The other favorite thing to do with a Twinkie was to take a bite, chew it up, and then stick out my tongue and gross out my sisters and brothers with the masticated mess in my mouth. We'd howl with laughter and feigned revulsion and fall on the floor in hysteria. I'm not sure why that was so funny, but I remember it being hilarious.
Mother always tried to put a Hostess Treat in our lunch boxes. Twinkies were a favorite, but so were the Golden Chocolate Cupcakes, HoHos, Devil Dogs, and Ding Dongs.
Hostess Fruit Pies, on the other hand, were a bit too substantial. I could never finish the thing without my sides hurting and my belly feeling way too full. I often saved it for an after school snack.
Hostess Treats were a little something special my mother provided for us kids, no doubt to take the sting from the monotony of a bologna or peanut butter and jell sandwich and a piece of fruit.
It was also a sign of our emerging affluence after my mother returned to work in the sweat shop. We were saving up to buy a home of our own, but, along the way, we could afford "store bought" desserts, and wasn't that just a symbol that the American Dream was real?
If you work hard enough, and "pick yourself up by your own bootstraps," you, too, could afford to have store bought treats in your lunch box.
That's all gone now. Hostess has declared bankruptcy, a victim of a prolonged and difficult labor dispute. Some blame Obamacare on its demise (of course - just like Hurricane Sandy was responsible for the re-election of Mr. Obama).
The truth is that Hostess is owned by two private hedge-fund companies. You know, the kind Mr. Romney ran that favors bankruptcy over actually finding compromise with the workers for fair wages so the "investors" can leave the table with money in their pockets. It's the same think that might have happened to GM and Chrysler if the government hadn't stepped in.
Twinkies were called “the cream puff of the proletariat,” so I suppose, since the election campaign was all about saving the middle class, we shouldn't be surprised that there was no government intervention to Save the Twinkie, much less the HoHo or the Ding Dong.
Still, it makes me very sad. The Twinkie is so much a part of American culture, it's hard to imagine what life will be like without it. I mean, with all those chemicals in it, I thought they would last forever. There's even a scene in the animated film “WALL-E”, which is set hundreds of years in the future, where the only surviving species is the cockroach, and its favorite food is an abnormally fresh Twinkie. (Folklore aside, a Twinkie’s shelf life is two to three weeks.)
Even though I haven't actually eaten any Hostess pastries (and, I'm being very liberal with that term) in - oh, gosh! - it's got to be at least 25 years, there was something wonderful about going into the WaWa or Seven Eleven and seeing rows and rows of the stuff.
Fast food places like MacDonalds or Burger King will have to become the defense for erratic, homophobic, homicidal behavior that killed Harvey Milk. Remember? It was the "Twinkie Defense" that spared Dan White a Murder One charge and got it reduced to voluntary manslaughter.
Mr. White apparently didn't learn the lesson of jurisprudence and kept on eating them, which apparently led - a few years later - to his suicide.
I don't believe Twinkies - or, HoHos, Devil Dogs and Ding Dongs - are intrinsically evil. I ate lots of them growing up and never once shot and killed a homosexual person.
I do occasionally struggle with homicidal ideations about Hedge Fund Companies but I don't think that has anything to do with Hostess Treats. It probably has more to do with indigestion caused by an overindulgence in too much MSNBC.
Here's the thing: 18,500 people are out of a job, and an iconic product will cease production unless another firm scoops up the brand.
If GM and Chrysler are worth saving, isn't there anyone who is willing to Save the Twinkie? Workers, arise! Save the "cream puff of the proletariat"!
I mean, what are the cockroaches of the future going to have to eat? How will archeologists of the future find our bodies without the soft glow created by all the various preservatives and chemicals in just one Twinkie?
Does this signal the death of the American Dream?
I think I'm going to have to go out and buy a package of Hostess Twinkies. Or, a HoHo or Ding Dong. The next time I feel the urge to find an owner of a Hedge Fund Company and slap him silly, I'll take out a Twinkie, listen for the pop of the cellophane wrapper, remove one of the always super-moist finger cakes, and take a big bite. Then, I'll chew it up and keep it in my mouth.
I'll have to have someone take a picture of me, sticking out my tongue with a masticated mess of Twinkies on it and send it to the Hedge Fund owners of Hostess.
It won't change anything, I'm sure, but it will make me feel better. I may even laugh and laugh and laugh, until I fall over on the floor.
Just consider it my own form of "Twinkie Defense" against the depression and sadness I feel losing all these symbols of my childhood.
