The Cheeto Blues

Craig and I were scarfing down a bag of Cheetos the other day (marijuana was not involved at all; it was simply two men enjoying their favorite processed, fake-cheese-dusted, puffed snack food).

"Dude, these taste like shit," I lamented.

"Even worse," Craig said, "they taste like paper."

We racked our brains for seconds, trying to decipher this Riddle of the Bland Cheetos.

"I've always loved Cheetos," Craig continued, now near tears. "I don't get it... They used to be so good, so cheesy, so crunchy... I don't understand! Am I just getting old?!"

"Well Craig, you are getting old," I replied, reminding him that we'd celebrated his 35th birthday only a week prior, "but I think I've discovered the perpetrator of this crime."

And right there, in bold blue print on the front of the bag, for the whole junk-food-loving world to see, were the words "0 GRAMS OF TRANSFAT."

And with that revelation, we knew something had to be done. When two grown men can't even enjoy a bag of man-made starches, empty calories, and fake cheese without being reminded how harmful it is to our bodies, then it is high time for a revolt.

This Disappearing TransFat Debacle is preposterous! Who took it from us?? Why?? Were our snacks not perfect the way they were?!?

I'll fix this outrage, Craig (it's the least I can do, since I did forget to give you a birthday present). I will not rest until our junk food once again clogs our arteries; I won't stop until TransFat is liberated (or, until I dress up in a flight suit and pose for pictures on an aircraft carrier beneath a banner that reads "Mission Accomplished").

What the heck is TransFat?? Good question. I'm not a nutritionist, so I cannot answer that... But I am a fat slob, and I do know that our lives were just fine and dandy when TransFat was so deliciously intertwined with our every meal.

And now TransFat has been burgled from right under our noses! We, the unsuspecting public, lost our focus; we lost our desire to be as obese and grotesque as we wanna be, and the Organic Granola Heads have (temporarily) prevailed. In our quest to be something we're not (namely, "healthy"), we lost all of the taste, all of the flavor, all of the joy from our most beloved foods.

Now there is Zero TransFat in our bagels; Zero TransFat in our peanut butter and our jelly; and Zero TransFat in our Beef Stroganoff Hamburger Helper.

This is unacceptable!

Who decided that TransFat was bad for us? Can we, as adults, not determine for ourselves what we should and should not eat? We've been merrily fattening up for hundreds of years (or at least since Frito Lay was founded) and millions of us are satisfied being plump, dumb, and happy (and at risk for heart attacks and strokes).

And now some bleeding-heart-liberal Chicken Little In A Lab Coat tells us that we can no longer have TransFat, all because he stuffed 5 gallons of the slop into a mouse's rectum and the poor thing died on the spot?!?

I'd die too, if someone shoved 17 times my body weight of TransFat up my ass.

"Hold still, little guy, just one more serving up in there.... Ahhhh! He's dead!! TransFat will kill you, too!!"

Powers That Be, please give us back our TransFat.

Reinstate TransFat into our Cheetos, or risk a mutiny of unparalleled proportions. We are husky and hungry; we are stubborn and stout. We demand that our snacks leave us just as porcine and portly as they did long ago!

As a Mexican Revolutionary hero said long ago, "It's better to die on my feet than eat crappy, flavorless Cheetos!!"

Viva TransFat!!