I Long for Dead Fish in Plastic Wrappers ...
|Here's a snack. Yum. Not.|
In an aisle containing peanut butter, no Skippy Super Chunk, no Skippy Creamy Peanut Butter, no Skippy anything could be found. No Peter Pan or Jiff. Off brands ruled. I was devastated. I bought some honey, but it might be thickened gluey pee, I don't know. I'm GUESSING it is honey. There was no Half 'n Half, no cream, no yogurt. There WAS milk, but none of it was 1%, 2%, or skim. It was milk. Period.
|Unidentifiable Korean beverage. I'd like a diet Dr. Pepper please.|
|Fish, I thnk. Maybe.|
Of possibly 200 people in the supermarket, I was one of three Americans. When we three saw each other, we ran toward each other with open arms, and spoke with great warmth, though we were strangers. I wanted to hug this unknown couple right there in aisle 3 and invite them to dinner. They told me they didn't recognize any of the foods and felt lost and alone. I appeared as an oasis in a vast dry desert. From my inner being, I felt truly loved and I loved these people in return.
|More fish, possibly.|
In all, I bought honey, unidentifiable milk, a possible can of tuna fish (won't know for certain until I open it), peanut butter (surely not Skippy), Splenda and Special K (they sell Splenda and Special K, go figure). I did not buy fresh "fish" from the barrels. Or meat, at $16.49/lb.
Oh how I long for the former days of identifiable food products. I long for English lettering on food cans. I long for 2% milk and Skippy peanut butter. I long for beef at $3.49/lb. I long for food that I recognize. I long for dead fish in plastic wrappers. Where is my dead fish in plastic wrappers?