It’s Saturday night, I’m on the way home with approximately half of my kids, it’s late, I have no idea what to feed them once I get home, so I make a semi-irresponsible decision to buy burgers at the local fast food joint rather than whipping up something more nutritious and cost effective in my own kitchen.
This is when I hit pay dirt, and realize it’s been far too long since last I blogged. About anything.
I’m sitting with the kids, inhaling my Whopper Junior (trademark, copyright, patent pending), when I begin to read the brown paper bag that the food came in. Don’t ask. I’ve been a compulsive reader since I was first a reader, and I sort of read anything that passes before me, mostly out of instinct (and compulsion).
To assure you that I’m not making this up, I’ve included a photo of the side of said bag.
MOST VALUABLE BAG
Huh? OK. I’m game. Let’s read on.
In football, the “twelfth man” is a crowd that helps a team to victory through cheer.
What the?! Yeah, I know what the “twelfth man” is, but “helps a team to victory through cheer”?! Who writes like this? Nobody that follows football. Now the “Valuable Bag” has my full attention.
This bag, emblazoned with a #12 on its bottom, is like the twelfth man of your lunch.
The twelfth man of my lunch?! Helping my lunch to victory through cheer, no doubt. Of course, this is dinner, but let’s not get too picky.
Because while you can’t actually eat it, the meal you are about to enjoy wouldn’t be possible without this MVB.
Um. OK. Several problems here. First of all, the dangling “it” leaves me wondering whether it’s the meal or the bag that I can’t actually eat. A few seconds of thought, plus one re-parsing of the sentence, leaves me with the inevitable conclusion that it’s the bag that I can’t actually eat.
But now, a logical fallacy has stopped me mid-Whopper (trademark, copyright, patent pending). This meal wouldn’t be possible without the bag?! What about the traditional “For here? Or to go?” question, which, if answered, “For here” would cause the food to be served on a plastic tray, rather than in a bag (valuable or not), thus providing an existence proof against the claim that the meal I am about to enjoy wouldn’t be possible without this MVB? Huh?! What about that, SmartBag?!
Still one thing sticking in my craw. The Most Valuable Bag claims that emblazoned on its own bottom is “#12”. This I gotta see…
Multiple problems. 1) Is this what you would really call “emblazoned”? 2) “12#”? Don’t you mean “#12”? I think “12#” would, strictly speaking, be read “twelve pounds,” which makes no sense whatsoever. 3) What the heck does “1-5” have to do with anything? Is this the snap count? An expression that evaluates to -4? The number of eligible receivers? 4) If “12#” is “emblazoned,” what do you call “1-5” which is similarly “emblazoned” on the bottom of the MVB, but in a font size twice as large?
What can all of this possibly mean?! I’m struggling with explanations.
I can only come up with one possible takeaway from this experience…
Whenever possible, don’t outsource your advertising campaign to non-native English speakers who don’t follow football, and have never actually ordered fast food from your establishment.
Second possible takeaway… During this Fall football season, the Most Valuable Blog recommends that you help your team to victory through cheer. Twelve pounds. Negative Four.
Yeah, the ’12#’ does translate to 12 lb. I used to work for Chick-fil-a, and we would always refer to bag sizes as 4 lb (small bags, not often used), 8 lb (medium, used most frequently), and 12 lb (large bags, for large orders). I can’t remember if the number was supposed to represent the weight of the bundle of bags that we received or the approximate holding capability of the bag. I agree, though, that the whole “MVB” argument, with the 12# as support, is really quite a stretch!
That’s just priceless.
The closing comment was great!