Like every article I write, I’m going on the assumption that sometime in the mid-22nd century, ColuMn will finally achieve astronomical success as nearly everyone on the planet will be able to recite cmsof’s Judas Priest review by heart. The O’Connor Chronicles will be nine installments into what will end up being a 35-film franchise. And Sparks, who will be ColuMn’s only remaining living writer (cmsof and I will exist as blobs of plasma and travel the galaxy in search of Heavy Barrel), will be the world’s most-loved celebrity.
With a planet obsessing over every lêttΣr and punctuat!on m@rk, I wonder just how much of ColuMn our decendents will truly understand. Will they still have Chocodiles and will poop jokes still be funny? My God. What am I saying? Of course poop jokes will still be funny. What kind of post-apocalyptic nightmare do I think the future will devolve into? Sometimes I can be a real idiot.
In the interest of further cataloging this time period for countless generations of ColuMnists™, today I am traveling back to a more innocent age. An age when drinking almost lethal amounts of cheap alcohol and smoking four packs of smokes at a time was still considered a healthy lifestyle.
That’s right, pals. We’re going all the way back to the early 1990’s. All the way back to the day that I met Kool-Aid Man.
I have always loved the cold, refreshing, fruit-like flavor of Kool-Aid, and that love has led me to a special relationship with corporate mascot, Kool-Aid Man. My first exposure to this ultra-cool, X-treme dude was as a lad, enjoying a glass of Kool-Aid from a Kool-Aid Man cup, poured from a Kool-Aid Man pitcher, much like this photo, only way less red and twice as velvety.
I later thrilled to his adventures in his own exquisite comic book (which apparently lasted 6 issues! – how?). I knew, even at an early age, that our destinies were intertwined. So it wasn’t a complete shock when we finally met face-to-face.
Except . . . I have no recollection of said meeting. Nobody recalls my ever meeting Kool-Aid Man. The Instigator, who was present at the time, has no memory of the event. And yet, I obviously DID meet Kool-Aid Man. I have the sticker. Clearly, I met Kool-Aid Man. And even more clearly, such a meeting would not be easily forgotten.
I’m left with the brutal certainty that, through the magical elixir, Purplesaurus Rex, Kool-Aid has systematically, and with a surgeon’s precision, erased the memory of that historic meeting from my mind. Why, I cannot tell you. But it’s quite simply the only possible explanation.
Kool-Aid Man, if you’re reading this (and we both know that you are), read it carefully. I will discover your shameful secret and I WILL have my memories of our time together restored. And if you cannot accept that grim certainty, then I suggest that you, sir, go straight to Hell.