So, I was in the store, and I saw a deal where you basically got a package of Oreos for free with the purchase of a gallon of milk. Since I was there for milk, this was a no-brainer.
That’s when I noticed the colorful packaging of this variant:
I bought them because I wanted to see if the sprinkles would make the milk change colors. I’d defend my decision, but I suspect most the people who read this blog will understand my decision.
I say decision. I mean mistake. See, I figured when they said “Birthday Cake” they meant, “Look, regular Oreos with colorful sprinkles! That makes it CAKE!”
See, in one of the most peculiar overlaps of loving care and what can only be described as calculated and intentional evil, some food chemist captured in loving and astounding detail — absolute and perfect fidelity — the scent and the flavor of cheap store-bought white cardboard birthday cake. From the first almost bitter shock of super-refined bottom-shelf ingredients, to the secondary shock of overly sweet sugar-substitute that induces instant queasiness, to the lingering aftertaste of staleness, it caresses and them degrades your tastebuds, taking your tongue gently and leading it through every unspeakable stage of the experience.
It is at once terrible and impressive, in the same way that Nazis were terrible, but it’s still kind of impressive that they managed to conquer as much of Europe as they did.
Also, they don’t change the color of the milk.
This isn’t a food blog. I don’t rate food. But if I did these Oreos would get enough negative stars to start a whole new antimatter universe.
Anyone can make something bad. Making things bad is easy. But to take a great idea, built upon something that is already wonderful, and, with the absolute pinnacle of human science and ability, pervert that into something truly awful, with no redeeming features, well, that is a true accomplishment.