For most of my adult life I’ve believed that when human civilization ended via nuclear weapons, biological warfare, or reality television, intelligent alien life would arrive thousands of years later to view the aftermath of our hubris and discover boxes and boxes of Twinkies, still fresh and filled with radioactive resistant preservatives.
More often than not this scenario included cockroaches, kind of a post-apocalyptic Hostess orgy, but the Twinkies were definitely going to be in the money shot. And you’re welcome for that image that is now embedded in your brain.
But with Hostess filing for bankruptcy and ceasing operations, I have to wonder if this isn’t another omen that the Mayans were right and the world as we know it will end on December 21, 2012. After all, the tell-tale signs of the end of the world have been coming fast and furious.
First, everyone started wearing Crocs. Then Snooki got pregnant and Dick Clark died. Dick Clark has been overseeing the New Year since the McKinley administration, for crying out loud. Natural disasters hit everywhere: tsunamis and tornadoes and superstorms. Finally, Here Comes Honey Boo Boo debuted on TLC. If that’s not enough to convince you that a giant pile of you-know-what is about to hit the proverbial fan, I don’t know what is.
And now this. The end of Twinkies. The Twinkpocalypse. Twinkiegeddon. Call it whatever you want. But if even Twinkies are doomed to extinction, then what hope does that leave for humanity?
I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m buying up all the Twinkies I can and building a bunker out of them. Or maybe I’ll just eat as many as I can and pack myself so full of preservatives that I’ll be impervious to whatever is coming. But I know one thing for sure: my birthday is on December 20, so I’ll be throwing a big party. Just don’t expect me to share my Twinkies.
It’s a BYOT event.