Friday, June 17, 2005



I friggin’ love peanut butter. I was raised on it. My mom used to buy it in the gallon pail (before Costco and Sam’s Club made buying in bulk socially acceptable) because I’d eat so much of the stuff. I had a little problem with wetting the bed when I was younger and my mom gave me some psychosomatic home remedy of a tablespoon of peanut butter before bed. Cleared it right up. Dry sheets for the rest of my life.
It’s about the finest processed food on the planet. Hell, I even outgrew jelly. I just throw more peanut butter on the other piece of bread and chow that bad boy down, choking as it coats my throat and the roof of my mouth.

There’s simply not a better food around.

If there was a Circle of Hell where some nasty fucked up demon tortured you by shoveling peanut butter from the back of a cement mixer down your throat for eternity, I’d ask “What sin do I gotta commit and how many times do I have to commit it?”

A while back, I noticed that our friends at Skippy started selling a “reduced fat” recipe.
“Great!,” I thought, “now I can enjoy the wonderfulness of peanut butter and take in a little less fat in the process!”

And all was good. It tasted great and it was great for me.

A couple weeks back I opened a new jar and went to make me a nice sammich for lunch. I unscrewed the lid, peeled off the seal, and inhaled the fresh aroma. Juan Valdez and his stupid donkey don’t got shit on the smell of freshly opened peanut butter. The only thing that’s close is a new can of tennis balls.

I jabbed my knife in and prepared to spread some joy across my wheat bread. The knife stuck a little bit and instead of a creamy, dripping dollop of peanut butter on my knife, I had some nasty, clumpy dry brown shit on it instead. I figured maybe I got an old jar or something, so I tossed it. I opened a new jar. Same thing.

Some dumb sonofabitch at Skippy has changed the recipe of the reduced fat peanut butter from “so good your taste buds can’t tell the difference, but your arteries and heart can” to “if you are someone who would enjoy eating peanut butter that’s been tossed around in clumping cat litter, this shit’s for you!”

Thanks for that you assholes.

I should not have to burn more calories trying to drive the knife through the dry, flaky muck that you think you can sell as “peanut butter” than I gain by eating it. For years I fought the “reduced fat,” “lower sodium,” and all the other “more healthy” versions of products because they tasted so horridly NOT like the original. Skippy Reduced Fat Peanut Butter restored my hope in science.
But now my hope has been dashed against the rocks like a drowned baby seal carcass.

Let me help out the geniuses at Skippy, since obviously, they need some help. Here’s your new marketing slogan for your piece-of-shit reduced fat peanut butter:

“Skippy Reduced Fat Peanut Butter—9 out of 10 people agree…..that it tastes better after it’s come out than it did going in.”

I’m going to the store. The wholesale store. And I’m gonna get me a 5 gallon bucket of creamy, greasy, oily JIF. And as all that cholesterol is exiting my colon, I’m gonna peel the label of my Reduced Fat Skippy, and I’m gonna wipe my white ass with it.

1 Comments:

Anonymous Anonymous said...

I hope you've discovered Reduced Fat Jif by now. It's my addiction of choice.

9:54 PM  

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