Ramblings From an Apathetic Adult Baby

From Justin Gawel: Eccentric Dirtbag

Tag Archives: comedy

An Unacceptable Amount of Mayonnaise

This post originally appeared on Long Awkward Pause.   They’re a fun bunch who I contribute to sporadically and whose site is fun to peruse.

 

 

Dear Mr. James of the Family John,

 

I’ll drop the formalities, Jimmy John; I’m going to be frank. Yesterday I thought I ordered a sandwich, but upon unwrapping the culinary atrocity you’d delivered I found nothing except disappointment and confusion—much like a child tearing open a birthday present only to find this year’s edition of Quicken. What I received was no sandwich; it was more akin to a small raft of bread floating atop a congealed caloric ocean on its voyage to Type II diabetes.

 

My appetite was gone, but not satiated.

 

The ratio was revolting. The term sandwich was inaccurate. Sandwich implies some bit of structural integrity when, in fact, this was just a coagulated mass. Out of context I’d have surmised it was industrial cafeteria waste or an interactive art project gone awry. Jimmy John, I wanted lunch not poor man’s potato salad, my non-mayonnaise toppings suspended within the gob like casualties in Attack of the Blob.

 

I immediately threw it out, needless to say. It’s now feeding the dumpster rats that lack self-control.

 

My cubicle’s carpet, though, will never regain its innocence.

 

I fear I’m being unfairly stereotyped, Jimmy John. I know I live in the Midwest. I know I’m part of the demographic that leads this nation in cheese-based restaurants and child heart attacks. I know we sell t-shirts that read “Flavor Country: We’ll Show Restraint When We’re Prematurely Dead.” But, Jimmy John, we’re not all Rascal-riding gluttons. Some of us view sandwiches as more than just vehicles to ingest mayonnaise.

 

Sure, freaky fast delivery is great, but not when it’s in such haste that your sandwich-slinging bigots are applying sweeping generalization to populations just to get orders out on schedule.

 

Prejudices like this are tough to stomach. Please, stop ascribing your narrow-minded beliefs about me based off my location and neighbors’ waistlines. Get to know me for who I am: a customer who experiences white-hot rage whenever he’s delivered a meal that’s drowning in white, room-temperature goo.

 

I have a dream that my children can someday live in a world where mayonnaise always comes on the side. Yes, I know it’d be more expensive and would render your company’s vats and masonry trowels useless, but it is a compromise. Your stereotyping sandwich servants could remain and continue to pigeonhole customers to their blackened hearts’ content, yet, by only giving packets, they’d never again be able to ruin a lunch through over-mayonnaise-ing!

 

Be a leader who looks out for people. This country needs a sandwich king, not a sandwich Führer.

 

 

Marginalized as Another Midwesterner,

Justin Gawel

 

 

 

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“Ahem, gentlemen, I stand corrected—there evidently are bad ideas in brainstorming. Why is it that we’re losing ground across the board and yet we’re only pitching conservative strategies that’ll, at best, lose the fight slower? To me that doesn’t make sense. I know it’s an uphill battle, but capitalism and science aren’t sleeping; nope, they’re out there every day, hustling to make drugs stronger, cheaper, and easier to obtain.

 

“Relax, no need for jaw clenching and rabble-rousing; I know I’m just a college sophomore three weeks into my summer internship here at D.A.R.E. America. All I’m saying is that, if we want a game-changer, we’re going to have to do better than commissioning a few police lectures, rinky-dink parades, and videos of drug-addled teens unsuccessfully outrunning trains.

 

“Put your hands down; I already know what you’re going to say. Yes, sob-story eulogies were all the rage back when kids still had feelings. Lay some sad, acoustic riff over it and those jaded sixteen-year-olds would melt into a malleable, whimpering putty. But today’s kids don’t care—they’re too busy sucking down energy drinks and snapping funeral selfies. The Golden Age is gone; the game’s changed and our playbook hasn’t.

 

“Look, before I committed my life to revolutionizing drug awareness propaganda, I was a real bad apple: rotten with poisons on the inside and red with chronic acne on the outside. At seventeen I was self-conscious and no stranger to succumbing to a jibber joint rolled up with that sticky Alaskan Slowfuck, always worried that saying no to such dankitude would mean permanent exile from popularity.

 

“Lost I was. Lost in the wilderness, a hazy, Aeropostale-littered wilderness. It was anxious and humiliating, but pricelessly insightful nonetheless.

 

“Senior Board Members, today I stand before you and assert that we don’t need to un-dorkify sobriety; we only need to make using drugs more un-cool than abstaining. And, for high-schoolers, what’s collectively un-cool? It’s not cops. It’s not Republicans. It’s not even the Christian clique. No, for today’s teens there’s nothing more universally un-cool than their parents.

 

“I say we get the parents involved, but not by self-righteously lecturing. Unless their parents are snack-hawking cartoon cheetahs or disgraced celebrities, teens aren’t listening. Overt dishonesty won’t work either; research shows adolescents won’t start eating healthy or writing thank you notes just because their parents tell them it’s the summer’s hot, new, funky fresh fad.

 

“We need some a-typical guerilla tactics. Namely, we need to get parents to start doing drugs with their kids. To me, there’s no better way to make teens’ stoned experiences awkward while effectively showcasing how un-cool and un-fun drugs can be.

 

“Hear me out. Parents can cultivate an obnoxious stoner persona to shift into who feebly discusses universe interconnectedness, recites awful homespun poetry, and incessantly quotes Austin Powers. Plus, we’ll coach parents to maximize paranoia by peppering in quips like ‘Did I just say that or did you just think that?’ or ‘Premonitions are bullshit; Grandma’s okay though, right, man?’

 

“It won’t happen overnight. Teens aren’t going to be permanently disinclined after just half a family blunt and twenty minutes of their pops donning one of those smell-hoarding ponchos and ineptly noodling around on a guitar. Real change and real resentment take time and expectations need to be managed. It’ll take commitment. We’ll need a country of parents abhorrently high, constantly bothering their children with new conspiracy theories and terrible ideas for rock operas.

 

“Soon enough though, teens nationwide will start associating the one-two punch of utter irritation and festering anxiety with drug use and start saying no whenever they’re peer pressured. It worked for Pavlov. It worked on Little Albert. And I guarantee, with the right guidance, we’ll be able to keep 2014’s teenagers off drugs one embarrassingly uncomfortable Shagadelic at a time!”

 

 

 

 

- Join Adult Baby Nation below with just an email address today for free, exclusive ramblings, guaranteed never to flood your inbox.  Also follow Justin on Twitter for cringe-worthy puns, recaps of Hot Pocket binges, and topical jokes about balms, creams, and his rash-y lifestyle.

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