Chipping Away At the Fabric of Space-Time

There are certain laws of the universe that should be held inviolate (a fancy way of saying they shouldn't be screwed with), lest the bonds that hold the cosmos together begin to crumble beneath our feet.

• E = MC-squared, for example. Not sure what it means, but you do not want to devalue E.
• 1 + 1 = 2. That one I understand.
• Don't cross the beams.
• People whose nation you have just bombed to hell will not throw flowers at your feet and greet you as liberators.
• A Diet Coke cancels out the calorie count of whatever you eat with it.
• When traveling back in time, do not meet yourself.
• Pringles come neatly stacked in cardboard tubes.

Well, we're screwed. Because sitting before me is a bag of Pringles rice chips. Szechuan flavor. Tasty.

A bag.

I don't care that the chips are made of rice instead of potatoes. I love chips, and would eat them if they were made of tag-board, as long as they were crispy and had enough salt or other irresistible artificial flavor. Szechuan apparently qualifies as a sufficiently delicious flavor, because even as I compose this warning, I am munching on them and dropping their delicious crumbs all over my keyboard in utter disregard of the fact that these tasty snacks are unraveling the fabric of space and time.

Because Pringles, no matter how tasty, do not come in a bag. They come in a tube. That is the entire point of Pringles. Put 'em in a bag and they aren't Pringles anymore. Now they're just chips.

Succulent Szechuan barbecue heralds of the end-times.

Who knew the Apocalypse would taste so good?