The scent of green peppers is not so unpleasant, I suppose. It’s fresh. It’s clean, and it reminds me of my childhood summers when we’d visit my bearded, burly uncle Arthur, who lived in a trailer near the river. But here’s the quibble: who decides these things?
I mean, why did they (whoever “they” may be) decide that urinal cakes should have the fresh, clean, burly-bearded smell of uncle Arthur’s trailer?
Or perhaps the question should be: why is green pepper any stranger a scent for urinal cakes than say, cherry, or pina colada?
What other flavors (flavors? Is that really the right sensory description for urinal cakes? There’s no way I’m going to be tasting one...) were considered? Root beer? Coffee? Asparagus? (That one’s too easy, perhaps.) Do our consumer-commercialized overlords understand what it means to be human? Do they (whoever “they” are) think these things will appeal to our senses? That they will be attractive or enticing to us?
Nevermind. This is thixotropic dreaming; give me a vigorous shake and these distrait ideas will melt away.
I mean, why did they (whoever “they” may be) decide that urinal cakes should have the fresh, clean, burly-bearded smell of uncle Arthur’s trailer?
Or perhaps the question should be: why is green pepper any stranger a scent for urinal cakes than say, cherry, or pina colada?
What other flavors (flavors? Is that really the right sensory description for urinal cakes? There’s no way I’m going to be tasting one...) were considered? Root beer? Coffee? Asparagus? (That one’s too easy, perhaps.) Do our consumer-commercialized overlords understand what it means to be human? Do they (whoever “they” are) think these things will appeal to our senses? That they will be attractive or enticing to us?
Nevermind. This is thixotropic dreaming; give me a vigorous shake and these distrait ideas will melt away.
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