Most people contribute to the world in positive ways; some birth children, and others, great works of art. But the opposite proved true for Vilhelm Lillefläsk of Sweden who had too much time on his hands and a clear lack of vision. In a desperate attempt to leave his mark on the universe, he invented squeezable bacon.

Americans have now latched on to this product with joy. It’s available in fine supermarkets such as ThinkGeek, which provided the above pin-up. Vilhelm dodged xenophobia issues in the North American market by injecting his squeez bacon with “American Flavor.” In other words, this product now tastes like air.

Even the slogan of Vilhelm’s product is poor.  He claims that “if it’s edible, it’s better with squeez bacon.” Since nothing will be edible with this raffish topping, his catch phrase is a moot point.

Perhaps Vilhelm will come to his senses.

The author does thank him–and the others who sent this product to culinary abortions–for contributing to this blog.

The Canadian government has now decided to politicize the 2010 Olympics by insisting that athletes wear sealskin ginch (or something of that nature).

While not a culinary abortion per se, this gesture speaks to the dearth of symbolism in the Lonely North: suffering from an identity crisis and unable to distinguish itself from its neighbours in the South, Canada has reached out for an icon. Be it seal.

Nothing says Canada like a blubbery mammal clubbed over the head with a wooden bat.

Now Canada’s Proud Athletes will be wearing this pathetic synecdoche.

Next we’ll see the McSeal burger and deep fried Seal calamari on all of Canada’s menus.

*image courtesy of the Hamilton Spectator

It’s official: Kraft Dinner was not convenient enough. For modern cosmopolites, KD was just too time-consuming. Too many steps were involved. Boiling, buttering, stirring, dumping. These tasks were irksome, if not exhaustive. Luckily, the savants at Kraft came up with a solution.

Carefully tailoring their product to the Modern Age, they successfully reached out to a new niche.

No longer must one boil lousy curlicues of durum. No longer must one struggle with powdered phosphorescent cheese.

With KD Crackers, one gets the nutritional damage of the original meal at a fraction of the labour time. This is truly a marketing breakthrough.

*Thank you to the fine photographer.

Funded retirement now poses a dangerous threat to the industriousness of humankind.

When we consider the problems facing our world–carbon emissions, terrorism, HIV, hunger, crime, war, etc.–the fact that someone has time to crochet a cake is truly depressing.

This paucity of spirit would only be seen in affluent, Western nations. Developing countries do not have the time nor resources to crochet a cake. More importantly, they need to find food and survive.

One may go as far as labeling this abomination as the symbol of our Human Crisis.

How will we know when this Human Crisis is over?

When every individual in every country has the wealth, time and peace-of-mind to create a cloth cake.

In the meantime, this ostentatious display of leisure and status must be abolished. It is as tasteless as it is garrish.

*retarded item courtesy of etsy.com

There was never a greater culinary anachronism than meatloaf.

Do people in the 21st century still eat this awkward centerpiece, and if so, why?

Modern health science has shed light on many discoveries: tobacco is carcinogenic, cocaine is not suitable for cough drops and the Atkins diet will lead to a quick demise. Where our better judgement fails, science intercedes.

A recent article in the National Post suggests that red meat is linked to cancer. Only Western nations consume high quantities of red meat, and this article is not the first to point to potential health risks. Chicken, fish, tofu: these are the cows of the 21st century. We must engage them. The Soda Shoppe age has come to an end, and with it, so has 1954.

No longer must we coat our arteries with butter; no longer must we accept heart disease as a given.

And, most importantly, no longer must we eat a loaf of meat, as if we were a nonagenarian with no better options.

Our parents’ parents may have cooked this up, but for us, there is no need. With the robust range of less nefarious options, we can consume protein without acting like an 92-year-old named Blanche.

The people eating this obscenity are likely still impressed by colour TV, washing machines and space travel.

*Picture courtesy of a superb photographer

Sometimes two volatile substances are paired together much to everyone’s chagrin.

