And Florida does, indeed, suck like a Dyson vacuum cleaner.
And no, this isn't a tirade about the Dyson guy, either. But really? Seventeen years researching vacuum cleaners and their shortcomings? Guess who doesn't get invited to many parties.
...besides me, smartass.
Crackerjack used to mean 'something pleasing or excellent', back in old-timey days. Those old-timey-ers didn't set their standards very high, apparently.
But today, following the never-ending saga of OBMV* disappointment, I opened a bag of Cracker Jack to ease my weary soul. Instead of a whistle or a stealth jet, I got a pencil topper.
And even that sucks. It's the suckiest suck that ever sucked.
What did I get today, though?
That bag of Cracker Jack, with peanuts that simply refused to commingle with the popcorn, cost far more than I should ever have to pay for a snack. And on a bad day, getting a temporary tattoo or a prismatic magnifying glass or Miss August 1998 would have brightened my day, at least a little bit.
Even the 'fun fact' is far from fun. Even the kids who ate paint chips while we were growing up know that pencil 'lead' is graphite. That's not fun. And I think I know fun facts.
In summary: Cracker Jack is run by cheap, communist bastards. And I still don't have an Ohio driver's license. But at least I feel a little bit better having gotten this off my chest.
*To clarify: OBMV is the Ohio Bureau of Motor Vehicles, not One Bad Mamma Vamma
**Also to clarify: I checked my trash, and I only paid $1.29 for my bag of Cracker Jack. But still, I've been ripped off.