White chocolate. Hey, I don't know what you were expecting when you opened this particular blog (notice I used the second person, as if someone would actually find this thing among the millions of other blogs written by people with so little to do that they share the types of things that otherwise are too insignificant to share in the annual Christmas letter). This is not one of those blogs that open with how I got up that day, whether or not I awoke with the morning erection only to waste it once again with an emptying of my bladder, and what kind of coffee I happen to drink (which I don't. Drink coffee, that is. Because I do drink. Oh yes.)

I am writing this as if no one will ever see it (excuse me, when did you come in?), in a literary vacuum, because in space, no one can hear you rant unless you do it in front of the Hubble Telescope, which can quite possibly read your lips (and at $20 billion or whatever it cost, it better be able to do that in addition to creating) those pretty screensavers.

So I repeat: white chocolate. What the hell is up with white chocolate? Who got the great idea that removing the cocoa improved nature's most perfect substance? Why don't we just erase the blue from the sky? How about taking the wetness out of water? Why don't we just strip every tree out of the Brazilian rainforest? Wait, we're doing that. But it still doesn't excuse white chocolate, which makes about as much sense as unsweetened Kool Aid. Or those Oreos with the red cream, which taste the same as the regular Oreos except that when your kid vomits because you don't have the nads to tell him 32 Oreos are enough for one day, its utter redness stands in stark contrast to the beige carpet and even a sandblaster won't remove it. Stupid red Oreos.

I could take white chocolate as a stand-alone product, limited to only those shut-in pasty-faced no-taste toothless geeks with the stupid "I'm from Arkansas" grins whom you see only on Tuesdays as they stand in the back of the local 7-11 next to the drink machines where they anxiously await the delivery of the new Slurpee flavor to go with Coke (and it's ALWAYS cherry, but they're still surprised). But then white chocolate spread. To Oreos (no problem, see above). To Hershey bars. To Nestle Crunch.

But then came the most unholiest twist of all. You can now find white chocolate Reeses Peanut Butter cups, bastardizing the One True Candy. Maybe we are only a test market (living near Phoenix, land of sun-dried retirees, we are often used as a test market because when someone dies, old age is naturally assumed). But this is not a product that should have gotten to the shelves. This is a product that should not have ever been allowed off the drawing board. And anyone who buys this crap that is no better than chocolate-factory sweepings needs to be held accountable. Maybe to the point of sharing a jail cell with that geek at the back of the 7-Eleven, who surely will earn jail time when, one day, the Slurpee guy adds pina colada to the other stainless steel barrel, causing said geek to want to go berzerk. (I was not going to say "berzerk," I was going to say "John Malvo on someone's ass," but on my first post, I do not want to come across insensitive.

That's it. I need a beer. And a good excuse to write Reeses and ask them when we are going to see a black vanilla peanut butter cup.