Entry 7: The Non-Potato Chip

A generous friend last week gave me half a big box of the snack-sized bags of Sun Chips. He loves 'em. I didn't remember what they tasted like, and he's my friend, so I took 'em. I love you man, but you and I do not share the same taste in salt-based junk food. The Sun Chips were an unhappy medium between potato chips (always for me the King of the Snacks), and Doritos, which are corn chips that have to be chemically spiced within an inch of their life. That should tell us something about corn chips.

I like them with salsa but they're still bland. I like the Doritos but they're still heavily seasoned. But I like potato chips generally a whole lot more. Give me that. The Sun Chips were bland. In movie analogy terms, they felt like a quick, cynical cash-in of hybrid good parts turned into a lazy, inchoate movie. They have no identity, no point of view of their own. They're the rejects from Dr. Franksenstein's lab. I ate the bags because there was nothing else to eat and I'm that kind of guy—the kind of guy who loves snacks—but I ended up throwing most of the bags away.

I love Mexican food, but give me the flour tortilla over the corn, anytime. The corn is too thick and has the taste I imagine the poor food in Snowpiercer has (apologies to all Latinos: keep reading this series!) Piled high with succulent meat, it's fine, but just by itself, it ain't. There's lots of bread that tastes good as bread.

But I digress. For the really important stuff—the snacks—I have made it a resolution to eat only the potato variety. I'll dip a sour cream and onion chip into queso and pico de gallo. When my friend once again offers me those terrible snacks, I'll pretend not to have heard and change the subject to my colonoscopy or something. (This requires one additional step.)


So a Fuck You to the non-potato chip.