Dear Mr. Slim

Dear Mr. Slim, Dude, I recently got myself a box of your Vlasic Dill Pickle Slim Jim Smoked Snack Sticks, and I gotta tell you man, I’m starting to lose the thread here. For the last couple years, all of you snack purveyors have seen fit to bombard us

Dear Mr. Vlasic

Dear Mr. Vlasic, Thanks for coming to talk to me today, I really appreciate you taking the time out of your busy schedule. No, no, I don’t actually need anything from you. This is what they call a come-to-Jesus, Mr. Vlasic. I’m worried about you. The stress has

Dear Mr. Mate

Dear Mr. Mate, It is the year 2025, and we are constantly being bombarded by man-made horrors that should be beyond our comprehension. I can barely open the internet in the morning without fear of what new dipshit move our President has pulled overnight, you leave your house and BAM

Dear Mr. Subway

Dear Mr. Subway, Even though it functions more as proof that God is dead, Hell is empty, and that the devils are all here, than it does as a tasty dessert, I have found myself compelled to try the war crime you euphemistically call your Footlong Oreo Cookie. I’m

Dear Mr. DiGiorno

Have you ever read one of those terrible literary novels that are, like, set at a small midwestern college, maybe somewhere in Ohio, and the plot is all about a professor whose marriage is falling apart, and then he has a tragically doomed affair with a, like, sophomore or something,

Dear Mr. Meyer

As a longtime patron of yours, recent visits to your store on North Lombard in Portland have left me wondering a very specific question: why do you fucking hate your customers? Every single time I go to your store, my experience as a customer is worse, and it's

Dear Mr. ProtoArc

May was a really terrible month for computer peripherals for me. Early in the month, one of my terrible pissgoblins who masquerade as cats decided that my beloved Model M keyboard might work really well as a litterbox and, little scientist that he is, decided that right then was time

Dear Mr. Doritos

I have recently acquired a packet of your Baja Fiery Mango Doritos, and I am hard pressed to say who I’m most disappointed with: you, for making them, Mr. Dew, for allowing you to corrupt their already less-than-honorable name with this product, myself, for buying them, or God, for

Dear Mr. Twix

In all fairness, you’re not the only confectionery magnate who is currently experiencing some absolutely slipshod QC processes, but I have recently acquired a package of your “Cookie Dough” Twix and honestly – Look, I’m mad at the standards of candy manufacturers across the board. It’s not just

Dear Mr. Yuns

I have long thought that there exists no better fried cornmeal snack concoction with which to contemplate our shared reality than your fine product, Funyuns. Consider the humble Funyun: a weirdly thick and tall toroid of extruded and fried corn batter, which is then rolled in MSG and salt and

Dear Mr. Links

Until today, in the grand scheme of brand alliances, every one that I’ve seen has fallen into one of two categories: pairings that make sense, and pairings that are so outlandish that they at least don’t cause cognitive dissonance. Cadbury Dairy Milk and Oreos? You know what, fine,

Dear Mr. Farms

I somewhat recently – I’ll get to it, promise – acquired several packages of your Pumpkin Spice Milano cookies, and I have to say I’m impressed. Not so much – actually, not at all – with the cookies themselves, but rather with the journey of self-discovery that these purported cookies sent me

Dear Mr. Cola [Y3000 Edition]

Dear Mr. Cola, It has been two months since my last letter. This letter, somehow, marks the sixth (!) time I’ve written to you about one of your “fine” products. It’s a shame, really - despite all my missives asking after your well-being and mental health, given the acid-addled

Dear Mr. Flip

I don’t know if you remember the nineties, but it was a time chock full of some really irritating bullshit. No, I don’t mean to talk about nonsense like “only 90s kids will remember pogs or Nirvana or idk jorts.” I’m talking about the birth of neoliberalism

Dear Mr. Seven

In this debased age we find ourselves in, it is perhaps expected that you, staid and boring as you are, would eventually glom onto the newest trend in carbonated hummingbird food and make some outlandish, unnecessary flavor of your soda. In fact, once your colleague Mr. Pepper decided to do

Dear Mr. Omni

Finally! Right now, mankind faces some of the greatest existential threats it has ever faced. Global warming. AI-generated content making the internet worthless. Mass extinctions. Mr. Bell’s glorious telephones being made absolutely useless because of all the scam calls. So many others! Amongst all these crises, your company has

Dear Mr. CupNoodles

I know that you are now a famous, widely-respected noodle kingpin, but I am right now imagining you, sir, back in your salad days, working fourteen hour days in the un-air-conditioned kitchen in the back of your family’s noodle shack in your hometown of Gardena, seasoning the broth with

Dear Mr. Pepper, DDS,

In the last year or so, our world has seen a massive proliferation of joke sodas. It used to be that only the feral madmen over at the concern of your colleague, Mr. Dew, would, on the regular, load flavor syrups into their SuperSoakerShotgun, close their eyes, spin the barrel,

Dear Mr. Cola [+XP Edition]

I find myself in the unfortunate position of writing you once again, sir, because I recently found myself in the excellent situation of taking a road trip with my most lovely ladyfriend, and on that road trip unfortunately came across yet another of your new line of conceptually flavored sodas,

Dear Mr. Haul

I recently, once again, had the great personal misfortune to require the services of your local concern. This should come of no surprise to you – it is something of an American tradition to be in circumstances and, when one is in those circumstances, to turn to your network of shops

Dear Mr. Pepsi

I’ll admit it right here and now: I gave you the benefit of the doubt. I won’t deny that when when I learned of the existence of your PEPSI x PEEPS marshmallow-cola flavored mineral water, I was disgusted. The gorge, sir, did indeed rise in my throat. But

Dear Mr. Cola [Move Edition]

Are you… okay over there, buddy? This is my third letter to you in the last nine months, because you keep releasing these “new” “limited edition” “flavors” and the only real way I can accurately describe this release parade of yours is: increasingly unhinged. First, we had Starlight flavored Coke.

Dear Mr. Food

I have recently purchased and tried a bag of your Limited Holiday Edition Merry Berry Popcorn Mix, with Cap’n Crunch “Crunch Berries,” and I suppose that congratulations are in order – y’all have somehow packaged, marketed, and sold (for Good American Dollars) a product that a 16-year-old stoner would

Dear Mr. Hormel

You absolute coward. I was willing to give you the benefit of the doubt. I said to myself, perhaps he is a visionary. Perhaps he knows something we all don’t. Perhaps all those thoughts are wrong, and he’s simply a comedian, and he’s willing to commit to