Saunders: America's Oreos are watermelon

Staff writerJune 30, 2013 

Sure, our government may be listening in on our phone conversations and monitoring what we watch on the Internet.

That’s right, fellas.

And yes, the U.S. Supreme Court is trying to turn the clock back to pre-Civil War days.

On top of everything else, Jesse Jackson has somehow insinuated himself into the whole Paula Deen affair.

Despite those troubling signs as we prepare to celebrate in three days our nation’s birthday, there is at least one thing that we can all be thankful for, one thing that confirms America’s status as the greatest country on earth:

Watermelon-flavored Oreo cookies.

You read correctly. We now live in a country in which two of the greatest creations ever have been combined.

My country ‘tis of thee, indeed.

Speaking of Oreos, there’s also one on the Supreme Court.

Once upon a time I was ashamed to enjoy watermelon publicly lest someone surreptitiously snap a picture of me with my head inside one and post it onto the Internet.

There are, no doubt, probably still some unliberated people who will deny themselves a sweet, fresh, juicy melon because of the historical stereotype associated with it.

Fret not, y’all. With the invention of watermelon bubble gum, milkshakes and now cookies, anyone can enjoy the essence of a melon without having to lug one home in a bowling bag. You can even sneak them into the movie theater, something only the most intrepid of us would do with a real, live watermelon.

As one would anything that sounds too good to be true, you have to approach the Watermelon Oreos cautiously — after you find a store that sells them, that is.

I hitched up the covered wagon and set forth on a 23.1 mile journey which could bring me heartache or joy or both: heartache if they turned out to be yucky, joy if they turned out to be delicious, and both if they turned out to be delicious and I developed a terminal case of Dunlap disease because I couldn’t put them down.

Let the record show that they were not yucky. At least, the first 17 weren’t. After that, I was gobbling on autopilot.

See, I’d planned, with journalistic detachment, to eat two or three of those bad boys, just enough to let you, dear readers, know if you should waste the calories and money.

That detachment didn’t last long. Neither did two-thirds of the bag of cookies. I swear, I think I’m sweatin’ fructose here and the cacophony escaping my stomach is mimicking something Mozart might’ve composed after an all-night bender.

The first shock came upon opening the bag and discovering that the familiar cookie inside wasn’t so familiar after all. The cookie was blond and the appearance of the creme — hey, that’s how they spell it on the bag — inside was jarring, too. It was green and pink and looked, as someone noted in an online review - like a piece of Hubba Bubba.

Big deal. If history has taught us anything, it’s that Clarence Thomas is going to vote against minority interests, Jesse Jackson is going to find a way to get into the spotlight and that if you imbue anything with the essence of watermelon, it’s going to taste delightful — Hubba Bubba bubblegum, candy, milkshake.

There was even someone on the radio the other day explaining that you can grill watermelon. If you’ve been to the State Fair this millennium, you already know they can deep fry-Oreos.

What better way to celebrate America’s birthday?

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