And the winner is... No Spuds
Jon Umbel
Issue date: 11/17/05 Section: Humor
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The potato is a bastardly vegetable. You may not realize this, but it's not even a vegetable at all, it's a starch. That's right, an Atkins, South Beach, Weight Watchers killer starch. For years we were deceived that the potato was good for us. Everyone ate potatoes because they were not only good for you, but quite tasty as well. To capitalize on its healthy demeanor, we exploited the versatility of the potato. We ate it baked, mashed, fried, and broiled. Potatoes quickly became part of every meal. We even began to eat potato items such as potato chips in between regular meals, indulging in their absolute bliss.
However, we were wrong. The sweet innocent spud with its quaint eyes and fluffy innards is actually leading to the demise of our health. Turns out, the potato is loaded with carbohydrates that turn to heavy fat when consumed in excess, not fluffy goodness as everyone thought. Even worse, the effect is compounded when the potato is fried to a perfect crunch. Those thin tasty crisps that go oh so good with multiple dips are working double time at corrupting our bodies. Instead of helping our diet, the potato has secretly been working against us, packing on the pounds on our thighs, hips, and most of all, love handles. That's right; all those parts of your body you hate are pure Idaho spud.
The potato also influences us psychologically. They suck us in with a happy, smiling face on the Pringles can or bright, shiny packaging. Also, their taste is often covered by sour cream or barbeque sauce, making us think we are consuming some other food. Even potato byproducts such as succulent vodka corrupt us. It mixes so well with punch or orange juice and tastes so sweet and warm on the way down. However, on the way back up it burns like the fiery pits of hell, unleashing the potato Satan. It deceives our mind and tells us everything is OK, when in fact, the trash can outside of Blair Hall is not Mike Southard and it will not give me a hug. And no, it is not necessary to eat a whole blasted can of Pringles as a late night snack. What? Pringles? They are all ganging up on me! Make it stop! Damn, you fooled me again bastard potato!
This must be stopped. We cannot let the potato dominate our lives. That's the television's job. Stand up for what is right and holy and castrate the potato. Shun it from your lives. Otherwise we're doomed to end the human race as we know it. Do your part. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to eat some French Fries. What? I'm a hypocrite you say? Hey, say what you want, but at least I'll die happy. That's what television tells me is right anyways.
However, we were wrong. The sweet innocent spud with its quaint eyes and fluffy innards is actually leading to the demise of our health. Turns out, the potato is loaded with carbohydrates that turn to heavy fat when consumed in excess, not fluffy goodness as everyone thought. Even worse, the effect is compounded when the potato is fried to a perfect crunch. Those thin tasty crisps that go oh so good with multiple dips are working double time at corrupting our bodies. Instead of helping our diet, the potato has secretly been working against us, packing on the pounds on our thighs, hips, and most of all, love handles. That's right; all those parts of your body you hate are pure Idaho spud.
The potato also influences us psychologically. They suck us in with a happy, smiling face on the Pringles can or bright, shiny packaging. Also, their taste is often covered by sour cream or barbeque sauce, making us think we are consuming some other food. Even potato byproducts such as succulent vodka corrupt us. It mixes so well with punch or orange juice and tastes so sweet and warm on the way down. However, on the way back up it burns like the fiery pits of hell, unleashing the potato Satan. It deceives our mind and tells us everything is OK, when in fact, the trash can outside of Blair Hall is not Mike Southard and it will not give me a hug. And no, it is not necessary to eat a whole blasted can of Pringles as a late night snack. What? Pringles? They are all ganging up on me! Make it stop! Damn, you fooled me again bastard potato!
This must be stopped. We cannot let the potato dominate our lives. That's the television's job. Stand up for what is right and holy and castrate the potato. Shun it from your lives. Otherwise we're doomed to end the human race as we know it. Do your part. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to eat some French Fries. What? I'm a hypocrite you say? Hey, say what you want, but at least I'll die happy. That's what television tells me is right anyways.
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