There comes a time in every man's life when he realizes his own mortality. There also comes a time, almost in the same exact instance of the former, that a man has some sort of nonsensical nostalgia for a cherished item or brand from his childhood. This happened to me recently. "Jim" I said to myself, because I know myself pretty well, I dispense with formalities."Jim" I say again…twice actually, "you are starting to get to the age where you not a young kid anymore". "Hey everybody, look at the old senile guy talking to himself" I hear from across the street. I should go back inside. At that same moment of realization it dawned on me; I needed some Fruit Stripe gum. For the record, no one actually needs Fruit Stripe gum, unless you are racked with some serious affliction which requires that you consume a stick of chewing gum with a mean time flavor duration of three nanoseconds every two minutes until the entire pack is gone. It is the polar ...
The land of milk and fart jokes.