Tuesday, December 4, 2012

Documenting the Last Examples of Hostess Products in the Wild





So my new thing is to document sightings of the last remaining Hostess products that I find lying about at various convenient stores during my travels. Already they are like artifacts from another age.

You see, I keep spotting random examples of the once mighty Hostess line of products (mostly Donettes, I guess no one likes Donettes) holding out like little cakey stalwarts at certain sorts of stores. I think it might be interesting to note the last date that a Hostess product was seen in the wild, so I am going to begin documenting my finds.

Today I spied some lonely Mini Muffins on a still standing Hostess/Drakes display (even these are becoming a rarity) at the Jiffy Stop in Monroe, NY. Although Mini Muffins are definitely a score to be noted, I feel like spotting some Twinkies in the wild would be the veritable Loch Ness monster of this endeavor. I am going to make a point of trying to track some down. Not to purchase of course, only to observe.

I am treating this all like bird watching or catch and release fishing. Should I find Twinkies in a dusty corner of some rarely trafficked quick-mart I intend to pick them up to feel their weight in my hand. I will then gently place them back on the display so others can enjoy them in their natural habitat.



As you know, I am mildly obsessed with industrial and fast foods in all of their sad glory. I can't help finding the disappearance of the Hostess brand anything but haunting. Although I haven't partaken of the cakes and pies much in the last decade or so I am acutely aware of having passed a display of them probably near once a day for my whole life. Now these stands are just another bit of detritus of the modern age. It gives me shivers. I guess I am a strange man that way.


In any event, blame the stilted nature of the prose and poor quality pictures of this post on the fact that I am punching it out on iPad as I am away from my lair for a while.

1 comment:

  1. The vending machine at my work, inexplicably, started stocking Zingers right before the news of Hostess going belly-up hit the papers. I am suspicious of the things, but devour them with gusto nonetheless because they are the harbingers of fond childhood memories.

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