Is nothing sacred any more?
16 comments:
Very fancy you were, by our standards - no "store bought" treats in our world, but then your allowance (two shiny quarters, if I recall correctly) was double mine. But when it was just me and my mom, we began to make a list of all the things we had never eaten and Twinkies was on the list ... since neither of us was all that thrilled by yellow cake (we were dark chocolate fanatics), we got just one pack, one each, just to cross them off our list, decided they were okay, but that we hadn't been missing much. Still, I wish all those bakers and packers and otherwise invisible workers could keep their jobs ... maybe someone will hit the lottery and save them instead of buying a yacht.
I suspect the buyer has already been lined up for the snack line. I suspect that they had been posturing for months trying to figure out how to liquidate, and the striking workers gave them their convenient out. I suspect they were going to eliminate their jobs all along, now they have a "reason" to "blame" it on and save face in the Rich Boys World. I have thought about how much attention has been given to a piece of crap pastry and how much drama has ensued, and that the 1% has been playing us for fools. Yeah, I admit I suspect a lot.
Save the unionized bakers.
This "We're shutting down and liquidating" is merely ANOTHER tactic by the 1% to screw the 99%. Let the workers own and manage the company then!
I grew up in the land of Tastycakes. No Hostess products ever crossed my lips. Can't say I'd miss the product, but the jobs are another story! I make no claims to knowledge, but if there are hedge fund investors at the helm, I doubt it can be good for the worker.
Marthe - As I remember, the taste wasn't so great. It was the idea of the Twinkie that was so delicious. Get one while they are still available. It's never too late to have a happy childhood.
Kirke - I suspect you are absolutely right. It's pretty transparent, isn't it. Pathetic is another word that comes to mind.
JCF - Right you are. I think Kirke is spot on.
Howdi - The whole thing smells like....well, old, stale Tastecakes. Because, you know, Twinkies can't get old and stale. They'll be here after Jesus takes us up in the Rapture.
I confess that I have eaten a ding dong fairly recently, probably a month or so ago on a road trip. However the most disgusting thing I ever ate at the Minnesota state fair was a deep fried twinkie. Does this mean that wonder bread is also extinct. I read somewhere that hostess is owned by Interstate Brands Inc, or IBI, which also owns wonder bread. But maybe the subsidiary is going under not the whole enterprise.
Matthew - I think deep fried Twinkies were actually one of Elvis' favorites. That and deep friend peanut butter, banana and bacon sandwich - on Wonder Bread (also a casualty, of course. And we wonder why he died so young.
This has turned into a Big news story - the focus of which is about the two hedge fund companies that bought Hostess managed it badly, made their profits and now are selling out the workers.
I was just sad about losing Twinkies but I hope it gets lots of press.
And let us not forget that the succubi in hedge fund suits will pay their taxes as capital gains filtered through a maze of evasive loopholes and deductions, not as earned income, even as they destroy the wages and jobs and pensions and benefits of the people actually earning paychecks with sweat and burns and injuries of repetition and genuine effort. "Makers", they call themselves - fakers is more like it ... and we're supposed to back off and apologize when they get their delicate feelings hurt by being called fat cats ... breathe, 2, 3, 4 ... fair is where they give out ribbons for best pie and exemplary bovine grooming. As you might say, dear EK, le sigh.
Fakers? I can think of another word to call them that begins with "F".
You know, when I started to write this, I was just really lamenting the loss of Twinkies. As this story unfolds, there's a lot more to this story than chemically engineered cupcakes. "The cream puff of the proleteriat" has been taken away by fat cats saying, "Let them eat cake."
I'm pissed.
F? Might you mean Filthy Filchers Fulminating Falsehoods? Fabricators or Fabulists or Feral Financers?
The one I think you mean I don't use because I cling to the idea that that perfectly good old English word for consensual intimacy ought not to be used as a weapon or expression of violence in any form ... oh, and I don't think they deserve any really good sex ever again. :-)
Gee, Marthe, tell us what you really feel. Don't hold back, now. LOL.
Ah, well, holding back ... not so much anymore.
If there is a Society for Creative Precision Cussing, I've not been able to locate it, but I dooooo admire specificity in the realm of the expletive ... that hedge fund guy? Maybe his father was a fool with a fetish for fetid floral flounces, and it may be genetic as his Y chromosome deficiencies are all daddy's fault, so it only makes sense to leave his mama out of it ... but whatever works for you is all good ... without laughter we would certainly perish.
Amen, Marthe. Amen.
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