The Gods Must Be Crazy

Dear Packaging God or Gods,

First off, please don’t smite me for writing you. I’ve been smitten before and it didn’t work out well and I really don’t want to go through that again.  But I had to write.

I addressed this to “God or Gods” because I don’t know your hierarchy. Maybe there’s only one of you and you handle everything in this category. Or maybe you are a multitude with each one assigned specific packaging responsibilities, like design or layout. I couldn’t know so please don’t hold that against me. I just thought that addressing this to both seemed wiser based on established mythology.

I’m writing with all due respect because you are a god or gods and therefore possess powers which mere mortals cannot even begin to comprehend. In light of that I hope you’ll have a little sympathy for those of us condemned to live a few miserable years on earth before facing an endless eternity of agony with no wi-fi, facebook, or premium channels.

With all your godly powers, you probably don’t understand human limitations. Not that I’m implying this is a deficiency, I would never say that to anyone capable of throwing lightning bolts – it’s just that as lesser beings we lack your superior abilities such as strength.

Which is why I’m writing to you.

It’s about your packaging.

Two recent purchases come to mind, one involving a liquid. The liquid was in a bottle inside a sealed box. The bottle was sealed inside a plastic covering with no visible means of removal. At least none apparent to my mortal eyes.

At first I thought you meant to challenge me, some kind of a test to make sure I was worthy. So I tried, I really did. I searched my weapon stockpile. Fingernails. Scissors. A nail clipper. A nail file. All in vain. Then I tried knives. Even then, I only achieved success after offering you a blood sacrifice.

But that wasn’t enough, because after the plastic came off, I removed the push and turn safety cap (not a simple task with a tourniquet on one hand) only to find the bottle opening tightly sealed with a “lift and pull” instruction. I lifted. I pulled. And finally got out the knife again because clearly, one blood sacrifice wasn’t enough.

I’m relieved to tell you that I wasn’t trying to open a bottle of anti-venom.

But all of this pales in comparison to the challenge presented by the plastic bubble.

As everyone admits, dear deity, this is your ultimate packaging creation. Harder than diamonds, more powerful than a locomotive or a speeding bullet (yes, it’s true, I checked), this material remains impervious to even the most persistent attempts to pierce it. I know.  I tested it. Thoroughly. Before returning my unopened purchase to the store, my human frailty having doomed me to failure.

Now, some humans might call this a tad excessive, maybe overkill. Might say that safety probably doesn’t require packaging that would survive a trip to the space station and back.

Not me. I understand that you might be a sensitive deity who is just being paternal toward his or her human worshippers, seeking to protect them from tampering and whose feelings could be easily hurt, leading to rampages (I would never call them “tantrums”) involving storms and Kraken running amok.

So I would never say any of that.

Instead, dear packaging god or gods, I plead with you to show mercy upon those of us who have only so many fingers left to give. Because even child-proof caps require opposable thumbs.

Thanking you in advance for your ever gracious consideration,

Your humble subject.

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Posted on January 25, 2012, in Commentary, Humor, Other. Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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