It’s baaaaaaack.
The most addictive, unnatural thing on God’s green #3 planet, Turkey Hill’s Party Cake has returned to wreck my digestive tract. I know, I wrote about it last year, but this stuff makes me act like Tom Cruise on Oprah on crack. I can’t resist. Chock full of alien pigments and sugarsugarsugar and several important members of the Wayans family, it’s guaranteed to make you bounce off walls and shit unfortunate colors.
One serving has 6% of the recommended daily allowance of Vitamin A!
How do you define love in 1,000 words or less?
Milk, cream, sugar, buttercream (sugar, partially hydrogenated soy and cottonseed oils, high fructose corn syrup, water, marlon, corn syrup, mono & diglycerides, polysorbate 60, damon, salt, natural and artificial flavors, cellulose gum, soy lecithin, shawn, phosphoric acid, blue 1), cake pieces (enriched flour (bleached flour, niacin, reduced iron, thiamin mononitrate, riboflavin, folate), sugar, partially hydrogenated soybean and cottonseed oils, eggs, water, keenan ivory, angel cream (calcium sulfate, monocalcium phosphate, adipic acid, corn starch), salt, michael, natural & artificial flavors, red 3, yellow 5, blue 1, chicago 87, modified corn starch, vegetable gum, butter flavor, sodium bicarbonate), corn syrup, kim, whey, nonfat milk, mono & diglycerides, artificial & natural flavors, guar gum, carrageenan.
This year, the fine, fine dealers up at the T-Hill have added this bit of snazizzle to the packaging:

That’s the happiest-looking Surgeon General’s warning I’ve ever seen.
Speaking of seeing happy things... Joe's NYC (which should be your first stop, every morning) has a particularly stunning bit of wow today.
Tom Cruise doesn't need crack; he already has Scientology.