Behold the Tyrant

By: Jimmy Hackett 

Have you ever stared down a box of Smuckers Pre-made uncrusted PB and J sandwiches? They’re in the frozen food isle. 

And they do not thaw quickly - 20 minutes. And no. They cannot be microwaved.

For twenty minutes you have to contemplate the series of life choices that brought you to this moment.

Where did it all go wrong?

You begin to feel ashamed. Choosing Smuckers is equivalent to saying pornography is too much work. Instead you’ll take a nap and hope for a wet dream.

And that’s why you never eat just one Smuckers. You enter the Smuckers black hole. You’re already eating one Smuckers. May as well eat two. Next thing you know, your whole counter is covered in thawing Smuckers.

The flavor profile matches nicely with the tear drops rolling down your cheeks.

But luckily, Smuckers brings you to rock-bottom pretty quickly. No one can stay awake after 4 Smuckers. You’ll wake up in the bathroom the next morning. Time to face the music.

You were hoping for a clean wipe. Forget it. Now, you have to deal with the paper sticking to the sandwich residue on your fingertips from the night before. The wiping causes pain. Pain causes suffering. 

But, your only chance at a normal day after a Smuckers binge is a clean slate. You must keep wiping.

And as you’re wiping, you begin thinking about the strings that control the system…

You’ve now left a black hole for a rabbit hole.

Who the hell thought it was a good idea to allow these sandwiches anyways? What kind of society lets a grown man buy pre-made sandwiches? Is there no more decency? Is this the future? A bunch of losers waiting for food to reach room temperature. 

You convince yourself it’s time to fight back. But there is no fighting back.

There is no more counter-culture. Everything now exists within the corporate sphere. Protests are marketing. Picket lines are branding. Events to resist the corporate overlords are organized on social media that is simultaneously advertising the groups you aim to resist!

Behold the tyrant! Resistance is futile!

But as the paper begins to clear, you begin to see the light. The times you cherish. The times of adventure. The times you helped someone else. The times you helped yourself. Behold you are the Tyrant. The Tyrant of your life.

You pull up your pants, wash your hands, flush away the pain. And next time. No. You decide there won’t be a next time, because next time you decide you will make your own fucking sandwich!