product review

Haltingly Into The Night.


after months of roommates, friends, and acquaintances threatening to just up and eat the goddamn things some night when i was out of town, i finally decided this afternoon to open the comically* oversized 1/2-pound Reese cups that i received for Christmas, only to find, lo and behold, they’ve gone kind of stale.

at least, i -think- they’ve gone stale. it’s hard to tell. i am basing this assessment on the crumbly, nigh-chalkiness of the peanut butter, which i remember from a youth of eating expired halloween mini-cups as being an indication of a Reese product somewhat past due. at the same time, it is altogether possible that this is -not- a matter of staleness; perhaps this denser consistency is an unfortunate by-product of the product itself, a structural precondition for the success of such a scaling up, like how you have to start building insects differently if you want to grow them to car-destroying proportions, gravity being what it is.

maybe you need to alter the consistency of the filling if there is to be any hope of the chocolate frame retaining its shape? i suppose i can’t know, now. and there is something appropriate about that, or so it would seem to my failure-loving aesthetic sense. appropriate in that way that waiting for the right moment to do something (with full idiomatic approval: Good Things Come To Those Who Wait, Fools Rush In, Patience Is A Virtue, and so on), so often results in the squandering or spoilage of that which one has so long anticipated.

of course, there is a difference between putting off doing what one desperately wants to do, and waiting for precisely the right moment to do something that one does not yet feel prepared to approach.** and the difference is not merely a coward’s comfort. in this case my attitude toward the Reese 1/2 lb cup changed over time. initially i was waiting for the right occasion to bust them out as a post-dinner party snack, but then it occurred to me that having written so (inexplicably) much about Reese products in the past, i owed it to myself and to my craft to approach this hideous abomination with a measure of respect.

which meant that i had to eat at least one of them in its entirety, by myself. not a task to be taken lightly.

because these things are huge, you know? one could pull a muscle.

anyway, perhaps this sense of the importance of the task inevitably sealed my fate. the Big Big Cups were thus endowed, enshrouded, with a glamour, daunting and monstrous. when would i be ready? -could- i be ready? how hungry would i have to be? who would survive, and what would be left of them? i wouldn’t say i was really afraid of the prospect, that would be dramatizing things too much; in fact i was looking very much forward to it, i foresaw myself suffused, sickened, but animated and inebriated by the poetry of excess. i would write something, perhaps the best something, about the Biggest Cup, before crapulence swung around to destroy me.

and so at home i bode my time, held well my own. one can’t rush such things. or couldn’t, but perhaps should have; for now, most of the way through the Biggest Cup i am hardly inspired to go on, and do not know whether it is in the cup or myself i should be disappointed. was it ever the giant i took it to be, or just this dusty, crumbling windmill?

as bummed as i am, i can’t help feeling underneath it all a sense of satisfaction at being robbed, perhaps by my own machinations, of the confrontation over which i had so fantasized, robbed not only of the prospect of triumph, but of even the capacity to understand what it is i have before me. i have in effect robbed myself of the sense of the event by too thickly encumbering it with significance.

the first impression that i had upon opening it was the familiar and not altogether pleasant scent of a chocolate Easter rabbit. i don’t know whether that is simply the smell produced by too much chocolate in one confined space (does that even make sense), or whether it is something to do with chocolate left to languish. even in the midst of my confusion i marvel at the heft of the thing, the thickness of the chocolate around the beveled edge, which defies the sense that the cup could possibly be in proportion to its predecessor; again a structural necessity that belies the impossibility of simply scaling up. reluctantly i am forced to admit that no growth serum or biggification ray was employed in the production of the Biggest Cup – a marvel of engineering it must be, impressive, if not livable.

funny that i seem all too ready to embrace the soul-depressing general lesson of “don’t look too forward to things, for you shall inevitably spoil it for yourself before you are even afforded the opportunity to be let down,” whereas if the (specific) lesson is “don’t think so hard about candy,” i don’t want to learn it.



* not “ha-ha” funny so much as “that’s not even funny” funny.

** “others conquered love but i ran. i sat in my room and drew up a plan”?


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