I’ve never understood the breaststroke. This is not a comment on my sexual prowess. But I simply cannot comprehend why there is more than one swimming event in the Olympics.
I mean you’ve got the “freestyle”, in which competitors can hypothetically use any technique they prefer. But only a fool would choose anything other than the crawl, as the other strokes are woefully deficient in comparison. “I guess we’ll just have one swimming event then” you’d expect the Olympics guys to say, but instead they caved to the demands of the power Breaststroke lobby and gave it it’s own category, along with the Butterfly and the 100 Meter Swim While Reading a Patricia Cornwell Novel (which, okay, isn’t an actual event, but may as well be given that “inefficient forms of travel” are apparently legitimate sports).
Which brings me to Kar’s Salted Cashews. Explain to me again why we need cashews in a world that contains the miracle of peanuts? Sure you might have one of them allergies, the kind where you drop dead if any of your Facebook friends so much as thinks about Phad Thai, and then I can see why you might resort to cashews. But why would you put what is essentially a Fallback Plan in a vending machine? You don’t see them selling carob or Hydrox or methadone fercrissakes.
Also, A, this is not 90¢-worth of anything:
“The food here is terrible, and the portions are too small.” — Woody Allen
If you’re a nut and you have to be roasted in the oil of another nut just to get eaten, do us all a favor and go extinct. You ain’t foolin’ nobody.
Rating: 35¢/$1. I was ready to go as high as 60¢ based on the peanut oil and salt, but this picture of how cashews are grown caused me to spit the half-masticated remnants into my hand and knock two bits off the rating.