Word: buttering
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Though he has taken pains to construct his literary persona -- a hard- drinking, drug-taking, fast-driving, womanizing hero -- this red-meat kind of guy has mellowed. He still chain-smokes Petit Nobel cigars, but he's given up cocaine and butter, and he even passes up cheeseburgers for chicken sandwiches. "P.J.'s image of himself is probably quite different from the public's perception of him," says friend Denis Boyles. "He might want to appear a bad boy, but I think the way he'd like to appear, sometime in his life, is as a Victorian gentleman." Readers should...
LAST WEEK, for example, I craved a Reeses Peanut Butter Cup. In the depths of a moonless night, I made my way to the convenience store...
Nibbling the chocolate edges, I saved the blast of pure peanut butter for last. It was a chocolate orgasm. It satisfied my desires. But what about the consequences? I mean, two Reeses Peanut Butter Cups were well on their way through my digestive system, and, in my hand, I held what was left. I felt awfully guilty. Guilty for my greed, guilty for my poor diet, but, mainly, guilty for producing what was, with respect to the foodstuff it had contained, a lot of garbage...
After all, the bright orange wrapper designed to catch our eyes in the candy isle is just the beginning of the creature that is a Reeses wrapper. Inside lies an additional piece of waxed paper. Also, each peanut butter cup sits in its own brown paper wrapper. As if that wasn't enough, the Reeses folks add an additional piece of white cardboard, presumably to give the whole package that special mmphh...
...guilty, too. My Reeses Peanut Butter Cups are jamming our landfills. The exhaust from my Nissan is polluting our air and contaminating our seas. My large popcorn and medium Coke coat the floors of movie theaters across the country. I am a relentless consumer. I have created this world of plastic products and disposable containers. I shower under water warmed by fossil fuels and I keep my hands warm with the wool of a sheep and the smooth skin of a once-lovely deer. I write for a newspaper that reels of 4000 copies a day. My trash can bulges...