It’s that time of the year again. No, not the most wonderful time of the year, although I do find it socially acceptable to start playing Christmas music in July. Perry Como is timeless. I’m not referring to back to school either, because to kidless me that just means a giant pain in the ass getting stuck behind school buses making me late for work.
You know what I’m talking about…Fucking Pumpkin Spice Everything season.
It’s bad enough that Starbucks is responsible for destroying forests and not supporting fair trade and livable wages for farmers. THey started this disgusting trend and it spread faster than avian flu on unsuspecting gourd haters everywhere. I hate coffee, and I hate vegetables, so this fascination escapes me.
The concept reminds me of when I was a child and my father grew a bumper crop of zucchini. Zucchinis? Which neither me nor my four siblings would eat. So mom (aka Miss Daisy) tried novel ways to trick us into eating it because wasting food is a sin. (Tip: If you don’t want it to go to waste, maybe don’t grow it then. Let’s look at who really caused this problem. Or you should have donated it all to a soup kitchen if you were so concerned about hungry people.)
We’d come home from school to the intoxicating smell of fresh banana bread cooling on the counter. Because we were such model children, she rewarded us by adding chocolate chips. And then we spit it out in unison, as we bit into a hunk of zucchini she didn’t shred finely enough. She knew we would realize plain zucchini bread would smell differently. You have to hand it to Miss Daisy. She could have succeeded in poisoning Fidel Castro back in the 60s with such sinister planning. And then JFK would have stayed alive. But I digress…
My grandfather used to have an old-fashioned ice cream maker. Miss Daisy convinced him to make zucchini ice cream, which was disgusting. Gramps also had a theory that everything tasted better with Canadian whisky added to it. Not zucchini ice cream. I saw something similar on “Iron Chef” once. The original Japanese Iron Chef, where they did things like slaughter a live octopus on tv, not the lame ass American Bobby Flay knockoff. On Iron Chef they made asparagus ice cream with fish scales for sprinkles, which was just ridiculous because everyone knows rainbow sprinkles taste better.
But this pumpkin spice nonsense isn’t even real pumpkin. It’s artificial pumpkin flavor and nutmeg. It doesn’t even benefit pumpkin farmers. It just pads the wallets of food chemists creating carcinogenic pumpkin flavor with Orange Dye #72. It’s really the nutmeg conglomerate behind this consumer scam. Or Monsanto. Monsanto is evil enough to poison us with pumpkin spice. Perhaps it’s just another way for them to market Round-Up.
Ironically, I live in the so-called “Nutmeg State”, the most pathetic of state nicknames. I’m sure we got teased at the Constutional Convention in Philadelphia. I don’t know why Connecticut is known as the Nutmeg State. I’ve never seen anyone growing nutmeg here. Not that I’d know what nutmeg looks like. It’s entirely more feasible that this is the Nutmeg State because of the soccer move. This is the land of soccer moms. Lots of kids playing soccer here in suburbia. Except for my family. Not enough violence for us.
If you have to mask the taste of pumpkin with spice, you shouldn’t be eating it. And if you want nutmeg so badly, buy a jar and add it to your own food. Don’t subject the rest of us to your weird spice fetish. You don’t see me running around the grocery store adding dill weed to everything.
Nothing is safe from the taint of this disgusting synthetic creation. It’s ruined Oreos. Vodka. Peeps. Lindt Truffles. Cheerios. Beer. Hershey Kisses. Entenmann’s muffins. Milano cookies. Beer. Kale chips. Talenti Gelato. English muffins. Kahlua. I’m waiting for the Pizza Hut Pumpkin Spice Stuffed Crust pizza.
You know what pumpkin is good for? I give a tablespoon to my dogs when they are constipated. Works like a charm.
Kind of like Starbucks coffee.