When time is short, I rely on photos to cover my… bases. This is such a post. Herewith, three photos that make me say, “Huh?”

The age of specialization has gone too far. What? You can’t clean your own bass before you throw it in the Bass-O-Matic???
That’s me. I’m an ice cream murderer. (Not to be confused with a cereal killer.) We’re not talking murder metaphorically, as in, “I just murdered a pint of Ben and Jerry’s.” No, I actually kill off products. Think: missing persons, but the person is an ice cream.
My MO is simply to become obsessed with a flavor or treat. As soon as I do, you can count on that item disappearing from the face of the earth. Think I’m kidding? Here’s the evidence against me, admissible in a court of frozen dairy law:
Latest in a long line of late, lamented treats: the Hoodwich. You know what I’m talking about: Hood ice cream sandwiched between two chocolate chip cookies, rolled in a coating of mini-chocolate chips all around the side. These were a tradition for me to consume at a local minor league baseball park. Alas, the Hood Corporation responded to my pleas about where to find these delectables with the unfeeling statement, “We apologize but we no longer produce the novelty Hoodwich.” Little do they know that I’m responsible for their lack of production. They can’t produce them. They’re all dead!
Who will be next? I hesitate to eat ice cream now. I don’t want anyone to know about the peanut butter cup flavor at Ben and Bill’s. That will go down for sure. Dare I continue to eat the Moose Tracks at Sully’s? I’m surprised at the resilience of Ben & Jerry’s Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough, which I’ve feasted on ever since its introduction. Could it be invulnerable? Maybe it’s from Krypton.
Beware! I may start eating your favorite ice cream next!