Here’s my problem with bubble gum ice cream.

I like to think of myself as a think-for-myselfer. I distrust authority, and I hate all my bosses at work, I dislike both political parties for different reasons, and I’m just never satisfied with either team in the Super Bowl. But, secretly - seriously, don’t you tell anyone - I need to be told what to do. I really do. I have no idea what I’m doing. All the best parts of my life happened mostly by accident. I just did what the signs told me to do, and shit fell into place. Girlfriend, dog, house, college degree, job in my field. I didn’t plan any of this.

So, yeah. Getting back to ice cream. I understand ice cream. It put it in my mouth, remember not to chew it, or it will hurt my teeth, and let the motion of the ocean melt it down and into my gullet. Everything is good. My sad life improves.

Bubble gum ice cream, though, very obviously requires some more stressful planning. It’s ice cream, yes, but it also has bubble gum imbedded in its dairy goodness. For people who require context, bubble gum isn’t food. You chew it, squeeze its juices on out, then when it becomes a flavorless clump of rubber cement, you spit it into the garbage, further polluting Al Gore’s environment.

Should you screw up and swallow gum, it stays in your stomach for seven years, then a goddamn gremlin hatches from it, and explodes out of your unsuspecting, stupid chest, killing you slowly and painfully. It’s so very gruesome.

So, what is it that the makers of bubble gum ice cream expect me to do? Juggle the ice cream and bubble gum on my tongue, swallowing that frosty treat while keeping the gum in my mouth? I’m nowhere near that talented. Pick all of the bubble gum out of the ice cream, saving it for later? I remember being specifically trained by my parents not to pick through my food with my fingers, because it’s rude and truly messy when you’re trying to pick every lump out of your mashed potatoes.

What if I were to melt the whole elixir down until it’s all liquified, then rapidly freeze it back again? I’ve never actually melted gum before. Is that dangerous?

Listen, these are a lot of questions, and really, all of them should have been asked and answered long before Ben, Jerry, or that son of a bitch Baskin Robbins decided to start marketing this condemnable flavor of ice cream. Just a little not on the side of the container, telling me what it is I should be doing. They put a “Do not operate in the shower” note on hair curlers for idiots like me. Can’t we extend the same courtesy to ice cream?

Just a little idea for everyone to chew on.