A granola bar for Halloween leads to some frank (ly stupid) conversations on Facebook
Thanks to Facebook, I managed to get into an argument about childhood obesity, gentrification, and the widening gulf between the haves and have-nots.
I can hear your thoughts now … “Was it a detailed conversation about politics?” (No.) ... “Perhaps a seriousminded thread concerning the wealth gap?” (Nuh-uh.) ... “Then it was certainly a discussion on the benefits of early education, right?” (Yeah, not even close.)
It was about a generic granola bar one of my kids acquired while out trick-or-treating, which led to me posting on Facebook (with accompanying photo of said abomination), “‘Generic granola bar’ is not only a terrible Halloween treat, it also shouldn’t even exist in this universe.”
It was not a political statement, this Facebook post. It was funny. I mean, who can’t relate? A granola bar is not exactly a 6-yearold’s version of a “treat.” It’s right up there with getting an apple. Or a nickel. It just doesn’t fit.
Nearly everyone agreed with me, nearly everyone saw the humor.
Nearly everyone.
The following is unedited. “You know. Trenton NJ has a per capita income of under 15k per year. But sure if you’re too poor to give out “good candy” your kids should not take part at all. You are shaming people for being poor. Not sure where you live but take your gentrified ideologies can take a short hike off that bridge that says the World Takes.”
This came from someone who lives out in California, which probably explains everything, but really? Really?
A few things here: I was shaming someone for handing out granola bars, not shaming them for being poor. Besides, whoever was handing out this horror show of a treat was not poor. I was trickor-treating in a well-off neighborhood. (And no, I didn’t go there because I’m a Halloween snob, I went there because that’s where we were invited by friends. They had a lovely pre-party featuring beer and pizza.) (I may ormay not have been slightly-to-moderately buzzed while out taking my kids trick-or-treating. If I was, I highly recommend it to everyone for next year.)
So no. I was not making fun of someone for being “poor.” Furthermore, anyone who has ever been to a grocery store in their lives would realize a single granola bar, no matter how generic, will cost more than a single piece of fun-size candy. You can get Halloween candy at (literally) two cents a piece. The least expensive granola bars I could find online were 15 cents a shot.
And as far asmy “gentrified ideologies” go, I mean, no. It does not apply. If anything, the person giving out granola bars would be the ones pro-gentrification, but besides, this neighborhood was in the suburbs, and … I quit.
But other people didn’t. “High corn syrup products are better. Why would you want to create a healthier atmosphere in your world!?!” wrote someone else in a sarcastic manner that one never comes across on social media, which was followed by a brief argument over the nature of “treats,” which led to me — in a moment of exasperation — posting the following: “Ok then fine. I don’t care about people who decide to feed their kids crap.”
Just when I thought it was over, someone else came back with the “maybe it’s all these people could afford” line, to which I decided to let pass, because, again, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD GRANOLA BARS ARE MORE EXPENSIVE THAN FUN SIZE BUTTERFINGERS AND ALSO WHILE I’M HERE CAN WE ALSO POINT OUT GRANOLA BARS AREN’T EXACTLY ‘HEALTH FOOD?’
The moral here, of course, is that social media can lead to impassioned discourse concerning the nature of poverty in relation food scarcity and how the privilege of wealth leads to a skewed view of what constitutes proper Halloween etiquette.
Ha! Kidding.
The real moral here is that some people are nutballs, which, to be clear, are also terrible Halloween treats.