Sunday, May 22, 2011

Kiss My Ass, Baby Carrot

Trust not the false prophet
You know what baby carrot?  You suck!  Wanna know what makes me feel that way?  How much time you got?

First off, you have no taste at all.  None.  I'm not sure what the people in charge of carrots did to transform a sweet, crunchy and otherwise delightful root vegetable into a perfectly flavorless, dowel-shaped imposter, but it's about time someone called you on it.  You may have some crunch left in you, but your utter lack of gustatory appeal makes chewing an exercise in tedium.  You're not good plain, not good in salads, not good cooked...about the only hope you have is to be dipped into some obnoxious goo.  Onion dip.  Ranch dressing, god help us.  

Secondly, how do you manage to maintain such a blindingly bright orange?  Any carrot I've ever peeled starts to oxidize around the edges after a while, but YOU, baby carrot, you come peel-free and ready to eat.  What foul chemical do they spray once you've been under the knife?  You're like the Cher of carrots.  If Kenny Rogers was a carrot, he'd be a baby carrot.

Am I done?  Not by a long shot.  Because you're like a microcosm of everything that's wrong with this country.  It doesn't take much effort to peel and eat a carrot.  We're talking a minute of work, maximum.  Even chopping up a bunch of carrots doesn't tax our time enough to make a tasteless travesty like you worthwhile.  But you make it sooo easy to open the bag and munch away.  Oh, I'm sure you have some trace quantities of beta keratin, and I'm sure you think you're keeping our kids healthy as you shove that bag of Lays out of the lunch bag.  You know what I say to that, baby carrots?  I say fuck you. Yes, fuck you, baby carrot. You're carrot in name only, a carrot stripped of all inherent virtues.  You make a mockery of nutrition.  You enable legions of young people for whom separating a carrot from its skin has become--like spelling out an entire word--an insufferable chore.  Given the choice, I'll take the chips every time.

A real carrot, now that's a wonderful thing--loaded with vitamins and great for the eyes.  I love a big, fat hunk of carrot in a homemade stew.  I love what some shredded carrot does for a tossed salad.  Carrot cake?  Scrumptious.  Carrot juice?  Nutritious and delicious.  But you, baby fucking carrot, you make such a convenient substitute that you are ruining carrot-based delicacies throughout the land.  Though you pose as some sort of time-saving savior--just microwave some baby carrots for supper--you are in fact a false idol, no better than the worst TV dinner.

So, that's it, baby carrot.  I hate you.  I hate everything about you.  I know that when the Rapture does happen, the gates of heaven to you will be sealed.

nwb

2 comments:

Kid Shay said...

Your rage is a beacon of light to me. Like a lighthouse, you will guide me to safe harbor.

I couldn't help the maritime metaphor because Pirates 4 was so, so good.

McBone said...

Was it?! I was scared, but now I'm so there!

nwb