• Ding dong the cake is dead

    by Jesse Loren

    Hostess, the company that makes Twinkies, Ho-Ho’s, and Ding-Dongs, is going under, possibly today. It’s overdue Twinkies, don’t let the calorie counter hit you on the way out.

    Consider, Twinkies were originally made in the 1930s with banana cream filling; later, due to war-time banana shortages, the filling lost the bananas. This chemical wonderland of confectionary junk bonds parading as food is almost over. Who will miss it?

    Twinkie was my karaoke stage name — quivering sponge cake on the outside, creamy filling on the inside. If it deserved an apology, Twinkie did it. But, I have grown up since then; it’s time to say goodbye.

    Twinkie is a bootstrap story, making something, invention, and peddling it to the masses for money without consequence. It’s truly an American love story. It’s like red states, and flags waving, a lot of Honey Boo Boo, and “spoons don’t make me fat…” It’s a meme of empty calories, obesity, and pastel stretch pants during Saturday’s visiting hours. The cream stuffed, yellow cake death cube deserves to die. In memorial, I wrote this poem.

    Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Twinkie

    Among twenty chilly centuries
    The only lasting thing
    Was the sponge of the Twinkie

    I was of three minds
    Like a store
    in which there are three Twinkies.

    The creamy center oozed in the Dallas heat.
    A small part dripped on those pants of mime.

    A man and a woman are one.
    A man, a woman and a cupcake
    Are one.

    I do not know which to prefer
    The beauty of convection
    Or the beauty of fried confection.
    The cellophane wrapped Twinkie
    Or just after.

    Light filled the white faces
    Of the Mid State Fair.
    The coffers of the Twinkie
    Fried to and fro.
    The mood
    Lulled in the shadowy pools
    Of indecipherable delight.

    Think oh killers of men,
    Why do you imagine the golden defense?
    Do you not see wholeness
    Drips on the feet
    Of the men about you?

    I know legends of
    Urban proportions,
    That the Twinkie is involved
    In all that I know.

    When the Twinkie
    Has gone down low and out of sight,
    It marks the end of
    Corn syrup and sadness.
    At the sight of the last wrapper
    The sponge cake of stabilized fat
    Emulsed with chemical eternity
    Will cry out sharply.

    Chapter 11 bankruptcy protection
    Has found her Hostess.
    The death knell rings out
    Like birds unburdening
    Their shadows.

    The river is moving.
    Fried Twinkies with raspberry
    Must be swirling.

    It was evening every morning.
    It was daylight
    And it was dark
    The Twinkie sat
    On the timeless shelf.



    • Good job Jesse. I was not a fan at all of Twinkies. Think I had one in my life. Now Hostess Cupcakes were a favorite for me as a kid but we didn’t have them often.


      • Valerie

      • November 18, 2012 at 11:52 pm
      • Reply

      Beautiful! The cake will cry out sharply. My guilty cream lined lips will gasp, but my defiled, stretched and broken elastic on my undergarments will seize the day and scream with joy.



    • I had the privilege of hearing the orated version of this TWICE! It was spectacular!



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