Now, here’s what I think, and you can disagree with me if you want:
You’ve got to feel just a little bit sorry for Randy Quaid.
The most tempting question is “Why, Randy Quaid? Why?” but the obvious answer is “Somebody hired the wrong accountant.” Or ate his royalties. And when you look at it that way, the other people on that island shouldn’t be smiling, because eventually it’s going to come down to cannibalism…and ol’ Rand looks like he’d be willing to make that jump sooner rather than later, know what I mean?
In other news, I could not resist the siren song of Pepsi Holiday Spice. The experiment began on an ominous note–it wouldn’t ring up at BevMo, and when the manager walked over to key it in manually, she did a double take: “What is this?” She picked up the store intercom and announced, “I need a price check on…Pepsi Holiday Spice?”
Once the beverage was safe in my fridge, I selected some chickpea-and-lentil Indian cuisine to eat with my Pepsi Holiday Spice (spicy goes with spicy, right?) and prepared to begin a chain of events that I was certain would end with me kneeling over the toilet.
Yes, it’s real
The first thing I noticed about Pepsi Holiday Spice is that it’s red. And not a bright, happy red. Darker. More ominous. Like blood mixed with the tears of ten thousand dead Native Americans. See for yourself:
I regarded the glass with skepticism, trepidation, and dread:
Maybe this isn’t a good idea
After telling my wife I loved her, I tilted it back and took a big gulp:
And here’s the disappointing part–it really isn’t bad at all. It’s like a less sweet version of Pepsi, which is good news for a normally non-soda drinking person such as myself.
You aren’t so scary after all
I finished the whole bottle.