Amazon sells a lot of odd stuff. The best result of that strange mix of marketing being the reviews written by those browsing Amazon’s web-site…quite hilarious. One product, Tuscan Milk has even managed to attract the attention of The New York Times who commented on the Tuscan-milk caper as it crackled around the blogosphere and remarked on the number of reviews that grew in number from just a few dozen on Saturday to several hundred by the beginning of the week. It is definitely a statement on Amazon’s corporate over-reach, but funny.
What can you say about milk? Apparently a lot— particularly if the aim is to undermine the spirit of customer reviews for Internet high jinks. Such appears to be the case behind hundreds of reviews at Amazon for a $3.99 gallon of Tuscan-brand whole milk.
Ode To Spilt Milk
By Edgar (Not Poe)
Once upon a mid-day sunny, while I savored Nuts ‘N Honey
With my Tuscan Whole Milk, 1 gal, 128 fl. oz., I swore
As I went on with my lapping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of someone gently rapping, rapping at the icebox door.
‘Bad condenser, that,’ I muttered, ‘vibrating the icebox door -
Only this, and nothing more.’
Not to sound like a complainer, but in an inept half-gainer,
I provoked my bowl to tip and spill its contents on the floor.
Stupefied, I came to muddle over that increasing puddle
Burgeoning deluge of that which I at present do adore -
Snowy Tuscan wholesomeness exclusively produced offshore -
Purged here for evermore.
And the pool so white and silky, filled me with a sense of milky
Ardor of the type fantastic of a loss not known before
So that now, to still the throbbing of my heart, while gently sobbing,
I retreated, heading straightway for the tempting icebox door -
Heedless of that pitter-patter tapping at the icebox door -
I resolved to have some more.
Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
‘This,’ said I ‘requires an extra dram of milk, my favorite pour.’
To the icebox I aspired, motivated to admire how its avocado pigment complemented my decor.
Then I grasped its wood-grain handle – here I opened wide the door;
Darkness there, and nothing more.
Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams of Tuscans I had known before
But the light inside was broken, and the darkness gave no token,
And the only words there spoken were my whispered words, ‘No more!’
Coke and beer, some ketchup I set eyes on, and an apple core -
Merely this and nothing more.
Back toward the table I was turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
‘Surely,’ said I, ‘surely that is something at my window lattice;
Let me see then, what the threat is, and this mystery explore -
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore; -
‘Tis the wind and nothing more!’
From the window came a stirring, then, with an incessant purring,
Inside stepped a kitten; mannerlessly did she me ignore.
Not the least obeisance made she; not a minute stopped or stayed she
But, with mien of lord or lady, withdrew to my dining floor -
Pounced upon the pool of Tuscan spreading o’er my dining floor -
Licked, and lapped, and supped some more.
Then this tiny cat beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
by the grand enthusiasm of the countenance she wore,
toward the mess she showed no pity, ’til I said, ‘Well, hello, kitty!’
Sought she me with pretty eyes that seemed to open some rapport.
So I pleaded, ‘Tell me, tell me what it is that you implore!’
Quoth the kitten, ‘Get some more.’
For you few who are unfamiliar with Poe’s most famous ode, “The Raven” it is a narrative poem by the American writer Edgar Allan Poe, first published in January 1845. It tells of a talking raven’s mysterious visit to a distraught lover, tracing the man’s slow decent into madness. I hope you enjoy it… evermore.