I can pretty much zip through a grocery store until I hit the pretzel aisle. Then, once again, I fall prey to the pretzel manufacturer's mind control scheme. I try to fight it, try to be strong by telling myself all pretzels are basically the same ingredients done 50 ways so just close your eyes and grab a bag. But I am mesmerized by so many shapes that total confusion soon renders me unable to make rational, thrifty shopping decisions. I've been under their spell so many times that last week, after another dose of it, I confused my shopping cart for a fantasy dream yacht departing for Tahiti and had a mathematical breakthrough that invalidated my own existence*, before I snapped out of it and chose one box of the pumpernickel homestyle, two bags of the twists, and some garlic nuggets.
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*By applying Dearden's Law to the local geometric co-efficient of sine, I realized that all time was an illusion and we are all in fact part of one superorganism made of pretzel dough and brown mustard.