My department completed the arduous voting process to select our new super-senior historian. It came as little surprise, but the traditional historians won by a landslide. If the candidate decides to take the job, I am sure he will be a fine addition. He seemed nice enough during the interview.
I am disturbed, though, by the way the vote became a referendum on the direction of the department. Traditional history seems poised to reclaim its never lost dominance. It also makes me blue that so many of my colleagues have so much anger towards “diversity” hires.
The last couple of posts, though, have already been filled with angst and civic duty. Even I think there is such a thing as too much gravitas. So, why not direct ourselves to the most extreme mixture of camp and sugar to ever hit the shelves? No, I am not talking about Pixy-Stix© (the former reigning champion).
GayProf likes to eat when he feels low. It’s a sad state of affairs, but if I am counting calories, I will actually choose sugar over alcohol – most times. Until Adam makes good with the cookies, I needed to find other food stuffs to feel better. My local market provided the astounding Pop-Tarts© based on Hello Kitty! You can find another review of this snack item here.
We already know that GayProf can be a sucker for food that comes in pink packaging. You add onto that Hello Kitty! and I am giggling like a Japanese School Girl.
Nothing appears natural about the Kitty tart. The frosting’s color simply doesn’t occur in the wild. The top of the tart (I like using the word “tart” as many times as possible) has been coated with neon yellow stars and moons. It looks like a magical elf used the tart as a tissue. Kellogg’s had the nerve to call the tart’s filling “Meow Berry,” which they probably used because it sounds less threatening than “sugar flavored sugar with red dye number 5."
The sad part is that I actually liked them. My conscious mind said not to like them, but my weak stomach said to eat them all. Did I mention they have lots of sugar? I think I might be suffering renal failure. I might not finish this post because of the sugar coma.
No wonder the U.S. has an obesity problem. If, through the modern miracles of science, Kellogg’s can make me consume dry pasty-dough like it was filled with crack, what hope do we have? Speaking of crack, I swear by the third tart the Hello Kitty image on the box started talking to me.
We have a collective obsession with sugar and fat. If we can get those two things served together, we will pay top dollar. This seems magnified in Texas. I have been to a restaurant that served deep-fried cheesecake. I can’t make this shit up. Somebody at some point said, “Gee, I love that taste of cheesecake, but wish it involved more fat. Maybe I should wrap it in philo dough and let it rest in a little lard Jacuzzi first.” You know I ordered a piece, too.