snack product line of Subway for at least 17 years running... and thanks to a recent agreement promoted in the same press release, will continue to be until at least 2030.

So if there was any such thing as truth in advertising, the press release should probably have read

"If you want our delightful potato chips, you have to take our lousy soda, too."

Whatever. You do you, Subway. Meanwhile, I'll be eating someplace that serves Coca-Cola.

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In news shocking to all Baby Boomers and younger, it has been widely reported that current manufacturer Ferrara Candy has decided to discontinue Fruit Stripe Gum, thereby once-and-for-all answering the question: no, we will not still feed you when we are 64.

Sixty-four years is a long time, but Ferrara Candy has only been selling Fruit Stripe for a small fraction of that time. Prior to 2012, Ferrara Candy was known as Farley & Sathers Candy, which itself was only founded in 2002 and bought the pre-existing Fruit Stripe brand from Hershey Foods in 2003. Hershey only had Fruit Stripe for about a year; they bought it in 2001 from Nabisco, which had acquired it in a 1981 merger with E.R. Squibb Company, which got their hands on it in a 1968 merger with Beech-Nut Life Savers who had introduced it in 1960.

(For more fun information on American corporation brand hi-jinks through history, I encourage you to visit the online archive of the United States Patent and Trademark Office, which retired their old TESS [Trademark Electronic Search System] last year for a more modern and easier to use but less acronymically friendly "cloud-based trademark search system" [CBTSS? Blech.] )

As has been the trend in recent beloved-but-unprofitable food brands being killed off by one corporate parent only to spring back to life under another (see: Hostess Twinkies and Necco Wafters), I expect that this media brouhaha will lead to continued life for Fruit Stripe. In fact, as of January 10, there is already a pending request at the US Patent Office for a new trademark just registered by Iconic Candies, a company dedicated to continuing discontinued "classic brands" like Bar None (discontinued by Hershey in 1997) and Creme Savers (discontinued by M&M/Mars in 2011).

Anyway, while we await zombie Fruit Stripe's inevitable return, in tribute to its nostalgic greatness, I offer a page from my personal comic book collection in which I demonstrated my 4-year-old's love of brightly artificial-colored, briefly artificially-flavored chewing gum by helping brand mascot Yipes the zebra navigate a maze of marketing Q&As.

I remember really loving the colorful zebra stripes more than the actual gum
from The Friendly Ghost, Casper, July 1980, No. 211

(Disclaimer: I might have cheated.)

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Once upon a time, they called it the Blockbuster Bowl. However, corporate America being fickle and football bowl committees being greedy, it has since been sponsored by Carquest, MicronPC, Mazda, Champs Sports, Russell Athletic, Camping World, and Cheez-It (which had previously sponsored a different bowl now sponsored by the mortgage lender Guaranteed Rate). In 2023, the new tenant is Pop-Tarts. What makes the Pop-Tarts Bowl significant isn't the string of consumer product sponsor changes but its weird connection to America's real favorite pastime: eating.

A few years ago, Duke's Mayonnaise bought the rights to turn the annual Continental Tire / Meineke Car Care / Belk Bowl into the Duke's Mayo Bowl. Duke's big, attention-getting decision was to replace the bucket of Gatorade traditionally dumped on the head of the winning coach with a giant jar of mayonnaise. It's exactly as gross as it sounds. When I see it, all I can think is, "Oh, those poor eggs!" (For the record, I never think, "Oh, those poor gators!" Gators got it coming.)

Pop Tarts saw Duke's made-for-TikTok moment and raised. Their mascot this year is a Frosted Strawberry Pop-Tart which emerged at midfield in a giant toaster. Throughout the game, the Pop-Tart posed for photos with children, danced with cheerleaders, and made finger guns at the officials. Then, when the game was over, he climbed back in his toaster only to slide out of a slot in the side... where the winning team ate him.

[To be clear, the players ate a giant Pop-Tart decorated to look identical to the mascot. At least I really, really hope that's what happened. I'd link here to a video of the event in question, but that's exactly what Kellogg's wants me to do.]

I'll be the first to admit that I like both football and Pop-Tarts as much as the next red-blooded American. (My favorite is Brown Sugar and Cinnamon, but the box in my pantry is Frosted Cherry because they are very marginally less malnutritious.) And I regularly eat barbecue at restaurants with smiling pig mascots on their napkins. But if you spend four quarters giving your mascot a personality, I'm not okay with putting it in the oven and eating it, even if you claim "it wants it" — that's a mental illness, Kellogg's! I'm a red-blooded American, not a fairy tale witch in a gingerbread house.

Eat up kids. And clean your plate. Ethiopia is full of starving cannibals.

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Happy 7th birthday, Audrey!

Mom decided against candles; they're not edible

Audrey never cared for unnecessary decoration anyway; she's International style all the way

Sorry, I don't have an "after" photo. You'll just have to imagine a white plate licked clean.

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I go out of my way to be kind of a dick to people in the hope that they'll leave me alone. I do this even to my own family, especially my Mother's sister, Kelley.

My aunt has a very soft spot in her heart for dumb animals, which is why she has a house full of cats and tolerates a handyman who is literally too stupid to use a shovel effectively. Because I'm so much trouble, Kelley had this handman bury her most recently deceased cat. But the location he selected turned out to be full of tree roots, so he dug only a shallow hole and covered the shoebox coffin with a thin layer of dirt and a paving stone.

Can you guess where this is going?

In the night, another animal detected the decaying corpse's scent and dug it up. But not fully. The excavator didn't have the strength to remove the whole cat from the box. Kelley later discovered the dead cat's head emerging from the ground, like something from Pet Semetery. (And yes, there were maggots involved.)

Desperate for help, she bit the bullet and called me. So my strategy of being a dick ultimately resulted in my having to dig up a dead cat and re-bury it properly. In the rain.

As a reward for my hard work, my aunt gave me this:


Please click for sound.

Lesson learned. From now on, I'll be twice the asshole!

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Dining outside is done at your own risk.

Despite their utter refusal to take responsibility for all flying insects — for shame! — I still recommend Sunday brunch at Bistro Hilary in Senoia, Georgia.

Happy Birthday, Mom!

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With demand like this, maybe there doesn't need to be a sale on

Is there a blizzard coming? Are the cows on strike? Sometimes less is not more.

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October lawn art is a real treat:

Everyone's favorite Halloween candy

I'm a little worried that people will interpret this one to mean that we'll be giving away candy this year, which we absolutely will not. (Mom and I both hide behind curtains whenever anyone rings our doorbell.) I think my solution will be to put an empty bowl on the porch beside a sign that says "Take as many as you like."

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To be continued...

 

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