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Monday, April 07, 2003

The Tastykake Krisis

I have found the holy grail of confectionary combinations. By watching sixteen hours of Iron Chef, as well as by searching high and low through cuisines the world across, I have happened upon what is, both at first blush and now upon further inspection, the absolute perfect balance of all the senses. It came not in sushi, as I had previously conjectured, or even in the same hemisphere. Nay, it comes from Tastykake and their portal to divinity on Hunting Park Avenue, in Philadelphia.

The Tastykake(tm) Chocolate Iced Tasty-Klair pie has renewed my notion of what happiness is. No longer must I toil to find truth in the world, nor to seek inner peace with the universe - Nirvana is mine at last. After eating six in one hour, I could feel my soul alight as I drifted into the arms of God - or, as these pesky "doctors" of medicine have termed it, insulin shock. They are just jealous that all their years of study in the physiology of humanity has left them jaded to the sweet feeling one gets when Tastykake after Tastykake enters the bloodstream. I feel no remorse for anyone who can call such a rapture "massive kidney failure." Feh, maybe they should just take the analytic knife which makes them believe I need dialysis and gouge out the next Galileo's eyes so he cannot view the horizon of human destiny.

Ladies and gentlemen, I have seen the next step in human evolution, and it is the Tasty-Kalir pie. To this end, I tried ordering two cases of creme filled goodness, consuming fully a third of my monthly food budget, however, as the God imperiled Job to test the bredth of his faith, so has Charles Pizzi, CEO of Tastykake, tested my desire for his flaky goodness - for they deliver not to Maryland, Delaware, New Jersey or Pennsylvania. I therefore sought out an agent to join me in this crusade of human potential. It took time, but in Reston, VA, I contacted such a brave adventurer who has agreed to accept delivery of the Ark of the New Covannent, as I am wont to call the package containing my pies, and allow me to acquire them at such a time as class does not interfere.

I bid thee fairwell - my spirits are high as I embark on this epic journey, but succeed or fail, I shall not see many of you again until you, too, ride the high tide of the sugar coma.

cranked out at 12:02 PM | |

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