How To Eat A Pop-Tart Correctly

Time for your weekly edition of the Defector Funbag. Got something on your mind? Email the Funbag. You can also read Drew over at SFGATE, and buy Drew’s books while you’re at it. Today, we’re talking cooking violence, living with your own mediocrity, actors as P.I.s, and more.

Your letters:

Mick:

What is the correct way to eat Pop Tarts? Toasted, or raw? Broken into pieces, or whole? Save the end with more frosting for last, or eat it first?

This is the most important question this column has ever received. People might tell you there’s no wrong way to eat a Pop-Tart. Those people deserve to be chained to a cinder block and thrown into the ocean. There is only one way to eat a Pop-Tart: my way. Here are your marching orders.

1. Remove the Pop-Tart from the packaging.
2. Toast the Pop-Tart until the center and the edges are perfectly golden brown. There is only a three-second window in the toasting process to get your Tart cooked just right, so you will make mistakes. If you should burn your Pop-Tart, simply feed it to your pet anaconda and begin the process all over again.
3. Remove the Pop-Tart from the toaster. Attempt to wait a few minutes before eating, so as not to burn your mouth. Fail.
4. Nibble around the around the edges of the Pop-Tart so that all of the crust has been removed.
5. Break the remaining Tart into four pieces.
6. Heaven.

Congratulations. You have successfully eaten a Pop-Tart. If you spot another person eating their Pop-Tart in any other fashion, call the police and have them arrested.

Here is where I confess that I haven’t eaten a Pop-Tart in many years. I wish I could eat nothing but Pop-Tarts, but I have to mind my health. Also, I can’t have that sort of junk food littering the house for our kids to gorge on. Oh, but if I could just indulge once in a while, and enjoy a Pop-Tart the way I did back when I was a child. We have a 14-year-old son, and one of his formative memories is when we rented an Airbnb outside of Busch Gardens for spring break and he got to eat Pop-Tarts in his bed. That was 10 years ago, and he still brings it up fondly. Still asks to eat Pop-Tarts in bed (we don’t let him).

That’s how good Pop-Tarts are, especially the frosted brown sugar/strawberry flavors. We tried buying “healthy” Pop-Tarts once, from one of those organic brands called Nature’s Bounty or some shit like that. It wasn’t the same. Of course it wasn’t the same. I don’t want a natural Pop-Tart. I want one that was grown in a lab using synthetic xanthan gum and stem cells from a dead blue whale. The resulting flavor profile is what makes the Pop-Tart one of America’s greatest contributions to world history.

God, I’m so mad I’ve already eaten breakfast. Time for a stealth mission to the 7-Eleven for an impromptu brunch.

Kevin:

Given all of this wallet talk lately, I have a confession to make. For the past six months I’ve been using a koozie as a wallet. Where does this rank on the “CVS receipt to Ziplock bag” scale of sicko behavior?

Well, at least you’re using an actual storage container. And one vaguely shaped like a wallet when pressed flat, so that’s nice. A beer koozie might even help keep your ATM card nice and cool on a hot summer day. I think I’ll allow this, so long as you don’t try to put any loose change in there. You understand why that would be ill-advised.

I feel old talking about wallets at all, really. Wallets are a relic of the analog era. Phones are wallets now. If my kids aren’t carrying their vital documents in their respective Apple wallets, they’re tucking their physical documents/cash into the back of their phone case. It makes me wonder if I should have a wallet at all. Doesn’t exactly look flattering to have that lump in my front pocket. Looks like I got a charley horse from Mike Tyson.

Ryan:

How do you find what you’re good at? I was really good at school, and taking tests, and I excel at a couple hobbies, but nothing that I can make a living at. I’ve plodded through a few placeholder roles in the last few years, but I can’t stand to be such a mediocrity. I put a premium on working places making a positive impact, and have managed to do so thus far, but I’m performing at or below replacement-level for them (despite my best effort!), and it kind of feels like I’m doing more harm than good. I KNOW there must be stuff I could excel at, I haven’t lost hope yet. I know I showed promise earlier in life, and I just have to translate it to the professional world. How do you go about doing that?

Well look, I just taught you how to excel at eating Pop-Tarts. From there it’s a very quick ascension to CEO of Earth.

OK, let me put the joke box away for a moment. You’ve got a lot of knots to untie here, Ryan. First of all, how do you know that you’re bad at your current job? Have all of your evals gone poorly? Do you get fired a lot? Or do you just feel as if you’re not very good at what you do? If the answer to that last question is “yes,” then it could tie into a larger problem you’re having with your self-esteem. Or you could feel inferior simply because you know that your heart isn’t in your work, so you don’t really WANT to be good at it. You believe, like we all do, that you were made for greater things, and you feel like shit because your current job isn’t fulfilling whatever higher, but still vague, purpose you might have.

First of all, we’ve all been there. Every single one of us. The midlife-crisis phenomenon was borne out of this exact neurosis. It’s a distinctly American affliction. You and I are conditioned, from birth, to believe that our self-worth is directly tied to how we earn a living, and how much money that job makes us. That means that all of us are encouraged to only seek out areas of personal achievement that we can somehow transmute into professional success. You turn on the TV and you see famous people making bank doing what they love. You watch a playoff game and see grown men on the losing side break down in tears because they didn’t come in first place. You walk outside and there’s always someone passing by who has more than you, and you wonder how they got so lucky and not you. That’s the toxicity of the American Dream.

