Hot Pockets

I love stand-up comedy.

Of all my (many) quirks, this is the one my family teases me about most often, probably because I think that because I listen to a lot of comedy I, too, must be hilarious. Apparently, it does not work that way.  But, I digress.

The reason I love stand-up comedy is that it exposes ridiculous human behaviors through the lens of the mundane. We are bizarre creatures and don’t even know it.

The other night, I went to see one of my favorite comedians – Jim Gaffigan. He is known for his bits on food and is best known for his piece on Hot Pockets.

If you’ve never had a Hot Pocket, congratulations. You are in an elite club  that comprises seven other Americans.

Hot Pockets, as described by Gaffigan, are a Pop-Tart crust filled with nasty meat. There is also a vegetarian version for “people who don’t want to eat meat, but still want diarrhea.”

I don’t think anyone is under any illusion that Hot Pockets are healthy. No one thinks they are doing their body any good by consuming a Hot Pocket. Yet, millions are sold every year.

“I’ve never eaten a Hot Pocket and afterwards thought ‘I’m glad I ate that,’” Gaffigan observes.

I listened (and laughed) as he talked about Hot Pockets, and thought about how I have made a lot of choices I know aren’t good for me, exposing me as the ridiculous person I am.

I've chosen to cling to jealousy and watched my gratitude erode.

I've chosen to be dishonest and watched trust deteriorate.

I've chosen selfishness and watched relationships break down.

I've never given into greed, arrogance, impatience, anger, disloyalty, or cowardice, and afterwards thought, "I'm glad I did that."

There's just nothing funny about self-destruction.

I'm going to be more careful about what I let into my heart. There is too much at stake.