American Baby Boomers face a new terror in their lives. It is the type of horror that only a mad scientist or worse-a mad advertising agency would create.  These evil men have at last found a way to turn mild manner middle aged men into snarling, clutching, mindless slobbering hunks of desire that only certain products will cure.
I speak of a recent shopping trip into what I thought was safe American holy ground, my local non-Wal Mart food store. The week had been brutal. I had been campaigning for a political seat on the city council for 8 weeks. I was tired. I thought a quiet walk through the food store would restore some form of balance in my upside down life.
Grabbing a shopping cart, I quickly made my way past the pile of canned peas and corn for sale at 3 for $2.00. Then it was a slow turn over to the bread. Yes, my favorite wheat honey bread was in stock.
But as I slowly turned from the bread wall, my mind started to hear the music from Jaws. Ta-dum. Ta-dum. Ta-dum. That music that screams at you,” Do not go into the water! It’s not safe.”
Looking back on the moment I think it was the fact that I was so tired that I let my guard down.
The cart stopped of its own free will. There in front of me was the store’s collection of everything that was bad for me. Glazed donuts, peach pastries, cinnamon buns, those swirly buns I don’t know the name of. And then, my eyes found the most evil of all the baddies... the Bavarian Dream Danish.
Oh God, why did it have to be the Bavarian Dream Danish? Is there no justice in the world?
An inner voice of sound thinking screamed at me. “No. This is not for you. Be brave. Be strong. Resist this fabrication of sex. You are stronger than a simple one night stand.”
And yet, there whispered a softer voice in my head. “Look how the cream just lays in soft layers. Go on, bend down. Study how the sensuous chocolate lines model the hidden beauty of your desire.”
Yes, that is what I needed to make me stronger, a quick one night experience with soft smooth dessert to wash away the weeks of being good.
Nothing really major mind you, just a tasty little flirtation with the bad side of life.
Quickly I rose to full height. Looking around me, I made sure no one saw my hand quickly reach out and grab the box of Danish as if I was the best football receiver who had just grabbed from thin air the winning touchdown football.
Twenty feet down the aisle, I covered my treasure with a package of broccoli so that my secret was safe from prying eyes.
Later, only in the safety of my home did the cold reality of my actions soon become apparent. I had just purchased not one but two desserts for my cream craze of the day.
There before me on my kitchen counter lay not only the Bavarian Dream Danish but its sister, the Sensational Strawberry Cheese Danish.
O my God, What had I done?
About that time, She Who Is Always The Voice Of Hard Cold Logic entered my zone of personal weakness. As always, she sized up the situation with one glance.
“So, failed grocery shopping 101 again, did we?”
Cruel voice followed by laughter only added to my embarrassment.
“Look.” I said. “The Danish has a new bright shiny box cover”
With that, I held up the Strawberry Cheese Danish box for her inspection.
“See how the red and pink stripes match and compliment the red strawberry cream slices of cheese cake?"
She took the box from me and upon careful inspection uttered these words:
“Sin-sa-tion-al Straw-berry Cheese Da-nish.”
Somehow in that one breath she made it seem that I had just been caught with a cheap woman of the night with cheese crumbs all over my body.
Rushing to prove her wrong, I spoke. “The box is a new marketing gesture for us professional connoisseurs of fine Danish. I only had to pay $4.00 for it.”
“Umm.” She mocked me in surprise. “Let me get this straight. New box with soft porn picture of delicious cream cheese flowing out of layers of Danish color coordinated to reds and pinks in a new box is worth a 150 %  increase in cost.”
Ahhh, maybe.
“Men.” She pronounced. ”You’re all Food Zombies at heart.”
And with that she disappeared to where all smart women go when they can no longer confront the male species who are determined to hide in a cone of stupidity.

Post Script:

The light from the refrigerator exposed a quiet kitchen at 2:48 am. No one up. Even the cats were fast asleep. The room was all mine. Somehow, from the slumber of a sound sleep, I found myself in this room looking down at the Strawberry Cheese Danish.
The Bavarian Dream Danish had unceremoniously been tossed into the freezer with a row of frozen vegetables on top. She Who Had Better Common Sense had said, “The last thing you need is to have two boxes of this stuff out in plain sight.”
The seconds piled on top of each other. Minutes became an eerie confrontation with wakening up to full conscious.
My stomach wanted it. My mind didn’t care; it was still half asleep. Yet, some part of my existence knew it was bad to desire such a creature as was before me.
Compromise.
Something whispered these words and they made sense. “Just kneel down and take the bright red and pink box in hand. Slowly pull back the cover as you let your eyes take in the full beauty of Sensational Strawberry Cheese Danish, caressed by natural artificial flavors smooth cheese and sweet strawberries.”
As I held the box close to my cheeks and slowly read these words, “Over 100 layers of delectable European style Danish dough topped with a tantalizing combination of sun-kissed strawberries and luscious blended cheeses, I knew that the J. Skinner Baking Co. of Omaha, NE only wanted me to be happy.
The shadows of the night tried to force me back to sleep, but I fought back. One bite and then another.
With delicate flakes of smooth cheese hanging off of my lips, I calculated just how much cake was to be mine this night.
I’ll show her. Let the morning come and I’ll prove there are no food zombies here.
Men cannot be programmed by simple words (sensational, smooth, luscious). We are made of stronger stuff.

UMMMM. Just one more mouthful before I sleep.