Snapshots from Green Victoria (tedwords) wrote,
Snapshots from Green Victoria
tedwords

Down with Woodies!



Okay, I'm going to take on an issue that no one else seems to have the courage to confront: why the hell are THESE hideous instruments of torture still allowed to exist???

No, I'm not talking about the yummy chocolate and vanilla ice cream that you see in the photo. That was cool and delicious and really hit the spot after a long day outside, shilling product at a press event.

I'm talking about the weapon of mass irritation placed on top of the ice cream, the thing that you're supposed to use to shovel the frozen dairy goodness into your gullet. The freaking wooden spoon.

Oh, I know. I know why they're still around. People think that they're quaint and cute, and a reminder of a halcyon childhood filled with barbie dolls and board games, and an ice cream man that would travel down the street at a snail's pace every afternoon at one o'clock. The ice cream truck would play a Pied Piper's song as it chugged on down the street, and children would line up at every street corner, to plunk down a dollar and pick out popsicles and Italian ices, drumsticks and fudgicles, crabby patties and...these things.

No, seriously. Is it me? It's probably me, I know. I do tend to be a little dramatic about these things. But ever since I was a kid, I've absolutely dreaded the feel of the little wooden spoon against my tongue. I always try as hard as I can to avoid contact with it. I always place the spoon delicately atop my teeth, a nervous dance, and then scrape the ice cream off using my upper row of incisors. But invariably, somewhere along the way, that god-damned wooden spoon comes into contact with my tongue or lower lip, scrapes against it, and suddenly it's as if I took a piece of sandpaper and decided to chew on it.

There's just something about the feel of scratchy, cheap wood against one's most sensitive of body parts. It's like trying to lick an icicle in below zero weather-it feels unnatural and painful, and causes my whole body to wiggle about in a spasm of ugh.

And it's not as if, in this day and age, they couldn't invent a plastic version of the crappy little wooden spoon. I bet it'd even be cheaper, and would save on the destruction of a few trees. See, that's the tree hugger in me speaking. I'll hug trees, sure I will. I just don't want to feel them against my tongue, as if we were engaged in a sloppy french kiss.

I probably shouldn't say this. It could be used against me, someday. But honestly, this would be the only instrument of torture that the Bush administration would need to use against me. Forget water boarding. Just scrape a little wooden spoon up and down against the inside of my mouth and you'd have me revealing shocking state secrets in seconds flat.

So please, join me, won't you? Join me in banning the little wooden spoon from existance! Eliminate this scourge of humanity from ice cream trucks, cafeteria, and amusement parks everywhere! I dream of a day where our children are free to eat chocolate and vanilla ice cream, without living in the fear that they might suffer from a horrible wood scraping.

Or, even worse...

A splinter.

(Insert dramatic organ music here.)

Can you imagine a world, free from wooden spoons? I can. And I think that there are other people who share my dream, too. Let's rise up, and fight this insidious demon, before it's too late. Somebody, think of the children! Let's give them what they deserve--ice cream without the agony!

(This has been a paid political advertisement of the "NoCompromises for President" campaign...)
Tags: trivial pursuits
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