Sprinkles sprinkled with evil by The Sprinkled Bandit

Here here, let me just sprinkle a little bit of love on your pastry there. It will definitely make everything magical and better. No worry, no need to thank me. Don't you worry, you deserve it.

You deserve it because I didn't actually sprinkle love onto your dessert, instead I sprinkled it with something a tad more devious--actual sprinkles!

Muhahahaaha, The Sprinkled Bandit strikes again.

Artist's conception of The Sprinkled Bandit

The Sprinkled Bandit strikes quickly and effectively. If he's done his job correctly, you won't even realize you've consumed his tasteless piles of... piles of whatever the heck sprinkles are made from. I'm against the Sprinkle Bandit because he never imparts positive flavors and occasionally leaves a bizarre texture over something as wonderful as desserts.

And there's a reason the Sprinkle Bandit plies his trade in the field of desserts. You really can't ever complain about desserts, unless there's some sort of raisin contraption in one. Otherwise, dessert is nothing but gravy--sugar and candy and everything nice. If there's a little bit of bizarre in the form of a sprinkle on the plate, who cares, the rest tastes great.

He especially delights in ruining ice cream. Have you ever actually had ice cream with sprinkles on it? Or even worse, one of those cruddy "birthday cake" ones where you're like "All right! Frozen frosting" only to have to wade through a literal pool of frozen shards of pain and agony? I'm certain that situation describes many of us, yet that Sprinkled Bandit keeps striking.

That's why I'm making it my goal in life to destroy The Sprinkled Bandit.

One of the easiest ways to launch this offensive is by taking down "Silver Dragees." With a name like that, many might think it's some sort of psychoactive drug with mind-bending powers and that's how we'll take it down. You're close, but not there yet. The silver dragee are those little silver balls that hack cake decorators put on cake to bling out the dessert.

Please act now before The Sprinkled Bandit
creepily claims another victim.

When I describe sprinkles as inedible, I'm being facetious. But when I call dragees inedible, I'm just referencing the Food and Drug Administration. As anyone who has ever read the packaging for silver drapees knows, they're "intended for decorative purposes only." Oh, and originally, the silver dragees had mercury in it to achieve its the vibrant mind-altering color.

That right there is easy to take down. Nobody likes to eat what is literally inedible, and they especially hate getting Hunter-Russell syndrome from a dessert product. From there it's just a domino effect. Bye bye dragees. See ya red frosting. Hundreds and Thousands? More like nones and nones. Chocolate sprinkles? Okay, we can keep those, since their name implies they have a flavor imparted on them. Ta ta non pareils.

And then it's time to take down sprinkles. Dragees crumbled because they had no taste other than "lead poisoning." Sprinkles have no taste other than "no taste," so it's a very similar situation.

Next time your dessert trifles or ice cream sandwiches or falafel comes out, if there's a sprinkle on it, refuse it. Send it back and demand one without a flavor deadening piece of flavor. Only then will we develop the groundswell of support necessary to take down that nefarious Sprinkle Bandit.

A diet high in microfiber will kill you

“Hey Kevin, do you want to come help me and all of my supermodel friends do a car wash to raise money for how super hot we are?”

This is a common question I receive, and it sounds great on paper, but I know exactly the path it's leading down. Regardless, I reply “Sure!”

“Great! If you could pick us up some supplies like soap... AND MICROFIBER MUHAHaHAHAHA! That'd be great.”

This picture alone proves microfiber
is a sham... wow.

Yup, I almost fell for the siren song again. They didn't actually want me to shoot lecherous leers at them, they were merely sleeper cell agents from the microfiber industry, intent on foisting their horrific product on the masses.

For those who don't know, microfiber is that bizarre material generally used when polishing a car or wiping off a camera lens. To touch it is like touching an octopus, because it will latch onto you and not let go until you start vomiting. I'm pretty sure it has extraterrestrial origins.

Seriously, there has to be evil porcupine wizards inside of it to give such an awful texture. At work, we make the new people deal with anything microfiber related. From putting it back in its spot to touching it to powerwashing the old people day, everything microfiber-related falls under their jurisdiction.

Now microfiber apologists might claim the material dries things really well. I would agree with that point, except you know what also dries things really well? Normal towels, abnormal towels, dogs, cats, vacuums, pontoons and giraffes all possess the ability to make something drier. Basically anything that is a thing will dry other things. You do not need to bring a nausea inducing awfulness into cleaning—an act that's already awful in and of itself.

The apologists might also claim the rate of microfiber absorption speeds things up because you don't need to rewipe the same spot. Well, just keep in mind, when you hold the thing out at arms length and touch it with the smallest surface area possible (I once got it down to a square nanometer), it's going to hinder any speed gains. And it ill engender hatred at everything.

Keep in mind, I'm not the type to just go off on a product without doing diligent research. It seems microfiber was raised in Sweden in the 1990s. Like the weed it is, it slithered across the pond and convinced Rubbermaid to start marketing itself to the masses in 2007.

It goes without saying we're in a much worse place now than those glorious pre-microfiber days. In the years since microfiber materials arrived, we've met nothing but problems. Global recession? Microfiber. Too dry of golden retrievers? Microfiber. Cars that proactively repel hobo urine? Again, it's microfiber at fault.

I would say we should just burn it all and feel good for doing the world a favor, but I realized something, that's what it wants us to do. You don't just create a product that's designed to make people hate it without an ulterior motive. It's like disco in that way.

Luckily, I have stumbled upon a solution. Wikipedia says microfiber can hold up to eight times its own weight. What we simply need to do is get nine times its body weight in some awful material. Something like ipecac, gin or shrimp. Something nobody would want to go near. The combination of the awfulness of the liquid and its sheer size will cause the vile microfiber to drown, and we as a human race can live happily ever after in our world that is clean without the hindrance of microfiber towels.

But that might be what the microfiber wants us to do...