It seems that my name and address have been added to a catalog mailing list and suddenly I am the recipient of all kinds of interesting marketing. I got Abercrombie & Fitch, which will be so handy next time I want a $50 torn polo shirt. I also got a weird little catalog of miscelaneous gadgets that include "The Marshmallow Rotisserie".
Now, I'm not up on my Revelations, or any of the bible for that matter, but I'm pretty sure that the world deserves to be ending when anyone thinks that The Marshmallow Rotisserie is a good idea.
I especially love that everything in the catalog is a "The" - from "The Underseat Rolling Carry-On" to "The Adjustable Pool Recliner" to "The Superior Spa Wear" - the whole catalog is a weird experience. My second-favorite item is "The Turkish Shower Wraps." Because: "While most towels come loose easily, and must be constantly re-tied around the body, these wraps fasten in place, and are fitted with pouch pockets into which lip balm, jewelery, sunglasses or shampoos can be placed." I'm so happy to know that the problem of what to do with my sunglasses while I'm hanging out around the house after my shower, clad only in an annoyingly loose towel, has finally been solved!
Imagine the inventor of The Marshmallow Rotisserie: "Guys, you know what really bugs me? How when I'm roasting marshmallows and I put three on the stick, they all roast unevenly. And all that turning the stick over. What's up with that?" I mean, what the hell? Imagine the kids, unable to continue roasting all three of their marshmallows - naturally, they've supersized and they eat them three at a time now - because the battery died. Or packing that thing on a camping trip. (NB: Anyone who brings The Marshmallow Rotisserie on one of my canoe trips will be marooned on an island with it, and only it.)
Walk into the woods and get a stick, dude.
The inventor of The Marshmallow Rotisserie deserves to be beaten severely. With sticks. No, wait! Wouldn't it be so much more effective if the beating stick had three independant arms, and a motor? Then I could just stand there while the blows rotated at a steady pace, bashing his head in.
Please take me off your mailing list!!! I'm afraid of the end of the world!!!
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