Lipton, You Ain’t My Daddy

Look, I understand that whole grains do a body good, but come on, Lipton, you’d better stop trying to parent America (read as: selling products that you think we night buy because the words “whole grains!” are stamped on the package, thus giving the illusion that you care, you really, really care, about us, when in reality you’re a bunch of baboon-assed soup and side dish mongers with no regard for our health) or else America, like the bitchy, sullen teen she is, will rebel and break your papery corporate heart. And I’m here to tell you that this is one sullen bitch who will not be purchasing your whole grains-injected swill, no matter how good it’s supposed to be for me.

At one time, your Fettuccine Alfredo side dish (now made with whole grains!), was my favorite mother’s little helper, the one thing that made Sunday’s baked ham extra special, Thursday’s grilled Italian sausage with peppers and onions even more faux-Italian, and soothed my monthly cravings for starchy, cheesy badness. That side dish gave me reason to live.

Where once my beloved Lipton Fettuccine Alfredo was a comfort, a true joy for the palate and soul with its tender, smooth, white, normal fettuccine smothered in a delicate but busty Alfredo sauce, it now causes my eyes to reel from the revolting tobacco-stain brown pasta, my lips to curl in disgust from its unpleasant gritty texture, and my stomach to heave with disappointment each time I try to reestablish a connection to my erstwhile friend, hoping against hope that it was all one big horrible nightmare, that it was all in my mind. Alas and alack, it is now dead to me.

Your one saving grace is the delicious line of rice dishes, of which my favorite has to be the Broccoli and Cheese. I can’t imagine a steak and baked potato without my glorious Lipton Broccoli and Cheese Rice. That said, I’m warning you, Lipton, if you dare screw with that recipe, I will frigging lose it. I honestly will. You will one day see an insane, wild-eyed harridan pacing back and forth outside Lipton headquarters with handfuls of tainted Lipton Broccoli and Cheese Rice, and I swear on my Aunt Carmella's grave, I will, much like a toddler who doesn't know any better, hurl it in your CEO’s face.