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Sriracha Production MUST NOT END: An Open Letter To Irwindale, California

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Dear Irwindale, California,

How could you do this to me?

30 of your shitty, oversensitive residents just threw a tantrum that threatens my very existence. They filed complaints that the Sriracha factory in your town caused “irritated eyes and throats, headaches, and unbearable odors.” