Re: OT: New England Lemmings and The Herd Mentality

[chris () blask org]

--- On Mon, 9/7/09, rackow () mcs anl gov <rackow () mcs anl gov> wrote:

> Hmmm, hard to say.  There are lots of bad burger joints, but putting it in KrispyKreme label has a whole different 
> tagging. That would probably mean really big, over-advertised large chain serving a product that really isn't all 
> that good. 

No, KrispyKreme label as in: the *ultimate* (frickin' English geeks) combination of ingredients to deliver the greatest 
negative impact to the biological system.  There is nothing healthy in a KK food item - all fruit-derivatives are 
irradiated and mixed with arsenic prior to use.

I have to admit that I have been indulging in the KK products in recent years, which is more a betrayal of self than 
would normally be the case.  I have to relate a story to impart just how bad it is for me to ever eat one of those 
accursed whitebread sugar and grease bombs:

In August 1987 I was working in Greenville, SC for a mafia money-laundering operation that involved shipping a mountain 
of pumice from Turkey to the US in rusted containers on the decks of tramp steamers (just so they'd be able to soak up 
some brine on the trip).  The containers were double the allowed weight (70,000lbs cargo), so a black camaro would lead 
each truck up from Charleston to our steel warehouse, radioing back if a weigh-station was open so the truck could get 
off the interstate and go around.  I and the redneck who had broken a beer bottle over my head the previous weekend 
(Feral Smith - I didn't even know that was a real name before this) were 2/3 finished hand-bombing the 150lb bags of 
rock out of the third and last truck of the day when this air-conditioned mirage in a Krispy Kreme uniform materialized 
at the door of the 120-degree hell-hole, brandishing a box of cool white pastry.  The mirage smiled like an Irish imp 
and said: "Would
 you boys like some Krispy Kreme doughnuts?  They're fresh fresh fresh!"

We both stared at him for a moment that seared itself into my mind and I involuntarily reached down to the ten-inch 
hunting knife I had worn on my hip since the aforementioned beer-bottle incident (seemed only fair, Feral carried a 
.357).  While my own words in response have faded in time - or perhaps spontaneously combusted due to heat and/or bile 
- they included the concepts of offer refusal as well as alternate options to be pursued, not to exclude disembowlment 
and bestial procreation.

Not missing a beat, our erstwhile doughnut deliveryman cocked his head at a jaunty angle, proffered said sweets just a 
little bit further forward, produced self-generated twinkles in both eye and eye-tooth and said: "Are you *sure*?!?!?  
They're Fresh, Fresh, FRESH!!!"  I believe I entered a fugue state and lost the next month, because next thing I knew I 
was landscaping at Greenville Tech and taking classes at night, but for nearly two decades I never touched one of the 
accursed confectioners' creations.  

It was only in early 2007 - I believe suffering from head injury or entreprenuers' fatigue - that I reached into one of 
the now-ubiquitous refrigerated KK boxes in a convenience store in Toronto and to my extreme disappointment found that 
the contents could be combined with Red Bull to achieve the fabled Nerd Nervana of unlimited overwork.

I've been in therapy ever since.  I just try to take each day as it comes, now.

-chris


      

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