Today at the grocery store I came upon a product that caused me a great deal of distress: Ernest Hemingway Marinades. (Though technically not a sweetsies, this is a topic too important to ignore.) Initially I was furious: How dare they slap the face of the greatest writer in history on some cheesy, sodium-filled supermarket sauce? And it's not even like the proceeds are going to some camp for sick children. However, the more I thought about it, the more it made sense. I bet that after a long day of hunting wild boar in Africa, there's nothing that pissed off Hemingway more than lacking the perfect seasoning for his kill (or a fifth of whiskey). Somewhere at a bullfight in heaven, he's smiling.
Saturday, October 4, 2008
the old man and the sauce
Today at the grocery store I came upon a product that caused me a great deal of distress: Ernest Hemingway Marinades. (Though technically not a sweetsies, this is a topic too important to ignore.) Initially I was furious: How dare they slap the face of the greatest writer in history on some cheesy, sodium-filled supermarket sauce? And it's not even like the proceeds are going to some camp for sick children. However, the more I thought about it, the more it made sense. I bet that after a long day of hunting wild boar in Africa, there's nothing that pissed off Hemingway more than lacking the perfect seasoning for his kill (or a fifth of whiskey). Somewhere at a bullfight in heaven, he's smiling.
Thursday, October 2, 2008
soft-core corn
There’s no real reason for this post. I was just struck by a bountiful display of Brach’s when I was running errands the other day. It reminded me of how fleeting candy corn season is, and how glad I’ll be to look back on this photo in about a month when stacks of chocolate-covered marshmallow Santas replace my beloved Autumn Mix. Let us not forget, my friends, that the good old days are now.
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