Terrible Analogies

We had a lunch meeting today with food provided by Peking Palace of San Diego.

There we were, twenty of us crammed in a meeting room greedily shoveling plastic spoonfuls of Chinese food into our quivering maws when somebody in the back row said, “Uh, hey guys.  I just found a roach in my food.”

Instantly the room grew quiet.  For a few fleeting seconds you could hear a pin drop.

Only three times in the history of the world has a room grown so quiet so quickly:

-  During grace at the last supper
-  When the Space Shuttle Challenger exploded during takeoff
-  The moment before the O.J. Simpson verdict was read

This, my friends, was more intense than all three of those moments put together.

Slowly, en masse, we turned to face the source of the disturbing news.  Chairs squeaked and complained as we each stood up and approached the meal in question.  There, proudly perched on plastic tines, was one very dead (and very well done) cockroach.  Which wouldn’t be so bad had we ordered Beef & Broccoli & Cockroach, but alas we did not.

If you happen to enjoy marinated insects in your food, then definitely hit up Peking Palace, where their army of classically trained chefs can whip up a protein-infused Roach & Rice dish in a matter of minutes.

Be sure to tip your waiter.

No, I haven’t tried it (yet).

This has been bothering me for quite some time now.

At first I thought it was something that I was doing wrong, but after working my way through two jars of Jif peanut butter I became fed up with they way it sets up like glue after being refrigerated. What are they making this stuff out of? Horse hooves? Concrete? The bitter tears of unrequited love?

The fine people over at Skippy have the formula down. This is the way to make peanut butter. Come on Jif, enough with the spackle. I’m not using your product to repair gouges in my drywall. Lighten up on the Elmers Glue and make everyone happy.

So I was making some Macaroni & Cheese the other night…

I recently realized that the Red Baron pizza mascot bore an uncanny resemblance to one of the greatest thespians of our time…Tom Selleck.  I had grown accustomed to my weekly purchase of Red Baron’s various frozen pizzas, or rather “Tom Selleck pizzas” as the wife and I had come to know them.

Imagine my shock and dismay when I brought our squeaky shopping cart with the wobbly wheel to a stop in front of the frozen food section last week and was greeted not with the proud, stern visage of the mighty Tom Selleck, but rather with a highly stylized clichéd Manfred von Richthofen corporate wannabe impostor.

Why?  Why would you do this to us Red Baron?  Did somebody (whose initials begin with TS) complain that you were infringing on the likeness of a renowned and much revered cultural icon?  I wonder how that particular phone conversation went.

Behold the new versus old icons.  Please, brace yourselves for a shock:

New:

Old:

‘Tis a sad day in the frozen pizza world.  Sad.