The Pringle Tingle

     

America, I have a question for you. Not a deep philosophical question like our current dark times rightfully require. No, this is a frivolous one: What is is the deal with Pringles?
     When putting together a grocery list the other day, Grace asked for Pringles. Yeah, I don't know why either. I'm not a fan. But because I am the World's Greatest Dad a dope, I told her I'd get a tube. Now, in the rare instances I venture into a grocery store during the pandemic, I race through the place like I am trying to set a new course record on American Ninja Warrior. I was a little dismayed as my internal clock ticked away while I searched futilely for Pringles on the chip aisle. As I imagined Corona droplets raining down on me from every direction, I broke down and asked  for help. The kind clerk pointed  me one aisle over to the cracker aisle. I thanked him, grabbed a random tube of Pringles and made my escape to fresh air. It wasn't until later that I wondered why Pringles were on the cracker aisle when they are America's third-selling potato chip brand.
     Maybe before talking more about what Pringles ARE, we should talk about what Pringles ARE NOT. For one, they are not potato. Well, actually, that is only partially true. They are 42% potato. Call me crazy, but I like my potato chips to be deep fried potato slices. Not some pressed compound that is 42% potato, 58% sawdust. Okay, I have no proof of my sawdust claim, but would a discerning palate honed on fine dining delights like Arby's Beef n Cheddar and Pop Tarts (also 58% sawdust!) be wrong? Not likely. Research "suggests" the remaining 58% of a Pringle is wheat starch and flours (corn and rice) combined with vegetable oils, an emulsifier, salt, and seasoning. Yum!
Basically, Pringles are a substance, a slurry, a goo pressed and baked into their perfect standard shape. There are other slurries formed by industrial machinery into non-toxic, technically edible substances like Play-Doh and Crayola crayons, but I don't advise you put them in your mouth any more than I would advise eating a Pringle.
     I guess Pringle makers deserve some measure of credit for the perfect shape. The consistency lends itself to easy packaging. Remember though, nothing is perfect. What dark secret is hiding beneath all that pressed conformity and uniformity? Each chip should be unique. I want my potato chips a little like me: lumpy, bumpy, and misshapen.
     Pringles are also ARE NOT hearty. They are as fragile as my tenuous bond with reality. This fragility renders them completely undippable. I need a chip with the structural integrity to pave it's way through a bucket of french onion dip without crumbling. Did I double-dip that chip? No sir, I octuple-dipped it because that is how many pieces my Pringle shattered into upon making contact with the salsa.
Pringles also ARE NOT tasty. I mean, I guess they are if you prefer your chips dusted in chemically-enhanced reasonable facsimiles of your favorite foods. The Pringles website currently boasts 17 different flavors. There are probably retired flavors too. If any of their flavor powders sound appealing, I suggest just eating the real deal. Like jalapeno? Eat a jalapeno. Jonesing for pizza flavor? Order a pie. If you absolutely can not resist the flavor powder, find a better vehicle for delivery. Try snorting it off a hooker's ass like a real man!
     The bottom line is, leave the Pringles on the shelf. Let someone else try to squeeze their fat little paw in that tiny tube opening to grab a tasteless, laboratory-created, flavor-dust covered, partial potato wafer that will disintegrate the moment they grasp it with their greasy fingers. You can do better, fellow snacker. Get a bag of something you can fit your entire face into. The world is full of Combos, Cheez-Its, Wheat Thins and Doritos. Pretzels, Munchos, Chicken in a Biscuits, and Tostitos. Hot Fries, Chex Mix, Funyuns, and Fritos. Ditch the Pringles and Pass the Cheetos.