Folks, there is an epidemic going around in the world of food. Not botulism or salmonella. (Well, not JUST botulism or salmonella.) I’m talking about short-shrifting.
First, it was the Subway footlongs that are actually eleven inches.*I think anyone who’s been eating Subway sandwiches for a long duration** has noticed that those puppies have been getting shorter. Or it’s the fact that my hands used to be a lot smaller. Anyway, 12 inches of tuna salad definitely used to seem like more. Caught in the act, Subway. You’ve been scienced.
Now it’s underweight packages of Oscar Mayer products. Ham, alas, and not hot dogs. Can you even have an underweight hot dog? They’re already like 99% mystery filler. DELICIOUS mystery filler. My bologna has a first name, it’s D-E-L-I-C-I-O-U-S.
It’s the same everywhere. Packages get smaller and prices go up. Things that used to come in half gallons come in quarts and nobody says anything because Americans suck at math. It’s fine. I’ll gladly add “Food came in bigger sizes” to my “When I was your age” list. (I may be only 29, but it is one hell of a list.) If this is the way things go, though, how big were the Subway sandwiches in Victorian times?
Speaking of the British, I was so proud of myself for remaining spoiler-free regarding the current season of Downton Abbey. Then the most recent episode aired, killing off a major character in the process, and I was emotionally unprepared to process the death. Now that I’ve pondered it a bit, I’m pretty sure the moral of the story is “Stay away from the Irish.”
* When this story broke, TheBoy’s first thoughts went to England—“Do they convert the sandwiches to metric?” We’re just that kind of couple.
** e.g. Me.