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2002-09-17 7:55 a.m.


Every once in a while I eat some Chex Mix. I would never buy the stuff myself. But, from time to time I find myself at a party or in a car with this snack treat and I just have to eat it.

Chex Mix. It's not just for sticking your dick in anymore! Aside from being the perfect size to "accidentally" lodge in a baby's esophagus, Chex Mix is also occasionally good for eating!

Recently, a coworker placed a rather large, glass container of Chex Mix on a low coffee table outside her office. Perhaps it was her attempt to lure us in for the kill—like a praying mantis or a black widow? Maybe they were tainted with poison in an attempt to put an end to the gross guys that always hang around her office and hit on her? Maybe she soaked them in urine and photographed us eating them with a secret camera located in an overhead panel?

I am a danger seeker willing to brave the risk of genital torture and even death when snacks are involved. So, I reached in to grab retrieve a handful of the crunchy goodness like one of those move–the–robotic–hand–and–win–a–toy machines they have at arcades and crappy pizza joints. The pieces were so rigid and brittle. I felt the salt and MSG between my fingers. This was truly the tactile sensation of snack.

I wish I could say that I ate each piece individually and enjoyed their unique flavors. But, I didn't. I shoveled fistful after fistful into my mouth, chewing and swallowing as quickly as possible. Think of a dog eating food in fast forward.

After many fistfuls I slowed my pace. As I ate slower, I started to notice something which I remembered thinking about before—something I thought about each time I ate Chex Mix, yet somehow always forgot immediately after my last bite. The universal order of the Chex Mix snapped into focus. In the past it was as if this thought could not exist independently of the Chex Mix experience. But this time would be different. I vowed to write the epiphany down and tell the world. That is, after I ate a few more handfuls and stuffed a few more handfuls into a plastic bag for later.

But, I did write it down and now the world can know. There is a dirty secret to Chex Mix—a secret they try to hide. They don't want you to know this, but not all Chex Mix pieces are created equal. Yes, in that Chex Mix bag there are haves and have nots. In fact, there is a distinct hierarchy of Chex Mix tastiness which ranges from glorious manna down to unfit–for–airline–snacks.

After eating a few more handfuls, I took this photo to help illustrate the Chex Mix hierarchy I speak of.

At the left side we see the most ultimate and perfect Chex Mix component. I call it the "heavenly manna". Then we have pieces of actual Chex. These are OK since they soak up plenty of MSG and Worcestershire sauce. Then we have the "truncated phallis", which is pretty shabby in the taste and texture departments. At the farthest right we see the most ghetto and craptastic pieces, the "barely–salted hunks of low–grade, burned pretzel dough". Throw these in the garbage.

Chex knows that the heavenly manna (aka garlic–flavor bite–size bagel chips) are the best morsel in there, and that is why these pieces are so rare. The other reason they are so rare is that I tend to reach into the bag and dig out each and every one of them, making sure to rub my fingers on every other piece in there just to make sure they all feel molested. I can only be happy if they are crying and have to go to counseling for years, the little bastards. But, it makes sense: The only way to show the lesser pieces—Chex bits, crispy truncated penis shafts, and shitty pretzels—how much I love and respect the heavenly bagel chips, is by molesting and punishing these lesser pieces for not being bagel chips. Imagine beating and defiling a child for not being as good as his brother, except with miniature, baked snack goods.

The amazing thing is that the best piece in the Chex Mix is not even Chex! It is not even related to the Chex family, except that maybe it sends money to the less–fortunate (and not as tasty) Chex bits so that they can buy shoes for their illiterate Chex kids.

I started an experiment in my office. I ate all the Chex Mix except for one piece of the heavenly manna (aka garlic–flavor bite–size bagel chips). As a test of my strength and willpower I sat this one remaining piece on my desk in front of my computer so that every day I must look at it and be tempted by its tastiness. Its MSG will call to me like the mythical siren called sailors to their doom; it will beckon to me like Tequiza entices teenagers.

Of course, I will see how long I can resist—how long I can go without eating the last bit. Since its chemical makeup is more than 30% preservatives, I do not need to worry about it decaying within my lifetime! So far it has been there for 12 days, and I have not eaten it yet. I have been distracting myself with other snacks in my office. But, my snack supply is low, and I am afraid that I may not be able to hold out much longer...