So of course tens of millions of Americans who don’t get to live their dream risk feeling unfulfilled. “Is this all there is?” they ask. Just like you, Ryan. You look at your own station in life and, because this is America, you assume that you haven’t risen any higher because you’re not good enough at anything. You suck. You’re a “mediocrity,” to use your own words.

You do not suck, you are not a mediocrity, and none of this is your fault. I don’t know if that’s comforting coming from a guy who DID find a way to earn a nice living doing something he’s good at. But somebody needs to tell you that you’re worth something, even if you’re not the No. 1 ranked neurosurgeon in the world or whatever the fuck. You do not have to be the best at what you do to earn your paycheck. Besides, right now this joint is being run by people who are bad at virtually EVERYTHING, which debunks the notion that capitalism breeds meritocracy. Even if capitalism did live up to the hype, the analytics say that the vast majority of people on Earth still don’t get to be the absolute best at something, or even the among the best at something. There’d be no best otherwise, which is why people like me would prefer a government that provides basic services and support to everyone, and not just to The Special People. That way, people can find satisfaction with their lives through avenues other than just a job.

America, as you know, doesn’t have that government presently. Quite the contrary. All we have is each other, so I’ll leave Ryan here with one more message: You can still be good at something. More than likely, you’re already good at something, you either just don’t know it or you don’t think it’s valuable. But if you still feel as if you haven’t found your personal calling, there’s still time. Think about what you love to do right now, even if it’s something stupid. Especially if it’s something stupid. Think about why you love whatever that thing is, and then learn more about it. If you love beer, learn how to make beer. If you love sitting on the couch, learn what makes one couch more comfortable than another. Do NOT worry about whether or not this’ll make you more money. It doesn’t fucking matter; your job is one thing and your passion is another. They never need to lock hands. Greatness always starts with curiosity, so stay curious and see where life takes you from there. This pep talk is over.

HALFTIME!

Dylan:

If Apple can label an incoming phone call “Potential Spam” why can’t they auto-block that shit?  Why do I have to delete the same scam loan message 12 times a day when they already know it’s a scammer/robot calling me?

Excuse me, but those calls are labeled “Spam Risk,” not “Potential Spam.” I know this because one of my favorite dad jokes to tell goes like this: my phone rings, I check it, and then I tell the rest of my family, “Oh, it’s Spam Risk! My bestest friend!” Never gets old, I tell you! Sometimes Apple will switch it up and label the number “Telemarketer,” but the joke still works for that variant as well. I am the comedy master.

Anyway, why won’t Apple automatically block these callers? Probably because of some shitty law somewhere that forbids it. Or because they have some sort of tacit agreement with other slop providers to leave the door ajar. After all, the American marketing industry now subsists almost entirely of outright fabrication, so the providers of all that fabrication have to keep up appearances with one another. That’s why blocking people on Gmail is still a complete pain in the ass, and always will be. It’s incumbent upon companies like Google to appear as if they’re protecting you from the bullshit. In reality, it pays for them to make it as hard as possible for their consumers to screen that bullshit out. God knows what their quarterly earnings report would look like if they shut the door entirely.

Todd:

What famous living actor has the best “P.I.” name?

I like this question, because there are so many different ways you can take it. You can reach for a truly ludicrous actor name, like Benedict Cumberbatch, and have it work. But what if you really want your P.I. to sound like they mean business? Well then you could opt for a more forceful name, like Tom Hardy. Or Delroy Lindo, who would clearly be a P.I. who isn’t afraid to get really deep into the shit.

But if you’d prefer a more whimsical fictional P.I., like one you might find headlining a USA Network original, Sydney Sweeney is right there for the taking. Or you could veer into the paranormal and opt for a spookier name, like Amanda Seyfried. Did I just think of Sydney Sweeney and Amanda Seyfried because Google TV keeps pushing me to watch The Housemaid, a movie that stars both women and is exactly the kind of movie you think it is? Probably. But hey, the names work. Much better than V.I. Warshawski. I’m convinced that movie flopped because the name of its title character was so weak. If you’re a private dick, you shouldn’t have a name that makes you sound like the owner of Eau Claire, Wisconsin’s favorite Polish delicatessen.

As to which famous living actor has the worst P.I. name, that’s Timothee Chalamet. Not even a question. I’m pinching to zoom out on Google Maps if that’s the first name that turns up in my search. I can barely take that man seriously as a Knicks fan with that name.

Ian:

Is the Kawhi Leonard buzzer-beater the best sports moment of the 21st-century?

Good choice, but no. It’s this:

There are still 74 years left in the century, and I genuinely don’t think anything that happens in that timespan will beat this.

Allison:

So I’m 32 years old and got my license for the first time last year. I’ve been driving a whole lot ever since, and I’ve seen a lot of “New Driver” bumper magnets. While I don’t really believe these stickers actually change anyone’s on-road behavior, I was wondering… when does a new driver stop being new?