Fine examples of this in history are:

• Kraft dinner and ketchup
• Fish and bicycles
• Sonny and Cher
• Plaid and argyle

More recently, it has come to our awareness that sac and juice are far from illustrious mates. A close cousin of pulp, sac bears a similar congealed texture but with troublesome sexual undertones.

Important questions to ask yourself while drinking this beverage are as follows:

• Will it affect my ability to bear children?
• Will it make me grow a beard?
• Will it add four cup sizes to my chest?
• Do I look like an idiot?

If you answered “yes” to any of the points above,  you should not drink this beverage. The temptation may be hard to fight–especially because of the clever “six fortune” name that implies clairvoyance or other supernatural qualities usually not assigned to juice.

But there are more reasonable alternatives. Even Extra Pulp Tropicana would be a wiser solution than this malfeasance.

*credits to the sage H. Spencer who submitted this photo

Each individual may come to a fork in the road whereby decisions are tough.

Two paths may present themselves, but only one is the glowing, laudable choice. A crucial detour down down a boorish road may significantly stain one’s future.

Now let us apply the above allusion to its source: Cooking with Dr. Pepper. Never was there such a sinister tine–a path of grimness and woe.

This path can be ambushed. It is not too late to detour from the Cooking with Dr. Pepper route. It may take longer to arrive at your culinary destination, but your life may be spared, and your friends, preserved. Bold, promising choices will lie ahead.

There is no boiled potato made reverent by a splash of carbonated glee. There is no pot roast refurbished from a  marinade of caramel colouring and phosphoric acid.

The truth is that–bribes and subpoenas aside–one must occasionally make a choice between two important demoninators. Different factors may be weighed, some logical, some not. But Dr. Pepper should never be one of them. No weight should be assigned to this liquid grime.

Ultimately, meals should continue unabated by its flaws.

*Image courtesy of Gallery of Regrettable Food.

In the dark chamber of our world, there are seldom lights of hope, faith.

But pictured above is a sign that God is active among us.

What could signal His presence more than a tower o’ icing?

• He has come to us at last in the form of a stack of hydrogenated oil.
• He has proven that extraordinary powers can exist among ordinary oreos.
• He has been deified by his plain, biscuit peers.

‘You of little faith,’ he said, ‘why did you doubt?’
Bible, Matthew 14:31

*The author does not endorse any religion or its bastardization.

*Credits to the Creator.

In line with the previous thread, here is another example of how we can learn from the past.

History affords great error and miscalculation, but by documenting our mistakes, we only grow stronger.

“Mistakes” here within are defined as gelatinous cubes suspended in a pool of dairy.

For those who are insterested, this “dessert” was published in a Jell-O “cookbook” from the 1960s. Described as a “spectacular dessert that fits busy schedules,” or as a “stained glass cake” (let’s get honest here), this dessert appears to deserve justification. But we know better. Since the 1960s, lifestyles have become even more hectic and fast-paced. Yet the amount of people eating Jell-O cube cake has not increased.

If this is fare for the “busy schedule,” what would a relaxed schedule beget?

Perhaps we’ll be eating Jell-O slow roast or stuffed, marinated Jell-O with hints of tarragon.

The author is ill.

*Credits to the publisher of this picture

A common theme in the history of humanity is The Poor Decision.

At least once, every individual, society, country and clique is victimized by a paltry and ungoverned choice.

For Twentieth Century North America, this choice was Crystal Pepsi.

Plain and lethargic, Crystal Pepsi won the hearts of the simpleminded. With its lack of caffeine, taste and character, it was a safe choice, adhering to the convention of cola, but not rocking the boat too much.

For some, original Pepsi was too much to handle. It was stimulating, controversial (especially among dentists) and unorthodox. It was a grand beverage, delivering both taste and punch. Consequently, some genius at Pepsi decided to dilute it with water, strip it of its narcotic value and remove the caramel colouring that delightfully stained enamel. It was then re-named after a trite solid that gleams uselessly in Grandma’s dining room cabinet.

Great idea. Luckily it failed. But The Poor Decision is still circulating in society and we must be vigilant–lest it appears again.