Here at Kraft we dislike the letter C. Normally, the word “craft” is spelled with C, but we spell it with a K instead. We hate C’s so much we dropped it from the word “snak.” There is no logic to our spelling. We just think certain letters are superfluous, that’s all. Take the word “squeeze.” It does not need that final E. Some of you might argue that the word “snak” could be mistaken for “snake,” but that would be plain wrong. We are advertising something that is long and wiggly. OK, that sounds a lot like a snake. We do not recommend you squeeze snakes. That’s dangerous. We’d prefer you squeeze some of our delicious Squeez-A-Snak onto a cracker. Or an egg. Or anything you have lying around. You can squeeze it straight into your mouth if you like, though that might be uncouth. No matter; we don’t judge. What you do in the privacy of your own home is your business. Squeeze all the snakes you like. Go crazy. After all, our motto is “A good time is only as good as its food.” That’s not really true, but it sounds good. Actually, it sounds awful. It makes no sense whatsoever. We had a contest in the office to see who could come up with a motto that used as many O’s as you could squeeze in. This is what won. That should tell you something about the caliber of people we have in the office. Don’t apply for a job here. No-one can spell, there are absurd rules about not using the letter C and they feed you this stuff all day long. I saw a guy squeeze some out onto his pencil and lick it off. I think he was preparing to stab himself with it just to get out of a meeting. He might have been the guy who came up with that motto. Clearly he needs help. Psychological help. Only someone about to fall into the abyss of despair could think that a good time is only as good as its food. What if the food sucks? You could be on a hot date with a pretty woman and eat shitty food, but it would still be a hot date. No-one cares about the food. You could go home and squeeze snakes. Also, why is it called “process cheese spread”? The cheese has been processed. Past tense. There is no such thing as process cheese, at least in grammar. Besides, it’s not real cheese, if you want to know the truth. It’s nothing like cheese. But they have to call it something. It’s more accurate to call it cheez, which you’d think they’d be all over, but no. They let that one slip through. Maybe the pencil guy was off that day. Maybe he was on a mental health break. This whole thing is depressing. No-one needs a chart to figure out what to do with this stuff. It’s in a tube; you cut a hole in one end and squeeze. It’s not difficult to figure out. It’s the thing you buy at the 7-11 when you’re drunk at 4am on your way home to balance the beer. Or maybe after your date, when you’re still starving because the food was so bad. Come to think of it, maybe pencil guy was on to something. He was just telling it like it is. If the ad is anything to go by, you’ll have a really bad time eating this food. You’ll stand there holding a tube of it in your hand in your empty kitchen with your box of crackers and no wife, no kids, no money for a pizza, no hope of ever scoring a hot date, and you’ll think to yourself: I’m a complete failure, I might as well off myself. You’ll think: my career consists of designing charts to show people what they can do with a tube of Squeez-A-Snak because we assume they are so profoundly stupid they can’t figure it out for themselves. You will use goo squeezed out onto a cracker four times on the same page and hope no-one notices that this isn’t four separate ideas just because you use a different shape cracker each time. Your own mother will tear out this ad from the magazine and show all her friends what her son does for a living. They will ask her why he can’t spell, given his expensive college education, and she will say maybe no-one will notice. Someone will point out the thing about the letter C. Next time she calls you she will relay this information and ask if you’ve been on any dates because she’d like grandchildren to spoil before she dies. You consider stabbing yourself in the neck with a pencil. But I digress. What was it you were saying?
Family Circle, 1973
