Ritz Crackers

Holy Crap.

Have you tried these things?

Ritz Crackers are slamming!!!! (I heard that word in a movie I was watching the other night. I was half-asleep, and it starred either Jackie Chan or Robert Davi, and there was a black guy in in, but not the one you're thinking of.)

I bought a box of Ritz Crackers the other day. Must be new.

These things are fucking good.

You know what they remind me of?

The end of World War II, and that scene in New York where they're celebrating V-E Day, and there are those people jumping up and down in their funny 40's outfits, all happy and shit. That's what these crackers remind me of.

Happiness. At the end of a major war. In funny clothes.

They ought to let me write copy for advertising.

Ritz Crackers! They are as good as the End of the Second World War!

They're really good.

You should try them with peanut butter.

Because you don't listen enough to what I say.

Do what I say.

And remember. No matter what you do, you'll always be graded on the weakest 5% somebody can find. And if they can't find anything to be critical of, they'll make some shit up. Because they haven't found the Ritz Cracker Pathway to Happiness (as good as dropping a bomb on Nagasaki!) So, they have to shit on what you do. It's their way.

Who's to say what's right and wrong?

Me!

I am!

And Who am I?

Big Stupid Tommy. Ritz Cracker Maven, and Bloggert Extraordinaire.

I am pleased that I spelled Extraordinaire correctly.

Easily pleased.

Thattaboy.