Another Fig Seduction

Over the weekend, as Bridgette and I were preparing to have guests over to our house, we made our way over to Aldi to get some sodapops and snacky crisps. Midway down the cookie aisle, I noticed a strange feeling in the pit of my stomach. It was neither fear nor apprehension, just a forboding unpleasantness brought on by my surroundings.

I turned to my left and found the source of my unease.
fig-bars.jpg

Now, you may be saying to yourself, “Peter, surely a pound an a half of moderately satisfying fig bars is nothing to get startled about. Hell, your grotesque obsession with Fig Newtons is the stuff of legend. It is perhaps your most appealing characteristic.” To those people, I firmly nod my head in assent. No, the generic fig-treats were the least of my worries (and 1.5 pounds is merely childs play). The problem instead lay with the packaging.

Let’s take a closer look, shall we? Who is the maker of these off-brand, fig-based morsels?

fig-2.jpg

Yikes. No thank you, Daddy Ray.

Who the hell designed this? Seriously, Daddy Ray is some hideous combination of a pre-war Southen plantation owner and an Amish clown. On top of that, his nose looks like it was twisted and mangled in a corn thresher. Who suggested the hair color? Does Daddy Ray live near the site of the Chernobyl disaster?

Anyway, long story short, the Daddy Ray’s fig-nibbles were a big hit at the party, and in the middle of the night I ended up writing a highly emotional, 22-page letter to Daddy Ray himself to thank him.

I have no regrets.

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9 Responses to Another Fig Seduction

  1. Thom says:

    You know, they modelled Daddy Ray after my father. Yes, he was at Chernobyl on that fateful day. Why do you think it’s funny to mock my father? I suppose you want to mock other members of my family? Heartless son of a…

  2. Adam says:

    We need to buy a bunch of those and bring them to the cabin this year. Let’s try and outdo what we did with the chips last year. I mean we aren’t going to have a jet-ski with us so we can go all out.

  3. tim hopps says:

    bring a package of Daddy Rays to my bbq on saturday and make me the happiest man on earth!

    p.s. readers of peter’s blog are all invited to my bbq (that is, if i know you and you don’t hate me). i probably didn’t have all your email addresses (thom’s for one). if you want more info, hit me up at tomhipps@earthlink.net

    (peter–sorry for hijacking your blog for personal use again)

  4. peter says:

    Didn’t you read the email, Adam? We ARE going to have a jet-ski with us, provided people help pitch in to pay for gas.

    But yes, Daddy Ray needs to be at the cabin. He can share my bunk with me.

  5. Figgy says:

    I thought he looked like a comnination of a black plantation worker and a leprechaun. My bad.

    I love to eat fig newtons and pronounce (in a British accent) with every bite, “It’s not a cookie mother. It’s a fruit Newton.”
    Then answer myself with “carry on then, carry on” which is self-permissive to indulge in another.

  6. scott says:

    why does Daddy Ray look like Ernest Borgnine? i think the cookies would be an even bigger hit with a celebrity on the package!

  7. Thom says:

    No, Adam, we should not bring Figs to the cabin. God hates figs.

  8. Daddy Ray once showed up at my house in a leather mini-skirt.

  9. Adam says:

    We are going to have one? Sweet! I am not paying for gas or hauling that damn thing up there.

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