it’s a bad day in america. a bad, bad day.

You guys, it’s a really bad day in ‘Merica.

Yes, I am going to talk about Hostess.   I realize this is probably one of the most ridiculous topics of conversation going on around interspace today.  I don’t care.

Early in the day I started reading chatter about Hostess closing its doors, and unions and the condition of America and I just kind of shrugged it off.  I mean, I was sad Twinkies are going by the way side, but we’re just coming out of an election season.  I’ve heard all sorts of murmuring and complaining and rabble-rousing for months.  This news just kind of blended into the background noise of all that jabber.   Honestly, when Jimmie first said, “Oh my God can you believe the news about Hostess?” I was all, “Meh.  Whatevs.”

Then, 11:00 happened.  “What?” you say, “could be so special about 11:00?”  A galactic shift in the hormone-sphere if you really must know.  All the talk of Twinkies and Hostess and the wailing and gnashing of teeth of “whatever will we do now?” sort of came into focus.  What was once passively floating around in my head all sad and nervous for those out of work processed food makers suddenly was screaming at me.

“WHAT WILL WE DO WITHOUT THE TWINKIES?!?!?!”   How will the county fairs ever replace the deep fried twinkies?  Sure Snickers are also great battered and fried, but nothing comes close to the heart attack on a stick Twinkie concoction.  This will not end well!”

Soon, my day got busier and I forgot about the Twinkie.  And then this happened.


How did this not register sooner?  We are not only losing America’s favorite (and most reliable) Apocalypse staple?  We are losing the Ding Dong.   And Chocolate Cupcakes with the cute little white curly-swirly on top.  And Ho-Hos.  And God, Himself, forbid the perfectly soft and smushy Powdered Donettes. This cannot be.

Fat people around the globe should be united tonight in mourning the loss of our go-to late night binge food.  Never mind the lunatic cravings of a menstrual woman in need of her monthly fix of shrink-wrapped diabetes.  And don’t even get me started on the second best munchie food for every pot head alive (second only to Cheetos Puffs. Come on, you knew that. From College.)

In an  act of desperation I send Jimmie to the corner market.  We call it the “porn shop” because it is the only place in our little town where you can buy a gallon of milk, plastic toilet shaped candy dispensers with an attached lolly-pop “plunger” and the newest release of hard core porn.  Surely they would have some Hostess products.

He just called in with his findings:
One individual package of Hostess Orange Cream Cupcakes (what in the holy hell is that?) and
One small bag of Hostess Banana Nut Mini-Muffins.


The guy at the store told him a Box of Twinkies will sell for around $60 on eBay right now.  (and I just sit here wondering why in the hell I didn’t see this coming.  Those things were on sale 2 for $5 last week!  I’d be rich if I’d known.)

I sent him to Walmart, holding out hope that those greedy bastards had been stockpiling for such a time as this.

Apparently not.

He asked me (his hormonal wife who he is terrified of right now) what he could bring home to make me happy.

“Nothing,” I replied.  “I just wanted some cream filled deliciousness one last time.  Just forget it.”

I blame the war on obesity.  And the legalization of marijuana.  If they can’t control the drug, they’ll sure as hell control the munchie food.  Better start stockpiling Cheetos, people.  Don’t say I didn’t warn you.