One of the worst parts of being a part of a culture based on mindless, endless consumption are the hustles you have to put up with on a daily basis. Look, I’m a grown man. I walk around America with my eyes wide open. I know that someone is always trying to get a hand in my pocket. These are the rules of the game and unless I plan I on some grand Henry David Thoreau move to the hinterlands of Mongolia, this is the game I get to play. Fine. Just don’t puke on my back and tell me its warming lotion.
There is nothing fun about the fun-sized bag of M & Ms. All it is are M & Ms in a smaller pouch. If I want to have fun I might choose to go play basketball or go to a carnival or maybe sit under a tree on a sunny day. I certainly don’t plan on deriving my pleasure from a tiny bag of chocolate. Yet, those soulless vultures at the M & M Company try to convince you that eating roughly 12 M & Ms is a regular party in a bag.
I’m not saying eating chocolate isn’t fun. It’s great. I can’t get enough of the stuff personally. A regular sized bag of them is kinda fun. I could have a fine time with one of those gigantic bags that look like they could strap it to a horses’ face and feed it for hours. But, the M & M schmucks don’t call those “fun”.
Those miserable frauds lie to you when they don’t even have to. What would be wrong with calling it “the little bag” of M & Ms? Would that somehow demean the product? Would I somehow be having less fun?
If they were just to level with you about the thing you’d know what you were getting and there would be some integrity in the act of consuming them. They have to suck you into to some worthless, disgraceful lie about the type of experience you are going to have. I only want a few M & Ms, therefore, I’ll get the small bag. Seems reasonable. But everything has to be celebration. Even getting a tiny bag of freaking M & Ms, which is really one of the duller experiences a person can have in the general scope of things.
The worst part is, if you want a small bag of M & Ms, you have to participate in this con. I ate one of them earlier today and couldn’t shake the feeling that some retired scumbag ad executive is sitting on a beach somewhere thinking about the millions of dollars he has collecting interest in a bank in the Caymans because he thought up the idea of calling a little bag of M & Ms “fun”. I hope a shark eats him. In front of his grandkids.
I want to drink a soda, not an “icy cold Coke”. I don’t want to “Just Do It”, I want a pair of sneakers. I don’t want to be “the best a man can get”, I just want to use a razor from time to time so I don’t end up looking like The Unabomber.
Just leave me the hell alone. If I want something, I’ll buy it.