Covert Evil

The first post on this blog was about my hatred of peanuts in peanut butter cookies.  If you have not yet read it I'll give you a few minutes to click around...

There, now as you are now aware, I am THE authority on all things cookie.
Today the weight of this responsibility weighs heavy as I will now discuss another snack related topic.  
I speak of the horrid happening of raisins masquerading as chocolate chips in muffins, cookies, scones, and other snack type things.

Would you care for a mouthful of disappointment?

 First and foremost, no one likes raisins in things.  A la cart, or in trail mix, raisins are barely passable, which is to say that eating them is preferable to starvation.
If someone tells you that they like raisins they are lying or living with oppositional defiance disorder or depression.  In other words, they are being contrarian because they were abused as a child or do not believe that they deserve good things in life

A grape may be thought of as any high school graduate; full of potential and life and dreams, and excited about what tomorrow may bring.  The raisin is that same graduate fifteen years later with an amphetamines problem working as a bagger at Winco.

Raisins being a terrible excuse for food can be traced back to biblical times.  I mean the word sin is right in the name.  For generations scientists and philosophers have debated as to whether evolution or a higher power is responsible for the mouth crime that is Raisins.  The Hopi Indians had a legend that the grape had bested the Sun at Mario Kart, and was thus punished.

 
Yeah it may be a bit sweet, but it's the wrong kind of sweet, like the little kids in the video for Black Hole Sun. 

Creepy

Not only are they the wrong kind of sweet, but they are small and dark and, due to my general optimistic nature, when I see something small and dark embedded in a treat, I expect it to be a chocolate chip.  Much in the same way that when someone hands me a glass filled with a clear liquid I expect it to be water, or vodka, not hydrogen peroxide.

More evidence of the guile present in raisins is their wholesale attempt at gaining mainstream acceptance by attempting to leech off of the innate coolness of African American culture.

This is basically fruit in black face.

Allow me to take this time to remind you that if you find yourself disagreeing with me then you may take comfort in the fact that you are incorrect as I am THE cookie authority.  Yes, they may be frequently found in the company of oatmeal.  I have warned oatmeal several times that people WILL judge you by the company you keep.  I feel that in this way oatmeal is like a misinformed Luke Skywalker.  Oatmeal senses that there was once good in the raisin.  But unlike Vader, all the righteousness and virtue has been baked out of the snack formerly known as tasty.

I have my own theory. Raisins may suck due to their origin.  A grape is plump, juicy, and sweet.  Wine is a classy way to get drunk.  If you take all the fun out of a grape by sucking out it's nectar and robbing it of the ability to get you tipsy, then you are left with a husk of all of it's awesome potential.  A raisin reminds us on a psychological level of what may have been.  You are not just tasting the raisin, but also the dream of you playing center field for the Red Sox, or your band hitting it big, or that attractive person that you were going to ask out and never did.  You are tasting your failure.

L&P

Cookie Authority

There are few things in life in which I may call myself an authority.  Archery for example, is something that I know a lot about.  Stand up comedy is another topic that I feel I may speak intelligently.  Finally, cookies.  No I did not attend a culinary academy.  Nor do I hold a bakers certification, assuming there is such a thing.  Seems like there would be.  I mean I guess they let any dink with a bag of flour and some eggs around an oven but to do it professionally shouldn't there be some kind of test?
I don't mean food handlers card either, that is a topic for another day.
I mean a bakers license.  Like one with your picture, address, and cup size (for females, or fat males I mean we are talking bakers here).  Seems like there would have to be a lot of infrastructure to put into place before issuing such a license.
  After all, what is the point if acquiring a license if there is no one to demand to see it?  What I'm saying here is we need baking police, baking court, and even, yes, baking jail.
Which, in a weird way, brings me to my point.
When I want a peanut butter cookie, I am putting an emphasis on the butter aspect of peanut butter cookie.  Soft, delicious, bad for me butter.

                                                                          (like this)

 The cookie portion of the equation is irrelevant as it is only serving as the delivery system which the butter is entered into my body.  I could care less if the peanut butter is in cookie form, bar form, or the form of a third world dictator.  On a side note, third world dictators would be so much less intimidating if they were made of peanut butter.  Someone should get on that.
The peanut portion of this magical concoction is only important so far as flavor goes, not texture.  I am going to repeat that last part as I feel that the peanut butter cookie problem facing our nation seems to stem from this misunderstanding, NOT the texture.  I have, at several points in my life, purchased a peanut butter cookie sight unseen as I feel that there should be a universal understanding as to what a peanut butter cookie entails.
Perhaps I may take some of the blame purchasing cookies that I have not visually inspected myself.  But I choose to put trust in humanity and feel that to give said treat the hairy eyeball prior to the exchange of funds may be construed as insulting. And I'm a classy mother fucker.
  When I give another human being or trained ape currency and receive a cookie of peanut butter origin in return then open the taste delight only to find it littered with actual peanuts, I feel as though fraud has taken place.

                                                                           (NOT this)

You see dear reader I ordered a peanut BUTTER cookie, not a peanut cookie.
At this point in time you may think to yourself, "But some people LIKE them like that."  I can assure you, that those people are wrong.
Do not try muddy the waters of the crime with your childish understanding of concepts such as free will.  I am sure that my passion for the topic far outweighs anyone's "logic".  Also do not attempt to act as an authority due to a distant relation to George Washington Carver, or a friendship with Mr. Peanut.
George Washington Carver has nothing to do with this and if I ever see Mr. Peanut again he'll need more than a cane, he'll need a fucking rascal to get around... he knows what he did.

                                                             (I will have my vengeance)


 Back to my point.
Peanut butter cookies should contain no whole, halved, or quartered peanuts.  Only peanuts in smooth buttery form.
My view is correct on this topic for two simple reasons.  First and foremost, I am correct because I am right.  This may sound like circular logic, but circular logic is better than no logic at all.  Also, the wheel is arguable to most important invention of man, and it's a circle.  So how do you like that?
Secondly, I am correct because those of differing opinion are wrong.  So so very wrong.  If they are wrong, then by default, I am right.
Some bakers may simply add the peanuts into the peanut butter cookie as a show of good faith so that those consuming the cookie may have evidence of the cookies taste of origin.  Well that seems a little TOO convenient if you ask me.  Like if you just HAPPEN to have a picture of you using an ATM at the moment your neighbor's cat is mauled by an opossum.  Sounds like a frame job to me.

In closing I recommend the following changes to civilization as we know it; a bakery judicial system wherein those found guilty of cookie fraud are to be baked into pie and served to the criminally insane, fanny packs to be made of explosive materials, and a service for blind people where those that they are dating are brought before a panel of individuals who are not seeing impaired and rated on a scale of 1 to 10 based solely on their ability to apply make up to dogs.

L&P