When they get their license. That’s always been my criteria and always will be. If you’re 15 and on your learner’s permit, you’re a new driver. But once you get that license and are free to drive whenever and wherever, you’re just another driver like the rest of us. You will be offered no quarter, and I won’t give you any. Any newly licensed driver who keeps that stupid magnet on their bumper should feel ashamed of themselves. Also, congrats Allison!

Alex:

My wife recently made soup for dinner. We had extra, so I opened the Tupperware drawer and realized all of our rounder, deeper containers were in use. I had to put the soup into a shallow, rectangular receptacle. It all fit, but this just felt unseemly to me. Soup belongs in a round container. Are there any other foods that need to be in a certain shape of container?

Yeah, putting soup in a shallow container makes me break into hives. It doesn’t have to be a circular Tupperware, but it should feel like a vessel intended to hold soup. Putting that soup into a Tupperware more fit for a PB&J sandwich feels wrong. Is wrong. I hate it. Same with putting leftover grilled chicken into a vertical container. Meat on the bone doesn’t belong in something the shape of a Pringles can.

Ron:

I chopped off the tip of my left thumb tonight while dicing onions for a batch of chili. I realized immediately what I had done and went to bandage the wound. Upon returning to the kitchen, I first looked to see if any blood had been spilled on the ingredients. Nope. Then I looked for the corresponding chunk of human flesh. In this case, I found it on the knife. That meant I could wipe off the knife and continue chopping onions without getting rid of what I had already chopped. No part of me was going to end up in tomorrow’s chili. All’s well that ends well. Except it got to thinking: how many pounds of human flesh are unintentionally served up and eaten every day worldwide? I figured 22.9 pounds after doing some fancy math. That seems low. What do you think?

First of all, kudos to you for being so hygienic in the kitchen. There’s no chance I would throw out a bunch of diced onions just because I got a drop of blood on them. In fact, I’ve probably served blood-tainted food to my wife and kids dozens of times. They’re still alive. I feel validated.

Anyway, to your question: Do you consider the epidermis to be human “flesh,” or do you want to go the full Virginia Supreme Court and parse the definition of that word in much greater detail? Because cooking-wise, the flesh of an animal is the meat of it. Your little swatch of thumbprint wouldn’t count under that definition, nor would your blood. If we counted all of that as flesh, then we could safely say that way more than 22.9 pounds of flesh are served and consumed daily on this planet.

But if you only want to count the meat of the human body, then … well ,then it’s still probably above that number. I have to account for countries (like this one!) that have lax regulations when it comes to food processing, and also the possibility of still-active cannibalistic societies on the planet. And don’t forget serial killers! Some serial killers eat their prey! Do we still have serial killers? There were like a million of them back in the 1980s: Ted Bundy, John Wayne Gacy, Jeffrey Dahmer, all the greats. We should bring back serial killers, if only for the documentary content!

Patrick:

If you’re driving somewhere that is one to two hours away, would you rather take the route that’s less time overall but you’re stuck in stop and go traffic for a good chunk of the trip, or the route that takes ten to fifteen minutes longer, but is constantly moving? I’ve been struggling with this for some time, and as a Certified Road Trip Expert, I’m curious about your thoughts.

I am definitely not a certified road trip expert. I’m just another crazy dad who wants to make decent time. Dime a dozen. That said, I would never opt for a stop-and-go road trip over taking the highway. Even if the GPS tells me the backroads are faster, I won’t believe it. Also, stop-and-go driving is exhausting. It takes more out of me to drive around Tysons Corner than it does driving all the way to Baltimore. I want a highway, and I want it clear.

This is why, when I drive up to my mom’s house and points beyond, I always defy the GPS and use the Tappan Zee Bridge (it’s now the Mario Cuomo Bridge, but fuck that guy’s family). The GPS always wants me to take the GW Bridge through NYC. And when I defy its orders and head for the Tappan Zee, it always tries to get me to hop onto the Saw Mill Parkway back down toward Manhattan. Never, GPS. You hear me? I will NEVER take the fucking Saw Mill Parkway. You’re not human, so you don’t know what driving on that pothole-infested hellroad feels like. So stuff it.

Michael:

When does normal and acceptable fandom tip into toxic fandom? I believe you’ve said before that your family knows that you need to watch Vikings games alone so that they’re insulated from your rantings and ravings. And every year we get various videos of angry fans taking a baseball bat to their TVs, or whatever. Where’s the line, Drew? For me, pretty much anything beyond a disappointed sigh is borderline toxic, or at best performative. 

Get the fuck outta here.

Email of the week!

Peter:

An email of the week from a while back got me Remembering Some Posters. As a child of the ’90s in Buffalo, New York, I was of course a big collector of various Bills’ posters. Before the NFL licensed everything down to napkin holders, it was an age of bad puns and weird images. I’ve included one below, scavenged from overpriced eBay listings. From what I remember, these would sell for like $5 at the local Tops. Was Buffalo alone in this? Is there similar awful wordplay on posters in 31 other markets? I’d love to know.

My god, it’s so beautiful. I want all of them.