I stood on the second floor at a local grocery store the other day. I couldn't find the corn starch section so I did what any normal, rational person would and went up there with a pair of binoculars to look for it. Small items in a big store are a bitch to locate.
As I looked down below I felt a power surge overcome me. Like Mussolini shouting at the Italians promising the resurrection of the Roman Empire. And logically, what better way to kick off that promise of grandeur than attacking Ethiopia, right?
Right then I realized my calling is to shout directives at people. Minions all of them. I can stand on top all day saying things like, "You! Rotate the god dang, bloody Sicilian oranges!" "Toi, bouge ton cris de queu!" You have to picture me armed with a megaphone. "Hey, Mrs. Shopper, I'm gonna have to charge you for tasting that Muscat grape!"
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I saw a bag of chips. Popchips they were caled. Part of its marketing hook is that "they're not baked or fried." They're, well, popped.
Not baked or fried? It keeps getting better and better. If we keep maintain the all natural kick at this pace we'll soon be buying a potato in a sac with some flavoring.
I'd call it Pochipsac!
All natural! All real! Straight from earth to you!
Testimonials:
"It's great! I can still taste the dirt!" Cindy, Nantucket.
"Yeah, dirt and honey dijon make for a strange but satisfying mix!" Harry, Sherbrooke.
"Who needs baked chips when I can get just it the potato raw! Jalapeno mayannoise dark espresso is my fave!" Anonymous, somewhere.
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