when food plays pretend

Wednesday, January 18, 2006

05. Not all dogs go to heaven

My bologna has a first name, it's O-M-F-G!

But properly, it's called Cheese Hotdog, yet another ill-conceived way to keep kids out of their parents' hair and doped up on MSG. Slightly more expensive than Lechon Manok Crackers but just as cruel, this un-meat un-hotdog features a vaguely phallic mascot being hugged (or taken down ) by an MSG junkie and has a very optimistic tagline: ito ang gusto ko! (this is what I want!) Why a child would actually want something like this is beyond me. To escape from the stress and pressures of life, I suppose.

Aside from the cylindrical shape of this marginally edible snack, nothing about it resembles anything even approaching the neighborhood of the ballpark of anything related to cheese or hotdogs. Snacking on packing foam would probably be a more enjoyable experience than having to eat three of these things.

Still, the existence of a mascot gave me pause. He seemed a hale and hearty fellow, and he had a medal too, so he must be pretty brave, our roughly anthropomorphic representation of cheese snacks. Perhaps he served in the war and we therefore owe him our freedom, such as it is.

Plus, he had the juice to pin it directly onto his chest, so he can't be all bad. (Or all there, mentally.) That he walked around naked to frolic with little boys was the last straw though.
Not even war heroes can taste like solidified air, be loaded with chemicals and molest minors and expect to get away with it. Never mind that the boy seems to enjoy, nay, want it more than life itself. Children shouldn't always get what they want anyway.

You deserve a circle of hell all to yourself, Cheese Hotdog.


Blogger Drakulita said...

Found this link:

11:09 PM


Post a Comment

<< Home