I read it on Facebook, so it must be true. To wit:
“Replacing your potato chips with grapefruit as a snack, you can lose up to 90 per cent of what little joy you still have left in your life.”
It all sounds rather Buddhist, or existential, or nihilistic – but the literal readers of Facebook took it, well, literally.
They started haranguing each other about why you shouldn’t choose grapefruit. It interacts badly with some medicines. It purses up your lips in a bad way. It makes your tummy and your disposition sour.
No one posted in favor of the radiant, the gorgeous, the never-lets-you-down delightfulness of potato chips.
I have done so in previous columns – cherishing my Irish heritage, celebrating potato chips as the pick-me-up you need when people do you wrong.
I haven’t written about the particular feel of potato chips. The aroma of oil, the grainy salt bits on your tongue, the crunch as they enter your watering mouth.
Grapefruit will never make you happy.
Let the chips fall where they may? No. Give them to me.
Grapefruit makes me happy!
I too like grapefruit. 30-Second Read permits its writers to be wrong.
You have both been deluded by fruit, just like Adam and Eve. They should have eaten potato chips.