I bought a bag of Southern Biscuits & Gravy Lays, above, expecting it to be horrible. It wasn’t terrible (even though an overtone of milk in a potato chip isn’t a great flavor) but I found the horror I was looking for in the New York Reuben flavor. The lilt of corned-beef gives the impression that the chips have spoiled, and the hint of cheese insists to your brain that you’re eating mold as you experience the dust of artificial flavoring on each chip. In a block of cheese, mold works, but not here.

This is, of course, a demographic targeted by Buffalo Chicken Ranch Dippers, but all the same.      

Using the most dismal picture of a rubber band they could create, someone has listed a single rubber band for sale for ten cents.

In case you thought that a short erotic novel took any longer than a few hours to churn out, Oregon Patriots Occupied My Butt will prove you wrong. (If you’re reading this in the future and don’t know or remember what this refers to, it’s a group of gun-kissers who are currently “occupying” a wildlife refuge in Oregon. It ended poorly, or well, or was a mess, and it didn’t matter, and nothing changed.)

Suppose that you were an adult who wanted to pretend they were a mermaid when they were sitting on the couch under a blanket. How much would you pay for the privilege? $20? Maybe $30? Too bad. It’ll cost you a lot more than that.

There’s a similar one for “only” $54, which is also for kids, which makes more sense anyway.

This Toblerone bar weighs 9.9 pounds, or, for our metric friends, 4.5 kilos. It’s not that the chocolate is bad, and the manufacturer does their best to convince you to share it, but we all know the fate of these 4,500 grams of chocolate. They’re all going inside a single person. You, if you buy it.

Can you control your insatiable urge for sugar, salt, and fat? Is it your fault that you ate the whole thing? Technically, yes, but realistically, this behavioral pathway is encoded in your genes. Find sugar, eat sugar. It kept the prokaryotes alive, and if you’re reading this, it’s worked well enough that you’re still here too. At least it’s not the five-pound Hershey bar, whose makers process the chocolate in such a way that leaves it smelling faintly of vomit due to its butyric acid content. (It’s not noticeable if you grew up eating it, but if you’ve ever heard someone referring to Hershey as “pukey,” that’s why.)

I saw this today and couldn’t help but think of Motörhead. (If you haven’t seen the Lemmy documentary, BTW, it’s very good.)

I guess Your Slyce is an okay idea. It’s a silicone divider that allows you to bake separate slices of pizza, but in the shape of a whole pizza, for people who want different toppings. But then you see the tagline: “Why compromise?”

“Indeed, why must any of us compromise,” Your Slyce whispers to you. “Isn’t it the lack of gadgetry or rubber shapes, after all, that’s keeping each and every one of us from living a fulfilled life?” You nod, believing that a more perfect pizza will let you escape the larger problems you have, until you scroll down and see the customer image from someone who used this single piece of rubber to make garbage dinner.