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Thoughts from the ammo line (Its All A PLOT edition)


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Power Line

Scott Johnson

Aug. 5 2022

Ammo Grrrll is challenged by BREAKING INTO MY FOOD. She writes:

I may have mentioned a time or two that I really enjoy eating. In this pleasure I join a vast horde and, if my Dusty Little Village is any representative sample, getting vaster by the day. And yet all is not Copa-cetic in my world in Maricopa.

It is my belief that Big Food has been trying to make it harder for me to get AT my victuals. Yes, dearly beloved, Big Food, in collusion with Big Packaging, is invested in devising ever more secure packaging to keep my food harder to break into than Fort Knox, or even Joe Vass’s Passwords or Debit Card PIN number. God only knows why. I’m sure they view it as “keeping me safe,” like how safe I feel when Conservative speakers are booed down and sent packing. (Whew! Dodged another unpleasant exposure to facts…)

It is only a matter of time before Nefarious Actors break into my home and hide all my food up in a tree, like we do to keep bears from getting at our S’Mores fixins on campouts.

This insight occurred to me last week when I was trying desperately to open a container of Talenti Gelato (Salted Caramel Truffle). I was introduced to this delight by my bestie’s husband Wayne. He is a connoisseur of frozen confections and generally eats them out of a bread bowl. No, not a bowl made out of bread, but a giant bowl in which us old-school housewives make our own bread.

Talenti Gelato comes in a hard, round plastic container with – for some stupid reason – a brown plastic screw-on top. I am pretty strong generally, but I have small, arthritic hands that can just barely encircle the lid. Because of the very nature of ice cream, it must get sticky around the screw-on part and turn to Gorilla Glue.


Now came the dilemma: in my whole life – it’s one of my yugest Pet Peeves and, as I bet you’ve gathered, I have many – I have never once failed to return my cart to the Cart Corral. Would this be a first?

No! I reasoned that it was already far too late. I had attained Maximum Wetness and a few more minutes would make no difference whatsoever. In fact, I WALKED back as fellow shoppers in their cars looked on in amazement.

And I had a kind of epiphany. I think the Good-Natured, Patriotic, God-Fearing General Public has reached Maximum Drenchedness in the Evil Poop Storm we have been living in for two years. We are going to walk back to sanity calmly and reclaim our country. I feel it. A corner has been turned. I saw a Hispanic guy at breakfast with a t-shirt: “Bidenflation: The Price For Voting Stupidly.” We exchanged thumbs-ups.

John Rich has an extremely popular song out with the refrain “Stick your ‘Progress’ where the sun don’t shine.” With a terrific accompanying video, very uplifting.



Bold Me



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