COMMENTARY: Am I The Only One Who Thinks That Frost-Your-Owns Are the Devil Incarnate?

By Jeremy Whitestaff ‘16

Frost-Your-Owns. Everybody loves them. They’re the only way to get students to come to your career exploration workshop. They’re the only food that you will get peer-pressured into liking. So that why I’m just wondering: Am I the only who thinks that Frost-Your-Owns are nothing but a physical manifestation of the Devil? I’m sure I can’t be the only one.

Look, I can understand the appeal. They’re a sugar-coated treat that glucose-shocks you into a sweet, nostalgia-induced flashback to your childhood. A time when your ambitions weren’t routinely crushed in the vice-like grip of society or when the oppressive existence of adult life swept your feet out from under you like a moldy banana peel of cold, biting reality. But come on guys, I’m not the only one who believes that they are the nesting place of Satan, right?

I like to think I’m a pretty rational guy. I believe in the Big Bang and all that, and sometimes I even read about news things. But whenever I see a frost-your-own, all I see is the smoldering eyes of Satan, sometimes between the multi-colored sprinkles, other times amidst the swirls of frosting. Please tell me that you see those eyes too?

Sometimes I will see a whole tray of cookies sitting in the caf I realize that I’m staring into the countenance of Lucifer, the Bringer of the Light. And he is looking back at me. Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not dieting, but I’m sure that all of those carbs combined with the presence of the Prince of the Darkness is going to be bad for anyone’s figure.

And I can hear most of you saying, “Whatever J-Dog, we don’t buy it. Satan is not in that Frost-Your-Own.” Well, I think we will let history be the judge of that. Beelzebub is always around, wherever you least expect it. Did you see the expression on the Caf employee’s face as she pulled those hot, sugary morsels out of the convection oven? Didn’t think so. She was grinning maniacally because she knows what’s really inside those suckers, waiting to be consumed by every hungover students whose blood sugar is in the shitter. Nobody expects the Lord of the Underworld when you’re looking for your next insulin hit.

Surely there have to be a few other people who see where I’m coming from on this.

Categories: COMMENTARY