Soyjoy... Joy? Good Times?....NO JOY!

Ok... so its been awhile. You know... these days.... You think I really give a shit?

Right!

Thats why my faithful ones still mill about... some of the more hard-core down there in the basements and sub-basements and deeper areas where various characters hang out and inter-mingle and talk about the stuff beyond our constant grinding evolutionary process... BUT enough of that...



We're here today because of SOYJOY!!!! Doesn't it wanna make you have a mutha fuckin' party just over the name?!!! Does it not???? SOY JOY!!!! The JOY of SOY!!! I have SOY and I'm overJOYed cause I'm gonna visit my family and bring all the little tots one SOY JOY each!!! WOOT! for Soy!!! YAHOOO for SOY JOY!!! I'm going to take a SOY JOY and cram it up my ass while I stroke my fucking dick to orgasm!!!! I'm'a have some SERIOUS FUCKING JOY with my SOY, BABY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

This all started when I heard a commercial one night for SOY JOY thinking it was Morgan Freeman narrating. This in turn made me think (as THEY wanted me to) that I had to go eat a SOY JOY at the next opportune time. (It also made me wonder when he left the back yard without asking me.) Even before I got my hands on one, Ms. Dark told me that I'd be disappointed. Convinced that my dear friend hanging out in my back yard would never steer me wrong, I thought her to be in err.

Then my world fell.

One day not to far in our normally perceived past, I purchased a singular SOY JOY and transported it back to my home place in preparation of the perfect period to partake of this pressed piece of joyful perfection. (HEE)

When the time came, I approached the wafe with a spot of cold milk.

I partook.

I chewed.

SOYJOY... mmm ... mm?

Well... Ok... It was nicely tasting pressed SOY substance... but...was missing... the JOY.

There was a definitive absence of any semblance of tenance toward any type of JOY.

SOYJOY was nothing more than an undersized piece of mediocre-tasting pressed solidness that was slightly over baked.

Only this and nothing more.

Luckily at that same time I realized that my dearest Morgan had nothing in it. He sat in my bushes, silent and in tears. I tried to hide the face, but he knew I already thought he was the orator of the gawdawful commercial joyously rejoicing such a fine bean.

A bean that should sever its pumping heart from that which they call .... SOY JOY.

Leave it be. There on the shelf under the coat of dust that is already forming upon the package.

Let it die and rot in perfect peace. Let it have peace. Let it end in peace.
In regular corporate English...
Soyjoy is burned/overcooked. The flavor is not pleasing. The portion is pathetic. The price is ridiculously inflated. It is a very poor choice for a nutritional bar of any type.

Frankly, it makes me think I'm eating a nicely squared off piece of shit, prepared by someone with unique hemorrhoids, eating a diet of nuts, soy and fruit.

Go away now.