Yes, The Hassle.
Of cutting off bread crust.
Hence, the PB&J of the new millennia was born, void of any semblance of an actual sandwich, but cutting edge nonetheless: Hassle Free you see.

But I’m confused. Even though I’ve been told that I’m pretty gifted at “visualizing” certain scenarios in an effort to problem solve, and as much as I’m trying my hardest here on this issue of excess “crustation,” I’m missing the point. Let’s see, the perils of cutting off bread crust - could result in a horrible hand cramps perhaps, or worse… the dreaded crust cutting callous? I mean really, WHAT THE HELL, MOM?

See, this crust free thing is simply further evidence of one of our most basic problems in our advanced society of today: We simply can’t be bothered with the menial.

Perhaps we’ve lost our ability to even recognize what menial is anymore, thus we misappropriate its nuances in literally every facet of our lives. In truth, the menial then becomes contemptible, because it inevitably births “The Hassle” and of course “The Hassle” leads to the profound fear that all things bothersome will overtake us in our busy lives. And we can’t possibly be bothered with that. Enter then, the new fangled PB&J.

But perhaps I’m mistaken; perhaps my loyalty to the traditional PB&J has touched a cynical button.

Let’s take another look then shall we?

We’ll start with the PB&J. We grew up with it. Being Latin, I’ve twisted it a bit, you know, wrapped it up in a tortilla, but the PB&J is very much a part of the fiber of all things American. It’s a simple process: you get you some squishy white bread that leaves fingerprints where you grip it, some good concord grape jelly that plops instead of spreads, and finally, some peanut butter that tears vent holes into the sandwich as you forcibly push it between points A and B. Goes best with a big ‘ol glass of cold milk. Remember? What’s there to be cynical about Steve-O?

Nothin’. Except that just because we remember the PB&J, it doesn’t mean our kids sure will, and I see this as a bad omen. But in all fairness, let’s dig deeper shall we? Let’s get “between the crust” and take a look at a typical lunchtime scenario.

Ok, so what’s Johnny getting for lunch today?

Oh, what’s that Johnny?
A lunchable? Mmmm.

Oscar Meyer’s pre-molded, pre-injected, pre-packaged, nutrition-less sidestepping of the much feared hassle that mom knows so well. And my, my; such variety too. We got Taco Lunchables, Pizza Lunchables, Chateaubriand Lunchables, with dessert, and blue crap for the kid to drink. And what do our children absorb in exchange for this modern miracle of convenience? A bunch of salt, a bunch of sugar, a bunch of scientific terminology that I have no hope to pronounce, and a load of vitamin fortified preservatives. Eat up Johnny, grow big and tall, but don’t hassle mommy now, you know she’s got to get to work.

“Now hold on a minute there Steve-O,” you say, “my kid eats wholesome government approved cafeteria food.” Fair enough, let’s visit the cafeteria shall we? My wife worked in an upper class public school system for many years. She has often described to me in disgust what is actually considered appropriate food, and handed out to the children nowadays.

And the list includes:
Pizza Hut, McDonalds, Taco Bell, doughnuts, Pop Tarts, churros, Chicken McGreasies, deep fried lumps of nastiness... And if the kid isn’t into it, no big. There are plenty of vending machines all around offering Coca-Cola and Corn Nuts.

But I think you may be missing my point here.

Even though it is absolutely true that today’s youth is literally starving while they are reared on chemically enhanced processed crap, and while starving they are then sent into the classroom while in the throes of their daily sugar crash and burn process, and are then expected to focus on politically corrected data and future value social conditioning, which they can only take into account in small lumps due to their failed ability to focus.

And in that intentionally enhanced inability to connect the dots with their social conditioning (i.e. question or think independently) they also find themselves struggling to focus in general through their sugar enhanced tasks and consequently find themselves generically diagnosed with having A.D.D., and are then given the appropriate corporate created “medication,” and sent home to sit on their collective Nintendo asses while waiting for Mom and Dad to get home exhausted from work to open up dinner from another pre-packaged box. Finally, these same kids grow up to be perfectly trained pharmaceutical disciples, ever to be diagnosed, categorized, and medicated so that they can perform the very basics as adults: Sleep, eat, go to work, consume, condone, conform, procreate, and start all over again. All of this is rooted in our embrace of avoiding this terrible monster we’ve learned to call The Hassle. But I’m not soap boxing…just observing.

Shall we talk about some other uniquely American anomalies?