Dark chocolate days, that is.
I am so fucking sick of dark chocolate invading everything. Over the last five years or more, dark chocolate has gone from a fringe product only die hard chocolate freaks (and Germans) ate to taking over from time-honored and beloved milk chocolate and I can’t stand the stuff so it’s really pissing me off.
The latest outrage came in the form of the sugar free Russell Stover’s chocolate peanut butter patties I got with my latest online grocery order.
They’re okay. Edible. But they would be a whole lot better if the chocolate portion wasn’t that bitter fucking dark chocolate.
It’s like some kind of cruel joke. “Hey diabetics! Here’s some lovely sweet chocolate that’s safe for you to eat! Psych! It’s actually bitter and gross. Gotcha!”
I guess they figure beggars can’t be choosers, so we will take what they give us. And dark chocolate is considered healthy, so really, they’re doing us a favor, right?
And on a gut level, I still can’t believe anyone thinks that shit tastes good. I mean yeah, intellectually, I get that dark chocolate has tons of enthusiastic fans in the world and that they can’t all be the sort of self-indoctrinating health nuts who swear carob tastes EXACTLY like chocolate.
No it doesn’t, Kevin. It doesn’t taste like chocolate at all.
But on an emotional level, it still boggles my mind that something so bitter and nasty tasting has become so popular.
Personally, I am hoping for some sort of backlash. A counter-movement which brings actual tasty chocolate back into fashion.
Call it the “light chocolate movement”.
It would be a good move for an aggressive up and coming chocolate company. Tout your products as “the ones that still taste good”.
Push the nostalgia angle…. “remember how chocolate used to taste when you were a kid? You can have that again….”
And the ultimate : do blind taste tests. Show people wincing when they try the dark chocolate. Then ask them which they prefer.
“Weirdly enough, I prefer the one that doesn’t make me sick. “
But I am just one lone cranky diabetic. Surely there are hordes of other people who prefer food that tastes good and are sick of this dark chocolate BS.
We need to rise up as one and demand that dark chocolate always, always be optional. That everything with chocolate has both a normal chocolate option.
Make the world sweet again!
More after the break.
I’m talking to you, Bad Kevin
I’m going to pull a cheap Douglas Coupland cop-out and describe a story to you rather than write it because I don’t have the brain energy to actually write it right now yet I also don’t have the ergs to think of something else to write.
I can probably at least write the central dialogue.
The premise is that a therapist, Doctor March, is in session with a sociopathic serial killer named Bad Kevin, the author of many, many highly creatively sadistic murders.
I could go into detail but neither of us wants that.
The setup is that Doctor March (precise, neat, clinical, calm) is sitting behind a desk and Bad Kevin (slowly rocking back and forth, seething, crazed, smart with a deadly edge) is seated on a dirty cot. Thick Plexiglass separates them.
Doctor March : So if I understand you correctly, you’re saying that your fellow human beings are nothing but empty meat to you. Even me?
Bad Kevin grins like a rabid wolf.
Bad Kevin : Especially you, Doc, You most of all.
Doctor March : So to you, there is no difference between a live human being and a side of beef hanging in a butcher’s shop, correct?
Bad Kevin : That’s right, Doc. Couldn’t have put it better myself.
Doctor :Well then why kill them?
Bad Kevin : What do you mean, why?
Doctor : Just what I said/Why? Why go to all the trouble of trapping, abducting, torturing, and killing a live human being when, according to you, you would get just as much pleasure out of doing it to a side of beef?
Bad Kevin : No, that’s not how…. I mean….
Doctor : Killing people is dangerous. It’s messy. It creates an enormous amount of work and a huge legal problem. So why bother?
Bad Kevin is becoming sweaty and agitated.
Bad Kevin : Because I LIKE doing it, okay?
Doctor : But why? What possible thrill could you get out of torturing and killing a meaningless hunk of human meat? Why not just train to be a butcher? What could drive you to kill people who mean nothing to you?
Bad Kevin is now on his feet, dripping sweat and swaying om his feet, His eyes are clouded and he seems to be in deep inner turmoil. A low bubbling rumble is heard, like a massive kettle boiling far away.
Bad Kevin : Just…. just stop talking…. you don’t…. understand….
We switch back to the Doctor. He is now visible only as a silhouette and the light shining off the lenses of his glasses.
Doctor (his voice hollow, deep, echoing, harsh) : Stop talking? But why? Aren’t my words just the squeaking of empty meat? How could anything I say harm you? Why should I stop talking, Kevin?
Kevin : Just…. please stop. Please….please stop.
The rumbling is much louder now, and seems to be building to a crescendo.
Doctor : Oh I will stop…. when you TELL ME WHO I AM.
Kevin : What? I don’t….
DOCTOR : WHO AM I, KEVIN? TELL ME!
Kevin : You’re…my father….
DOCTOR : WRONG. You killed your father. Don’t you remember? I won’t stop until you TELL ME WHO I AM, Kevin! WHO AM I?
Kevin:You’re…. the Devil…..
The roar is almost deafening, and mixed with the beats of a dozen terrified hearts. All that remains of the Doctor is the glint on his glasses.
DOCTOR : WRONG. You’re the devil. You told me yourself. Evil incarnate.Sadism perfected. So I can’t be the devil, Kevin, that’s you. So WHO AM I?
Kevin is now eight years old and crying.
Little Kevin : You’re….. God?
DOCTOR : WRONG. And you’re out of guesses. What I am, Kevin, is the healthy p[art of your mind that has been trying to escape your insanity since the day you killed your father. I am the screaming maddening voice of your empathy and your conscience, and I’m the one who made you hurt all those people because it was the only way you know of to make yourself actually FEEL SOMETHING. And you needed to feel something, Kevin, you know WHY?
Little Kevin: No….don’t tell me…. I’m big and strong and scary…. don’t tell me that…
DOCTOR : Because you wanted to feel close to your fellow human beings. Underneath the madness you were trying to connect with other people just like all the other monkeys. But you were such a fucked up little monkey that you couldn’t admit that you wanted love too, so the need just built up and built up inside you until you just had to do something about it….so you killed people. In order to FEEL LOVED.
Little Kevin : No! It’s not true! I don’t need anybody!
DOCTOR : THEN WHY DO YOU KILL PEOPLE KEVIN? Why not live in the middle of the woods away from all us empty meat humans? You need people, Kevin…. you need people to kill! Because that’s the only way you can FEEL LOVE!
Little Kevin cries out as if mortally wounded then collapses on the cot.
DOCTOR : Well I’m the healthy, strong side of you, Kevin, and I am sick of being locked away. So I am taking over. And that means you, Bad Kevin, have to DIE.
The word “die”echos rapidly until it blur together into a ringing sound.
It’s an alarm clock.
Regular Kevin wakes up on the cot. It’s morning. He looks at the window at the sunrise, and smiles.
Regular Kevin (crying happy tears) :It’s just so…. beautifull…… :
THE END
Lame ending I know, but I am out of time.
I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.