Note to self: When I think of flooding, I think of Asians.
Recently, the city of Nashville experienced a natural disaster of epic proportions (some drama added). Perhaps you heard about it? The Flood? Wait…you didn’t hear about the flood?
During the first day of the minor storm I decided I should make a trip to the local grocer to stock up on some necessities: a small ax, agent orange, saffron, eye of newt, and lard. It was the Boy Scout mantra reverberating in my mind: Be Prepared. There were whispers of a possible water shortage–I made sure to add beer to the list.
I definitely underestimated the weather conditions. As we made our way to our usual market of choice, we were forced to activate plan B since the location had been compromised and was currently under water. I’m sure to any normal person, that might have been the cue to turn around and go home—no doubt convincing themselves they could survive on top ramen for a couple days. And if things turn really desperate, there is always the neighbor’s dog. NO. Batman and I will not be intimidated. I already had an evacuation plan should we be swept away by the rushing waters of Nolensville Rd. It was messy, but we would both make it out alive. So we went for it. Plan B.
We arrived at our alternative grocer (by alternative I do not mean the open market where you can buy live snakes and midgets). I was pleased to see the parking lot was not overtaken by a mob of hysterical people who most likely did not know how to swim given the primary demographic. On the contrary, things seemed to be going quite smoothly. We made it to our destination in one piece, found desirable parking, and the rain had let up just enough to disengage the umbrella. I felt good about things, despite our state of emergency. But it wouldn’t last.
Upon entry, my eyes quickly darted around to assess the layout. Women do this in order to ascertain the path of least resistance. An experienced woman can navigate the isles of a grocery store successfully managing to acquire everything on her list in less than 5 minutes…with finesse. Men, on the other hand, will go in for two items: Toilet paper and soap. 1 hour later they will leave with chips, sausages, and a six pack…the kind you drink. This is not the point though.
I really believed that we were going to make it out of the grocery store with no interruptions or any of the usual problems that might arise from having a 4 year old in tow. But there I went, presumptuously asserting my optimism. GEEEZE! WHAT’S WRONG WITH ME?!?! It would not be the case. As we made our way to the check out line something seemed to hurl a silent insult at me from a shelf. I felt it burn its offense into the side of my face as I zoomed down the isle. I could not ignore my peripheral senses—I had to turn and look. What grocery item, due to its presence alone, could cause a physical manifestation of discomfort within me? I will tell you. It was the Helper—but not the one that helps hamburger. This helper wanted to help me. It was the ASIAN HELPER. Please—put your hand over your mouth now as if to symbolize your disbelief. No? You think this is okay? Hmmm. You must be white.
Let’s examine the implications of this for a moment, shall we? Betty Crocker has long since made her mark on American cuisine with her vast array of boxed foods. What she is perhaps best known for is her Hamburger Helper casserole boxed dinners. Don’t act like you don’t know. Flavor packet, noodles, and meat that YOU add. Betty never realized how popular her creation would become. She had to keep up with the demand so she created other boxed casseroles: Tuna Helper, Chicken Helper. It seems the variety was complete. You had a land roamer, a bird, and a fish option. What more could you have a taste for? It seems Betty has answered this question–according to her at least. Clearly she felt her collection would not be complete unless she gave us a more risqué option. Deviant really. Follow this logic: You add hamburger to Hamburger Helper, you add tuna to Tuna Helper. Asian Helper: Just add Asians. Betty Crocker is really pushing the envelope with cannibalism in a box.
Is this some sick/radical form of population control? Obviously not stemming from the Eugenics movement because everyone knows that Asians are right up there with Indians when it comes to intelligence. Go ahead and roll your eyes as you read this from your computer. . .powered by parts that ASIANS invented. Nevermind that. The point is there is a glaring error in the consistency of Betty Crocker’s “Helping” line of boxed dinners. You simply cannot have an Asian Helper. It doesn’t make sense. Who ever decided that Asians needed help anyways? They seem to be doing okay. Despite Kim Jong Il.
I’m not one of those crazy Asian, Crazians. You know, the kind that are elitist in their Asianism? I do that quite well without the Asian. The Asian part is just a bonus. But seriously, I do believe that ‘fellow-yellows’ should unite on this one and rally against the suggestions of cooking Asians for dinner—all in the name of convenience. My God…have mercy on our souls. Try to catch an Asian with the intention of cooking her–it will be far from convenient. This is why Betty Crocker gets and EPIC FAIL for Asian Helper. I realize it’s way cool to do the Asian thing these days. I know. It’s a huge burden being as cool as I am. It’s not my fault I was born from a superior race. A race that I can guarantee you is not keen on the idea of being advertised as needing help. Do you know what would happen if there were the induction of a Negro Helper? Stop. Think. (Laugh). Act.
Join me in my battle to stop the CROCKer from infiltrating America with more racist/bad food. God Bless America and God Bless Asians.
In Case you were wondering. . . This is what cooked Asians Looks like: