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Twinkie The Kid Rides West for the Last Round Up

Twinkie The Kid Rides West for the Last Round Up

Sure, we could make scapegoats of striking bakery workers, blaming them for your demise. On the other hand, the hedge funds that own you made mighty poor decisions.

Owners focused on investor profits to the exclusion of upgrades in manufacturing technology, equipment, and competitive sales strategies which would have helped  maintain your market share.

And when the going got tough, your company determined its employees would have to shoulder major sacrifices to evade corporate bankruptcy by conceding to slashed pensions, reduced wages and costlier health care plans.

No wonder you’re headed for the last round up, Twinkie The Kid. I’ve never met a union member willing to offer up hard earned pay as charity to correct the blunders of upper management.

Twinkie The Kid Will Ride Again

Listen, Twinkie, since your word is your brand, you may yet ride shotgun, triumphantly escaping  the smoldering remains of Hostess in search of gastronomic adventure. Sadly, Ho Ho‘s and Devil Dogs may not have the strength to follow you out of this battle. However, I predict your brand will come under the leadership of corporate young guns with a smart business model.

You’ll return stronger than ever, sashaying into culinary horizons with healthier ingredients, fewer calories, and splashy designs that radiate eye-popping  marketing zazz. Who knows? You might even boast actual nutritional value. You’ll retake your old status roosting on store shelves, standing tall among premier junk foods instead of hiding out by the sour dough pretzels. And while I may not recognize the new you, I’m grateful for your contribution to my life, Kid.

Eulogy to Junk Food’s Fallen Hero

Thank you, Twinkie The Kid, for being there when excessive alcohol alone failed to fill the bottomless pit excavated by my emotional dysfunction. You drew a line in the bleached flour, and took a righteous, cream-filled stand against macrobiotic diets, low fat dairy and raw foods. Instinctively you reckoned that only something truly unnatural would have the power to cure beer munchies and self-indulgent angst.

Thank you for your lasting freshness, made possible through cellulose gum, Polysorbate 60, and calcium sulfate (a food-grade equivalent of plaster of Paris), ingredients commonly used in sheet rock, shampoo, and rocket fuel.

Every box carried an unwritten guarantee of infinite shelf life, making you the food of choice in a post-apocalyptic Zombie Land. The colors of your golden sponge cake and creamy center never faded because they derived from anolyn, benzine, and other petrochemicals. Every bite made me feel like an astronaut.

Thank you for teaching me poor dietary choices have consequences. Nevertheless, I regret that I must now scratch deep fried Twinkies off my bucket list.

Twinkies Taught Us Moderation

Once in a dog’s age a man just wants to feast on factory-refined vittles. Maybe he remembers what happened the last time he preyed upon an entire box of Twinkies, but he will not succumb to fear.  Heedless of the dangers he commits to the massive spike in blood sugar, swims in the comatose ecstasy of an oncoming biochemical crash, and endures the digestive responsibility of passing a potent laxative. These side effects only serve to strengthen his resolve to work awful hard at staying healthy through good nutrition.

He knows he’s chowing down on packaged poison and couldn’t give a damn who squawks about it. Folks who subsist on salads, soy milk, and diet drinks remain powerless to wrap their minds around such trashy intemperance. Don’t fret about them, Kid, they never appreciated you the way I do.

So how now do I fill this confectionery void? What new snack could possibly fill your vacuum sealed shoes, Twinkie? You led the pack as our ultimate choice in empty calories.

Death of a Cultural Icon and Way of Life

What treat would dare compete with your cultural impact, let alone match your ponderous list of chemical preservatives and additives? Is there another product in all of manufactured malnutrition equal to your starving carbohydrates, so cleverly packaged in a diabetic recipe of bright colors and sugary promise?

Hells bells! I feel like we as a nation have just lost a vital component defining our unique American way of life. I’m sorry; I can’t talk about this anymore. I’m getting all misty.

I hereby proclaim my unrequited love for you, Twinkie The Kid, and promise to attend your funeral! I’ll be the one at your wake sitting alone in the corner, honoring your legacy by stuffing my sorrows with a huge plate of pink Sno Balls and Zingers.

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2 comments on “Twinkie The Kid Rides West for the Last Round Up

  1. Love it, Jay! What a great chuckle to go with my extra-strong black coffee.

    • Hi Professor D,

      This is tall praise coming from one of my more smartypants pals. You should read my latest blog on creating your own Xmas rituals. I may have stepped on a few butterflies in taking a more literary look at our most advertised reason for the season.

      Hugs and suchlike,

      Jay

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