When choosing which foods to consume, I generally seek the most nutrient-rich provisions. My rations serve as fuel, which I use to power my complex, highly efficient, ass-kicking machine. I especially enjoy protein-rich foodstuffs full of real down-home flavors: be they salty, gamey, or grizzlish. I've even been known to enjoy goat milk iced cream, which manages to be both salty and gamey! What I don't like and what I will not tolerate, is Ed's recent infatuation with this God-awful frozen yogurt craze.
My nephew, Bastian, returned from his Rumspringa and turned Ed onto the white stuff. Now, I consider myself an open-minded person. I'm willing to tolerate the concept of yogurt, if only because of the obvious health benefits of eating live bacteria cultures and absorbing their life force. But frozen yogurt, at least the variety Ed and Bastian fancy, is made from a powder and contains no live bacteria, no nutrients, and not even a trace of flu virus that could exercise the immune system. In spite of its frivolousness, I might be willing to indulge Ed's misguided addiction now and again, if the frozen yogurt wasn't so girly. Ed has a hard enough time being respected by fellow males without a public obsession with spa food. Plus it tastes disgusting!
Of course the frozen yogurt store does its best to cover up the horrible taste with a variety of toppings, both sweet and fruity. Although, when I asked for beets on mine, they looked at me like I was requesting ketchup. Oh yeah, like a delicious Pennsylvania vegetable is a weirder dessert topping than some exotic fruit that doesn't even grow in the contiguous United States--what kind of idiot uses coconut for anything other than fighting off predators or dissenters on a desert island? And regardless, the very notion that you can mask the too-tart taste, is kind of like putting a suit on a lion: no matter how you dress it up, if it comes into contact with your body, it will wreak havoc on your intestines. It gives Ed horrible gas. So do yourself a favor, avoid frozen yogurt at all costs. If you have a friend or family member who eats the stuff, help them beat the habit the Schrute way: mercilessly ridicule them until they lose their appetite altogether.