Pretzels and Presidents

An Editorial by Holli Vaine
(1/20/2002)

I suppose by now that you have all heard the horrifying news of the almost tragedy suffered by our President on January 13, 2002. I have no doubt that you all can remember where you were and what you were doing when the news came over the radio or played on TV.

On that day, a day that will live in infamy, the President of the United States, one of the most powerful men in all of the free world, George “W” Bus, was struck down, while watching football, by the Killer Pretzel of Doom. He choked on this traitorous pretzel and “fainted.” We can only thank God that he wasn’t alone during his time of need: when he woke a few moments later, his dog was there. A loyal dog who, in the President’s own words, “stared at [him] quizzically.”

I own a dog, several in fact, and I will share a secret with you: if I had been struck down by the Pretzel of Doom in the presence of my dogs, they would not be “staring” at me - they would be violently attacking the bag or bowl that had contained the Pretzel of Doom or maybe licking my face in hopes of catching some crumbs.

Anyway, as far as the news networks are concerned, killer pretzels are big news. In fact, they seem to consider the “pretzel incident” as having almost the same importance as our current terrorist hunt in all places Middle East.

However, I don’t think that they worry without reason: all of this talk of killer pretzels is scary. If the most powerful man in our country could suffer grievous harm from a single pretzel (a gash on the face and a “sizable” bruise), what hope is there for the rest of us “common folk”?

Forget about jet planes and anthrax; what if the next greatest threat to our nation comes not from terrorists overseas or arriving on our front door steps in plain, brown packages, but from a family favorite that many of us have depended on for generations to sate out hunger when we watch TV or when we are waiting for drinks at the bar?

Frankly, I’m worried. What if this is a start of a trend? What if other snack foods join the DarkSide™? Should we be extra careful the next time we open a bag of potato chips? What assurance do we have that our next Hostess cupcake won’t try to kill us?

I don’t have those answers. And, who knows?, it may all be just a salt encrusted red herring. All I do know is that the FBI and the CIA should definitely look into this.

As for me, wish me luck. There’s a bag of Cheetos calling me.


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