Smile Politely

A Tale of Two Cookies

Greetings, Loyal Reader. I must extend my humble apologies to you for failing to complete a column for last Thursday. I know that you waited patiently at first, calmly refreshing the page every few minutes. Your calmness, however, soon abated, and you began viciously pounding your computer, screaming as loud as your voice could scream, “Curses on you and your kin, Vile Wit!” Eventually, you began … What’s that Gentle Reader? You did not even notice that I did not post a new volume? Oh … I see. Well then. …

In any case, the reason for my absence was that during last week, I was engaged in a debate with my arch-rival Smellfungus over the merits of Wittery. He claimed that Wittery was the main cause for war and suffering in the world. I, of course, disagreed with his claim. Therefore, we engaged in a panurgic debate in which no words were used, only gestures. The battle raged for seven days straight with neither of us stopping to rest, eat or excrete. After many brilliant arguments on Smellfungus’ part, I managed to achieve victory by placing the first two fingers of my right hand in my nostrils, making a circle with the thumb and pointer finger of my left hand and placing it on my codpiece, curling my tongue and running in place for thirty-two minutes while humming Bach’s Concerto for Harpsichord in F minor.

Needless to say, Smellfungus recognized logic far greater than his and ceded the debate. We spent the next 24 hours feasting and tippling at Smellfungus’ manor (Isolation Manor being a bit drafty this time of year and not suitable for guests). All was going well until Smellfungus’ vile cook brought out desert. The 360 main courses had all been utter perfection of culinary artistry, so I could not believe my spectacles when the chef presented us with a desert of … cookies!

“Cookies!” I shouted, “What manner of odorous cur are you to present us with cookies?” I stood up cudgeled him with a plate and made my exit.

So as you can well see, I have a perfectly good reason for my absence last week. Now, what was I going to talk about this week? I could have sworn that I had a rollicking good topic to discuss. Drat. Well, how about cookies? I have already breached the subject. Sound good? Very well. Cookies it is.

As you are aware Perceptive Reader, campus has not one but two cookie stores. Perhaps I am the crazy one, but I find this situation to be utterly mad. I cannot even understand how a town could support one cookie shop, let alone two. I could understand the success of a boulangerie that sold delicious cookies along with bread and pastries. (Please, whoever is listening, buy one of the cookie stores and open a boulangerie. I will give you my patronage and everlasting love.) But I simply cannot fathom how two cookie stores stay in business. Who is buying these cookies? Do people walk by the stores and decide, “Yes, I shall have a cookie now, despite the fact that I could get much more filling and delicious food at locations within two blocks in every direction.” I can almost understand one cookie shop that people walk by and make impulse buys in, but one of the cookie shops (I will not say which because I do not want to give that nefarious hole of degenerate imbeciles any publicity) delivers cookies. When I found this out, I nearly stepped in front of the closest moving bus.

Who on God’s rotted, burnt earth is ordering cookies for delivery. Are topers going online and saying, “You know what, Ken? Fuck Pizza, sandwiches and deep fried comestibles. Let’s get some cookies delivered!” I just do not see it happening. The very idea of a shop delivering cookies is insane. Think about it. Who decides that they just have to have cookies immediately and are willing to shell out premium delivery prices and a tip? Well, it is apparent that these people do exist because cookies are available for delivery in Champaign.

I will admit that I do not really like cookies. I find them to be unsatisfying, cloyingly sweet and gluttonous. However, I do not want you, Sweet Reader, to believe that I am against cookies. By no means am I calling for a ban on cookies or the permanent destruction of all cookie recipes. I am just calling for some sense in the whole matter. If you want cookies, Dearest Reader, make them yourself or buy a package of them. Do not let unscrupulous cookie czars trick you into supporting their harlot habits by buying their cookies. If you do need heed my advice, I will be forced to have words with you.

What will these words be?


“Your manner of living is befitting only of a lowly, contemptible cockroach. Begone from my sight and my hearing. Never tread on the same pavement that I stroll along or else you shall suffer the consequences of a savage wrath such as this world has never seen.”

I believe my warning is clear. Let us stop the madness. No more cookie shops in Champaign. No more cookieness (sorry I meant kookiness) in this world. No more, no more, no more. Thank you, Patient Reader. Excuse me. It is tea time, and my biscuits are waiting.

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