The short plastic-produce-sticker rant

Okay – so you (we are talking the editorial “you” here, of course) paraglide, levitate or teleport into Trader Joes, Whole Foods, Waldbaums -- or any other purveyor of insanely overpriced produce.

You do your best Sunday Quasimodo shuffle across those oh-so expensive terra cotta tile floors. Knowing all the time that you are paying arm and leg, through the nose and up the wazoo for their hideously expensive up keep.

Ah, the organic produce aisle manages to materialize into in your blurry blood-shot eyeshot. All is copacetic. Auuuommmmm. Macro-biotic, hypoallegenic, ecologic. Green as chlorophyll, IPM and bacillus thurigensis.

You behold all manner of manifest globular miracles of Mother Nature. Rivaling Pamela Anderson, the Mark II model. Pears. Citrus. Apples. Tomatoes. Payaya. And melons that equal any pneumatic starlet or pole dancer. You serenely select the best of the bunch, check out and arrive home. Mouth watering for a god’s-nectar-laced bucket of fresh fruit.

The nirvana commences. You eat.

But then slowly mysteriously something swims into your semi-consciousness. You become aware of something foreign in your mouth. And I don’t mean mid-winter Chilean peaches. Your tongue makes like an Indy 500 car scouring your mouth. You fish it out. Only by the slightest chance and greatest luck has the item in question escaped your gullet, esophagus, stomach, duodenum- your entire bustling alimentary canal.

It is a plastic sticker.

It reads “Organic.”

You discover identical stickers affixed to each and every one of the examples of the fruit you have purchased.

Oh you see. The same mentality that pours forest-grown, prodigiously expensive, exquisitely-brewed-in-pure-quartz urn, organic-coffee into a styrofoam cup is in play here.

The mentality is called imbecilic moronic idiocy. It’s middle name is “ this defeats the entire purpose.” Its theme song is “Snatch defeat from the jaws of victory.”

No doubt when we all die slow, agonizing and premature deaths from exotic plastic-generated cancers, the autopsies will reveal stomach, sticker deposits with more leaves than pages in Manhattan phone book.

All bearing the assertion “organic.”

Sigh….Rant finished.