Jelly Bean is not my lover
Is it too much to ask to buy a bag of normal, unadulterated jellybeans?
Tempted by the possibility of those sweet, chewy, gelatinous spheroids that show up around this time of year every year, I found myself in the Easter candy section of Target today. What did I find? I found jellybeans with the flavor of Starbursts. I found jellybeans with the flavor of Life Savers. I found "spiced" jellybeans. I found jellybeans with the flavor of popcorn, pina colada, osso buco, Cabernet, toothpaste, or whatever the newest flavor of Jelly Belly happens to be.
(You know, I thought J.K. Rowling really nailed the joke of Jelly Belly with the Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, with flavors like earwax and trout. Then the merchandising tail came around to wag the dog (not long before Rowling completely lost the ability to write) and they actually produced the blasted things. I'll come back to this merchandising point. Just you wait.)
What I did not find was a bag of plain old ordinary jellybeans. You know, the Brach's kind with the old fashioned flavors . . . In a bag of those, you'll find red jellybeans that taste like red jellybeans. Sure, they call them things like "cherry" and "grape" and "lime," but they have their own flavors, which do not much resemble cherries or grapes or limes. And this is fine. The closest thing I found to the traditional flavors was a bag which featured those flavors, but in extra-small sizes like Jelly Belly beans. I did find a bag of all black jellybeans, which is justifiably awesome. Still . . . what gives? President Ronald Reagan famously had a jar of jellybeans always at hand in the Oval Office. I bet these were not gussied-up gourmet thingies. Is that the level of power it would take now just to get some old school beanage?
(The answer is no, of course. Like everything else, you can get 'em online, apparently. And I'm sure that there are plenty of places to get these; they just happened not to be at this particular Target on this particular day. Give me a little creative license here.)
Beyond this, it is apparently not sufficient anymore to stuff a basket full of green artificial grass and eggs and candy. No, now you can celebrate the resurrection of Jesus Christ with a basket shaped like Spider-Man or Optimus Prime or . . . well, I didn't see Spongebob, but I'm sure I just wasn't looking in the right place. Every place is an opportunity for merchandising, folks. I'm used to seeing kids carrying Spidey-shaped baskets for Hallowe'en, but that's always been a big ol' pagan excuse for a party anyway. Christmas was long ago transformed into an economic event. Easter's always been just a little more solemn . . . kind of. I'll grant that painting eggs and legends about a giant anthropomorphic rabbit (why, hello, Harv!) in celebration of a Jewish prophet/son of Yahweh who rose from the dead is already well into the realm of the absurd . . . But even my cynical agnostic heart finds it just a little tacky to push corporate-licensed merch into the picture. Obi-Wan Kenobi might kinda look like Jesus, but I think the messages are a little different.
All right, it's late and I'm still bummed about a missing kitty. I'm going to go eat some steamed vegetables, in traditional steamed vegetable form. Feel free to enjoy some broccoli-flavored Jelly Belly beans, though, if that's your thing . . . weirdo.
Tempted by the possibility of those sweet, chewy, gelatinous spheroids that show up around this time of year every year, I found myself in the Easter candy section of Target today. What did I find? I found jellybeans with the flavor of Starbursts. I found jellybeans with the flavor of Life Savers. I found "spiced" jellybeans. I found jellybeans with the flavor of popcorn, pina colada, osso buco, Cabernet, toothpaste, or whatever the newest flavor of Jelly Belly happens to be.
(You know, I thought J.K. Rowling really nailed the joke of Jelly Belly with the Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, with flavors like earwax and trout. Then the merchandising tail came around to wag the dog (not long before Rowling completely lost the ability to write) and they actually produced the blasted things. I'll come back to this merchandising point. Just you wait.)
What I did not find was a bag of plain old ordinary jellybeans. You know, the Brach's kind with the old fashioned flavors . . . In a bag of those, you'll find red jellybeans that taste like red jellybeans. Sure, they call them things like "cherry" and "grape" and "lime," but they have their own flavors, which do not much resemble cherries or grapes or limes. And this is fine. The closest thing I found to the traditional flavors was a bag which featured those flavors, but in extra-small sizes like Jelly Belly beans. I did find a bag of all black jellybeans, which is justifiably awesome. Still . . . what gives? President Ronald Reagan famously had a jar of jellybeans always at hand in the Oval Office. I bet these were not gussied-up gourmet thingies. Is that the level of power it would take now just to get some old school beanage?
(The answer is no, of course. Like everything else, you can get 'em online, apparently. And I'm sure that there are plenty of places to get these; they just happened not to be at this particular Target on this particular day. Give me a little creative license here.)
Beyond this, it is apparently not sufficient anymore to stuff a basket full of green artificial grass and eggs and candy. No, now you can celebrate the resurrection of Jesus Christ with a basket shaped like Spider-Man or Optimus Prime or . . . well, I didn't see Spongebob, but I'm sure I just wasn't looking in the right place. Every place is an opportunity for merchandising, folks. I'm used to seeing kids carrying Spidey-shaped baskets for Hallowe'en, but that's always been a big ol' pagan excuse for a party anyway. Christmas was long ago transformed into an economic event. Easter's always been just a little more solemn . . . kind of. I'll grant that painting eggs and legends about a giant anthropomorphic rabbit (why, hello, Harv!) in celebration of a Jewish prophet/son of Yahweh who rose from the dead is already well into the realm of the absurd . . . But even my cynical agnostic heart finds it just a little tacky to push corporate-licensed merch into the picture. Obi-Wan Kenobi might kinda look like Jesus, but I think the messages are a little different.
All right, it's late and I'm still bummed about a missing kitty. I'm going to go eat some steamed vegetables, in traditional steamed vegetable form. Feel free to enjoy some broccoli-flavored Jelly Belly beans, though, if that's your thing . . . weirdo.