To the good people of the American food chain: the time has come to defend our beloved, probably edible spray cheese.

What better invention to symbolize our collective identity as people in touch with the true pleasures of life?

Half man’s creation, half God’s gift, who are we to turn our brazen backs to the yum-yum of Easy Cheese? Cheese Whiz: this is easily the greatest Americanized, pasteurized achievement of the post-modern age.

I dare you, in the bleakest of times, to imagine our shared home without the comfort and security of this ever-enduring snack. Pause further to pontificate upon the sacrifices made by your fellow countrymen in prioritizing this grand feat.

We have come to appreciate this domestic culinary staple for its glorious formula.

We have dedicated our greatest minds to this pasteurized cheese snack and consequently have forgone advancement in: economics, rainbow studies, geology, jazzercise, secret stuff in Russia, diffusion of individual identity in Japan, Martha Stewart’s true identity, equality and other equally or more legitimate and moral studies.

In turn, we have rewarded their genius with the esteemed salivary award presented in Oslo every year for cheese and peace studies.

If you are not thus convinced, allow us to present a list of logical and empirical sounding facts.

• Spray Cheese manufacturers are open to flavor suggestions from the public, thus spreading democracy.
• Every time a cheese snack is enjoyed, world peace is mentioned at a beauty pageant.
• Spray Cheese sounds like “spreadsheets” but is way more important.
• When you release cheese propellants, you release magic into the air.

In conclusion, as our dearly beloved, comma, bereaved friend I believe might-possibly-could-have-hypothetically mumbled,

“A society which allows an abomination like the degradation of precious Spray Cheese to burgeon from its dung heap and grow on its surface is like an American homo-sapien sapien who lets a fly crawl unheeded across his face or cheesy dribble uninhibited from his mouth-hole—either epileptic or dead.”

If only Plato, dough-boy, Julius Caesar, Justin Beiber, and Helen Keller were alive to taste this with their own eyes.

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Ed: Catherine Monkman