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So My Kids Declared That I Must Try Popcorn Frozen With Liquid Nitrogen

photo-1 copy 3So my kids declared that I must try popcorn frozen with liquid nitrogen. And why not? Nitrogen makes up 78.09% of the earth’s atmosphere. It’s a key ingredient in ammonia, explosives, and cyanide. What could it possibly hurt to spray it all over popcorn? It freezes the popcorn to negative 350 degrees and fills it with nitrogen gas that comes shooting out your mouth and nose as you chew it. And I don’t know about you, but I’m an American so, due to our cultural hunger that constantly craves new things to quickly become dissatisfied with, I’m sick and tired of eating regular old buttery popcorn at the movies. No. I need popcorn that shoots clouds of nitrogen gas out of every hole in my face or I’ll get bored, risking relapse into dormant addictions. Plus I want to be a dragon. If you don’t want to be a dragon, then I’m afraid we don’t relate.

But before freezing the popcorn to negative 350 degrees (I’ll probably type “negative 350 degrees” a lot because, when I’m amazed, I get repetitive because I think the repetition will somehow infect you with the same amazement and this popcorn – they freeze it with liquid nitrogen until it’s negative 350 degrees) – anyway, before freezing the popcorn to negative 350 degrees, you have to pick the kind of popcorn you want and there’s, like, 20 different kinds because there’s a part of all of us that believes we can satisfy our spiritual hunger with things like iPads, pornography, and 20 different kinds of negative 350 degree popcorn. My kids picked white cheddar, which was a little boring considering the multitude of flavors, but they’re still young and are yet to starve for the new and more the way we starve for the new and more. I got the white chocolate raspberry with sparkles – yes, the popcorn is glazed with glitter and sparkles – because I’m spiritually bankrupt and I’m not getting off unless my popcorn dazzles like a diamond.

So then the popcorn is picked and the popcorn lady puts on these huge rubber gloves because handling liquid nitrogen is no doubt a dangerous enterprise and then she sprays OUR POPCORN with it until our popcorn is negative 350 degrees and steaming, which doesn’t sound right because hot things steam, so our popcorn is, I don’t know, freeze gassing.

I want you to right here pause with me a second and really consider what’s going on. I’m a 41-year-old man. I live on a quirky little planet in the milky way that somehow underwent the amazingly funky causes and conditions that permitted a marvelously strange film of bio-forms to emerge and freak out on its surface. I mean there’s monkeys and dolphins and worms and all kinds of madness. For what? Who knows? Are we philosophers? So the planet spins around a star and somehow maintains these causes and conditions that permit and maintain life and it’s all so harmonious and balanced and perfect that it’s really kinda beautiful. I mean you could quite possibly get a lump in your throat and a little mist in your eyes if you think about too hard, no? What a completely improbable situation. And yet, against all odds, something instead of nothing, here we are. And on top of all that, I’M ABOUT TO EAT NEGATIVE 350 DEGREE WHITE CHOCOLATE RASPBERRY POPCORN COVERED IN SPARKLING GLITTER.

If you think this post has a point, I’m afraid your craving for closure will be thwarted. I’m really sorry about that. So we ate our popcorn. We ate our negative 350 degree popcorn, sitting in the 105 degree Las Vegas sun, stuffing it into our 98.6 degree bodies, which inexplicably maintain the necessary processes to sustain their own perpetuity. My daughter dips her face in the freezing mist. My son exhales it like a meth hit. I realize that I flash back and forth between the past and present tense. I do that on purpose. That’s what my life does. The popcorn is cold and good and soon it is gone. And soon you’ll be done reading this little story about negative 350 degree popcorn. What will you do next? To what answer will you next turn to quiet your starving questions?


Read more from me at Black Hockey Jesus.

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