Warning...Reading this blog could be Hazardous

Everyone knows about the absurdities of overly protective liability labeling. Things like warning: Hot coffee can scald. Do not remove label under penalty of Federal law, this program is authorized for private use only...consumer/customer/attendee assumes all risk due to injury from using product. It is quite literally, a sign of our times.

As common sense becomes akin to 8 track tapes, records, non HDLCD TV's, dial up and roatary land line phones, I wonder what future labels will include.

First, labels will be upgraded to have computer chips, such that they can flash various label warnings in perpetuity, kind of like the scroll feed that runs along the bottom of news channels.

They'll flash in red when a person picks up the jar of peanut butter: Warning, Warning, danger, PRODUCT CONTAINS PEANUTS, Known to cause problems for some people. If you are one of these people, by merely touching this jar, you assume all responsibility for your own welfare with respect to this product. If you live with one of these people, put the jar back on the shelf NOW!

A retina scan will verify whether or not you can purchase the product without incurring excessive risk. Those who purchase the peanut butter anyway, will find that the jar self vacumn seals to prevent possible contamination and after 30 seconds of being in the new owner's possession, disintegrates.

This sort of technology may seem far fetched, but consider our society's desire to be free from all mishap, combined with the government's desire to alleviate us of all suffering and surplus legal tender. By simply integrating existing technology into the scanner, our society can eliminate obsesity by prohibiting the purchase of transfat laden goodies by anyone who's body mass index exceeds federal regulations.

"This is the Food Police. Put the Ho Ho's Back! And the Hagendize, and the Salt and Vinegar chips. Now."

Then a black market will pop up, selling forbidden sweets at outrageous prices, as corporations work desperately to convince us that Snackwells taste just as good as Oreos, and congress passes legislation to make the truth in advertisement labels on food use unappetizing adjectives. A 12 piece bucket of KFC orriginal, for example, would be labeled thusly: Transfat artery clogging Bucket o'Death. Hershey's Bar: Diabetes Here I Come. Coca-cola: Sugar, Caffeine, and Chemistry.

Will we swallow such nonsense? Sure. For the good of the children. For their future, we must eliminate our carb footprint now. Maybe I can get some Carb credits as an investment, sort of a dietary indulgence. Like Weight watcher's points? Can I redeem them for a Papa John's Thin Crust Supreme Pizza, hold the olives, extra cheese?


Just some food for thought as restuarants race to tell us, "We've selflessly eliminated all unhealthy items from our menu. Sure we've had to raise prices and the food won't taste anywhere near as good as at those rogue greasy spoons that are holding out, just across the border in that unhealthy County but don't worry, we'll get to them soon. Come on in and eat healthy.

We love our customers enough to Nag.

The Cost of Sweet Nothings

The News is screaming these days about the price of food.

It seems to have increased by a third.

I haven’t noticed, not because I don’t shop, or because our budget hasn’t been hit.

I haven’t noticed, because for the past five years, whatever food I bring home gets ripped through by a horde of happy raccoons within five minutes of darkening our doorway.

So I’m aware that it cost more, for the price of air.

The other day, I spent two hours at the store. I had brought a list. I had planned a menu. All the organizer/budgetary/helpful how to manage your family type books and web sites suggest using such things. I had even used coupons. I felt like a good mom. I unloaded and then went to pick up my little darlings from Mother’s Day Out and school.

When I got home, there was a need for a double diaper change which took me out of commission for a few minutes, followed by a phone call and a frantic search for the Spanish to English Dictionary for one’ child’s homework. I returned to the kitchen to prepare snack.

You know that 70’s commercial about the American Indian crying by the side of the freeway at the sight of pure devastation?

Green apples in refrigerator –gone. Well, okay, that’s alright, at least it was healthy. Sure I planned to hand those out the next day for school lunches but…hey…the apples are still here, on the table. Five of them have bites out of them. Who was the apple eater? Goldilocks had sampled the fruit until she found the one that was JUST RIGHT. Then there was the little matter of the two children opening a cereal box, and a fourth making two peanut butter and banana (Nuts, that’s my back up plan for tomorrow’s fruit in lunch), sandwiches.

Lest one think I only deal in healthy issues, I checked the closet. The box of five sets of Zebra Cakes? Open. Down to two. The Chips Ahoy, the only processed cookie my middle son eats? A sleeve is missing.

OKAY. I do not use my inside voice. WHO HAS EATEN? I wait for responses. It seems, each of them have now had a snack, they just each chose different ones, leaving six separate foraging trails for me to follow. I declare war. I threaten major chaos. I promise a semester worth of snack baggies filled with nothing but raisins and celery if I don’t see some major clean up detail. I promise to purchase freeze dried space bar ice cream and store brand beef jerky instead.

They think I’m bluffing.

So I remind them, I write fiction. I write articles. I could make a query to a magazine…Frugal Mom or some such on how to economize during this fiscally turbulent time. We’ll live on oatmeal, pasta and eggs for a month. It will make a great piece, feeding a family of ten on just ten dollars a day…what a hook…

There is a flurry of cleaning activity and a few verbal commitments to follow the menu schedule. Still, there is a seventh child I haven’t seen yet. I take the remaining fruits out to the second fridge to keep them safe until the next day. There is my four year old in pure chocolate bliss, having found the Double Stuff Oreos and done just that.

“These are my favors Mom.” He says in a goey voice. There is a layer of top soil cookie crumbs on his hands and face. He offers me a cookie.

Looking at the refrigerator, I eat the cookie and take another. It’s very expensive rare air, but it still tastes good.

For more tastey mental treats, try http://www.humor-blogs.com/!