I was chowing down on a bag of Cracker Jacks this past weekend, and in between glutenous, sticky handfuls of carmel-coated popcorn goodness I took a moment to admire the bold statement “Prize Inside” emblazoned on the packaging.
Per Webster, a “prize” is defined as:
1 : something offered or striven for in competition or in contests of chance
2 : something exceptionally desirable
3 archaic : a contest for a reward : competition
Wow, prize inside, huh? I find this to be an odd turn of phrase. What did I do to earn this “prize”? I mean, it wasn’t like I ran a sub-four minute mile, solved the Goldbach conjecture, or provided indisputable proof of life after death. All I did was open a bag of junk food and bam, I came into possession of a prize. Talk about the decline of expectations in a generation suffering from a severe case of entitlement-itis.
To satiate my unfulfilled need for instant gratification I think I’ll hit up the cereal boxes in my pantry next. I’m sure there are more “prizes” to be had there that can stroke my ego and give me the feeling of accomplishment in my otherwise drab existence…
Note: Don’t believe for a moment that the “prizes” inside the modern day Cracker Jack are “exceptionally desirable”. They are a pale imitation of what once was. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been informed by these “prizes” that George Washington was our first president. Give me a good ol’ fashioned plastic kaleidoscope or even a few water soluble tattoos, and then we’ll talk…
Note 2: This will be my last post this week. I’ll be taking Friday off to go camping in Anza Borrego. Hope everyone has a great weekend!