Monday, August 06, 2001

My Life As An American Gladiator Episode I: The Snack Cracker Menace

Chicken in a Biskit Is there in fact any Chicken in this product? I am guessing there must be because they actually spelled "Chicken" correctly. The main reason for my suspicion of these tasty delights is the intentional misspelling of "Biscuit", replaced by the sinister "Biskit" in a move that can only be related to the "Creme" - "Cream" phenomenon, or even more frightening: "Kreme". In the food industry, this inaccuracy in the spelling department is nothing less than a license to kill. Just because "Krab" is spelled with a "K", the manufacturers have the inalienable right to put anything they feel like in there, from rodent bits (read: rodent ass) to actual human flesh. Think about that next time you decide to skimp on the hors d'hoeuvres budget! Not to say there is a recognized world standard for what constitutes a "biscuit", per se, but don't say I didn't warn you.


Chicken in a Biskit just opened a new chapter in my life. Maybe one that shouldn't have been opened. But it's too late now. Kind of like in movies when you see quite clearly that someone has the Gate of Hell in their basement or maybe behind their couch and you think to yourself "They really should, you know, brick that up or something. I just bet one of these days someone [like the father, especially if he's played by James Brolin or is any in any way Brolin-esque] is going to open that portal." Then you pause for effect, maybe glancing around to see if anyone is around before you say knowingly, "And then there'll be trouble." It's that kind of chapter: Owners of Pet Skunks: Recipes. So, if you own a pet skunk and you use Chicken in a Biskit to lovingly garnish your Broccoli Casserole, I'm guessing you are class all the way.

That's about all I wanted to say about Chicken in a Biskit, except that they are good in a way that only the most repellant food can be good. Another signal indicator of their perfection is the way they leave their scent on your fingers after consumption, sometimes for days to come, unless of course you shower. That's always the sign of a good snack cracker and, coincidentally, a sign of good catfish bait. Another stinky yet strangely satisfying bad food delight is the elusive store-brand "Bacon" cracker. What are they? Where did they come from? Why are they just called "Bacon"? I can imagine the marketing execs having a little brainstorming session on that one:

Marketing toady #1: "We need something that really says 'Bacon'"
Marketing toady #2: "Hmm. How about 'Bacon'?"
Marketing toady #1: "No, I mean something that says 'Bacon' without actually being the word 'Bacon'"
Marketing toady #2: "Hmm. Did I already say 'Bacon'?"

I'm thinking Bacon casserole with a crunchy layer of Bacon Snack Crackers on top, to give it that wholesome "drywall" texture. Hell, why stop there? Go ahead and add some Baco's. Not real Baco's, you understand, but the fake store-brand bacon bits that tend to break your teeth. Deep within the bowels of the casserole (we'll get to Bowel Casserole later) you could hide some of that Sizzlean microwave bacon they used to sell. I bet somewhere in the midwest someone has built one of those weird roadside attractions: The Sizzlean House. Come See The House Made Of Sizzlean! Maybe in Nevada where on hot days you could actually hear the walls sizzling leanly. I bet Triscuits would make good siding too!

Coming soon: Fun With Jawless Lampreys


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