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Pop-Tarts Should Never Be Toasted

It’s a boxed pastry. There’s no need to get fancy with a bougie-ass char

I don’t know if it’s because I’m an Aquarius, the youngest sibling or a straight-up bitch, but I’ve never been one for arbitrary rules. Wear white after Labor Day — who cares? What’s more, go ahead and keep your camera off during Zoom calls. Eat your meals in bed, too. 

Oh, and never toast your Pop-Tarts. 

For 23 years, I lived in peace. I never tasted a charred packaged pastry. (Toaster Strudel? She doesn’t exist in the world I live in.) That all changed in early August when three friends and I ventured into the mountains of Pennsylvania to live our Folklore fantasy. We camped. We swam. We cooked all our meals over a bonfire. On our last morning, we had ourselves a Walmart feast: Kroger instant coffee, Pillsbury cinnamon rolls and cinnamon-flavored Pop-Tarts. 

I went out for a “walk” — running half a mile to the only spot with cell reception. Upon returning to our campsite, riding high after feeding my Twitter addiction, I witnessed a murder: charred, toasted Pop-Tarts stacked on top of each other. 

My fight-or-flight kicked in. Should I throw a fit that someone took time to graciously cook me food I never asked for, or do I muster up the courage to eat a toasted Pop-Tart? 

Though I have a flair for the dramatics, it was in my best interest to take after the wise words of “New York” herself — Tiffany Pollard — and sit there and eat my food. 

How was the Pop-Tart? It was fine. 

I enjoyed how the smoky flavor of gas-station wood paired with the cinnamon-sugar icing. But, honestly, it tasted like hot fondant — an unnecessary flourish on an already intense sugar palate. 

Why would you toast a Pop-Tart? Think about it: You’re literally expending physical and electrical energy to toast a $4.00 pastry that comes in a box. Who are you even fooling with that bougie-ass char? I’m real and unfiltered, baby, and I like my Pop-Tarts raw.

Sure, Pop-Tarts were created to be toasted, but this is America: We get to decide how we want to eat our food, and I choose not to follow the rules set by a capitalist food empire like Kellogg’s, because I am a #disrupter. After all, Viagra was originally conceived to treat heart disease symptoms like hypertension; it was only during clinical trials that they realized the drug could be used to solve the problem of penis dysfunction. Similarly, Kellogg’s was founded on anti-masturbation pseudoscience, but it turned out people actually liked the corn flakes. Some guys don’t even eat the Pop-Tarts — they just fuck the box. Now that’s innovation.

What I’m saying is, you have to follow your heart.

Besides, in those two minutes you saved not burning your Pop-Tart to a crisp, you could’ve gotten a head start on your Pilates, your ANTM rewatch, or… popping a different type of tart. And wouldn’t you want a head start on that over an upset stomach from scorched pastry?