Triple Decker Oreo Signals Man's Progress Toward Superhuman Destiny

Illustration for article titled Triple Decker Oreo Signals Man's Progress Toward Superhuman Destiny

What would it take to make the Oreo—perhaps the most architecturally perfect dessert, ever—look like garbage? Another layer of cookie. The Triple Double Oreo, out this summer, is the cookie version of the 2001: A Space Odyssey monolith.


Oh, but you poor fool, it's far more than just another layer of chocolate cookie. Is your mortal mind prepared for this? We'll see. In addition to another stratum of crumble, the Triple Double contains both vanilla and chocolate cream. Three cookies. Two fillings. The same wonderful circular form as before. Are you worthy? Am I? Is anyone. Probably not, no.

What happens when you open the bag? Do you hear the harps of angels? The cackling of Satan? The roaring chorus of O Fortuna?

And what about when you—I struggle to even type this—eat one of these cookie ICBMs? Will you hear your arteries slowly bulge, glistening, one by one, like walrus heads rising in the arctic twilight? Will you have an orgasm and lose consciousness? Will you create a split in the space-time continuum? Will you dunk it in milk? If so—for how long?

I wait for our species to answer these questions together, as one civilization, united. Today is May 13th. Our hours to prepare for the arrival of this creme harbinger are few. I suggest you begin to brace yourself now. [via Consumerist]



When I was 8 years old, I played sick to stay home from school. Being the latchkey kid to a single mom of the eighties, my mother bid me a farewell and went off to work. Before the invention of the household microwave oven I had become quite proficient in the art of oven baking my Tv dinners. After my lunch was finished and not finding the always half cooked brownie satisfying enough I went in search of another desert. To my surprise, there was an unopened bag of Oreos in the pantry hidden behind the canned beets.

I sat down with my milk and cookies in front of "you can't do that on television" and started eating. After splitting and licking a few, I decided that the cookies were good with milk and the cream was good on its own. I separated all the cookies from their creamy centers and put them in a big glass, grabbed a spoon and filled the glass with milk. The remaining cream I scraped off the glass coffee table and rolled into a ball as big as my hand.

I ate every last chocolatey drop of my Oreo soup then turned my sights on the big greasy cream ball. I ate it like an apple at first then rolled the remaining "core" into another ball and ate that too. I may have been able to keep the meal down for about ten minutes before it all came back up on the coffee table, green shag carpet and the sofa.

I haven't really been a big fan of Oreos since then.