Because I Admire Forthrightness

When I stop at the local grocer on my way into a shift in the monkeycage, I almost always at a loss for what I want to eat. A bottle of soda water (preferably San Pellegrino) and a bottle of cheap merlot (Papio has been a stalwart of late) are pretty standard, but I usually wander about aimlessly waiting for some snack item to jump off the shelf at me.

Tonight, I couldn't resist the blunt honesty of this package:



No shuck-n-jive, no marketing spin. We're selling you broken pretzels, period.

What can I say? They spoke to me.