To Newt and Mitt
It's been fun talking at you
With lively give and take
On immigration, ethics, Mideast peace
And how much you guys make
You've dominated until now
This long and boring forum
But it seems the voters like me best
Your buddy, Rick Santorum
To whatshisname:
You know that people follow me
And watch my every move
They see me being funky
And getting in my groove.
I'm known for being famous
And for dabbling in fashion,
But I won't be known as your wife
Good riddance, Kim Kardashian
To Paris Hilton and Brittney Spears
Roses are read
Ashes are gray
Do us a favor
And just stay away
Violets are blue
Prince Charming is gallant
But you two broads
Don't have any talent.
As age overtakes you
Your beauty retiring
Take comfort in knowing
That Walmart is hiring.
Wednesday, February 15, 2012
Wednesday, January 11, 2012
Bankruptcy takes the cake
OK, America, time to step up to the plate. And put a Twinkie on it.
Wonder Bread, the owners of Hostess Bakery, has filed for bankruptcy protection. Unless we do something now, it may be too late for this spongy, cream-filled piece of Americana.
If everyone in the country were to eat a Twinkie a day, we can save the company and ensure that junk food junkies won't have to switch allegiance to Little Debbie (although there's a lot to be said for Zebra Cakes).
I can't imagine a world without Twinkies. One of my earliest memories of first grade is taking my lunch to school. In my red plaid lunch box, thee would be a bologna sandwich, an apple or a banana, a red-plaid Thermos of milk which I managed to spill most days, and a twin package of Twinkies. Sometimes I'd share and swap a Twinkie for one of my friend's Hostess Cupcakes, chocolate cake and frosting with the white squiggle on top.
My education began with Hostess cakes. Twinkies, cupcakes. They were part of that healthy lunch that got me through the afternoon. Some of my classmates brought Hostess Snowballs, chocolate cakes mounds covered in white marshmallow frosting and drenched with coconut. Sometimes the frosting was pink. With Snowballs, one could "skin the cat." If one were especially skilled, one could rip the entire coconut/marshmallow coating off in one solid piece. Whether you ate it before or after you ate the cream-filled cake was a matter of personal preference.
Later on came Ding Dongs, Ho Hos, and I remember a small two-layer yellow cake with cream filling between the layers and raspberry jam and coconut on top. I forgot what they were called, but they were good.
But Twinkies are somehow special, little boats of sponge cake with that creamy center. To lose this tasty little icon would be like losing dime stores, Little LuLu comic books, Saturday morning Looney Tunes that went on for hours, and other stuff that made life fun.
Those other things are gone now, but we have a chance to do our part and save the Twinkie. C'mon America. A Twinkie a day isn't a big sacrifice. Think of it as a Twinkie a day keeps the lawyers away.
Wonder Bread, the owners of Hostess Bakery, has filed for bankruptcy protection. Unless we do something now, it may be too late for this spongy, cream-filled piece of Americana.
If everyone in the country were to eat a Twinkie a day, we can save the company and ensure that junk food junkies won't have to switch allegiance to Little Debbie (although there's a lot to be said for Zebra Cakes).
I can't imagine a world without Twinkies. One of my earliest memories of first grade is taking my lunch to school. In my red plaid lunch box, thee would be a bologna sandwich, an apple or a banana, a red-plaid Thermos of milk which I managed to spill most days, and a twin package of Twinkies. Sometimes I'd share and swap a Twinkie for one of my friend's Hostess Cupcakes, chocolate cake and frosting with the white squiggle on top.
My education began with Hostess cakes. Twinkies, cupcakes. They were part of that healthy lunch that got me through the afternoon. Some of my classmates brought Hostess Snowballs, chocolate cakes mounds covered in white marshmallow frosting and drenched with coconut. Sometimes the frosting was pink. With Snowballs, one could "skin the cat." If one were especially skilled, one could rip the entire coconut/marshmallow coating off in one solid piece. Whether you ate it before or after you ate the cream-filled cake was a matter of personal preference.
Later on came Ding Dongs, Ho Hos, and I remember a small two-layer yellow cake with cream filling between the layers and raspberry jam and coconut on top. I forgot what they were called, but they were good.
But Twinkies are somehow special, little boats of sponge cake with that creamy center. To lose this tasty little icon would be like losing dime stores, Little LuLu comic books, Saturday morning Looney Tunes that went on for hours, and other stuff that made life fun.
Those other things are gone now, but we have a chance to do our part and save the Twinkie. C'mon America. A Twinkie a day isn't a big sacrifice. Think of it as a Twinkie a day keeps the lawyers away.
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