We No Longer Have the Power

(Note: We have the sneaking suspicion that this “post” will be amongst the very least read animadversions in our humble “weblog’s” history. And, given our storied number of outright bombs, that’s saying something.)

Politics, politics, politics. Can’t we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” discuss anything else? In recent months, we’ve offered a heavier dollop of political commentary than in days past—and it’s high time we broke up this veritable e-monopoly a little bit.

As such, dear reader, in today’s humble “post,” we shall refrain from excoriating Dennis Kucinich for being a dangerous utopian and from chastising Stephen Colbert for turning his television program into a 30-minute humor therapy session for distraught Democrats. Instead of such typical topics, today we’ll tackle something less ideological, albeit equally nugatory.

If you are sufficiently old, dear reader, you’ll recall the quick rise and demise of New Coke. Originally deemed the future of soft drinks, this horrid beverage wound up one of the greatest disasters in the history of beverages. And, yes, that counts Tahitian Treat. Or that clear Pepsi—remember that junk? Even a trendy Van Halen-inflected advertising campaign couldn’t rescue that liquid clunker.

We mention New Coke (the very antithesis to Britain’s New Labour) because a recent trip to the greengrocer has well nigh given us visions of a New Coke-esque catastrophe. It’s not pretty, but it’s true.

Allow us to set the scene. Like all sentient beings, we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” love Power Bars, the surprisingly filling snack with dubious health benefits. More specifically, we esteem the chocolate flavored Power Bars, far preferring them to, say, peanut butter, malt nut, or purple crayon.

Ah, yes: The chocolate Power Bar is as close to ambrosia as you’ll get when consuming 170mgs of potassium. They are, in a word, good.

Imagine our collective surprise in the grocery store, therefore, when we noticed that the idiots in charge of chocolate Power Bars (Nestle, as it turns out) have tinkered with their heavenly formula. To be more specific, the chocolate flavored Power Bars boast a new “C2 Max higher-octane carb blend” that offers “more sustained energy to muscles.”

Uh, what the heck is that? A “higher-octane carb blend”? Do the folks at Nestle think that we’re a Honda Civic, for crying out loud?

So what’s the benefit of this newfangled “higher-octane carb blend”? Well, as far as we can intuit, it makes the chocolate Power Bars taste distinctly of monkey feces. And we say this with some knowledge: Since the age of 17, we’ve eaten our fair share of monkey feces. We’re not proud about it, but it’s allowed us to make this apt comparison, so we suppose it’s not all bad.

If you ask us, this horrible “high-octane” garbage is a complete disaster. You know, like an Andrew Lloyd-Weber musical, or a Roxette album.

Perhaps we can lead some sort of revolt against the “higher-octane carb blend.” A little Danish cartoon-esque riot would really send the folks at Nestle into a tizzy. If the people at Nestle prove as pusillanimous as the liberal elites are in the face of Muslim extremism, we’ll be rid of this odious new Power Bar quicker than you can say “bicep curl.”