Dear Mr. Bantam

Historical note: “Sad Bachelor’s Dear Mr. Corporation COVID Thanksgiving Extravaganza 2020!”, continued!

Dear Mr. Bantam,

What, and I mean this with an absolute lack of respect, the eff-word-in-gerund-form eff-word is wrong with you?

Let’s start with everything that’s wrong with this box. I almost can’t mock it. Let’s just list some phrases: “New York City Original.” “Pretzel Bagel.” “Bagel Stuffed.” “Cheddar Dijon Cream Cheese! [exclamation point sic]” “As Seen On Shark Tank.” And of course, just like a goddamn recipe from the internet, we need a personal story. “After a dream about mini stuffed bagels.” “Opened a bakery in the West Village.” You gentrifying scum. Not only have you invaded the absolutely classic West Village with the rest of the yuppies, you have gentrified the entire concept of bagels. I bet you’re friends with that lady who called the cops on the black guy who tried to pet her dog.

Now, for the ziploc baggie of frozen “bagels.” Look at this travesty. Look at this absolute galaxy-brained moron interpretation of a bagel. You say “bagel,” I say “mitosis diagram from a damn high school biology book.”

Look at the lack of egg wash. Look at the lack of hole. Maybe you could have called this a bialy but even then, no. This has the texture of a sponge that has sat in the sink for too long. Oh and I almost forgot - it’s supposed to be a pretzel! [exclamation point sic] Absolutely not. Someone might call this a pretzel…. And monkeys might fly out of my butt.

But wait, you say, we used pretzel salt. Yeah you did. In the inside. You pathetic excuse for a baker.

“As Seen On Shark Tank.” I wish they’d dropped you in.

Please, go fuck yourself,

Alex Parise

[Originally published 11/26/2020]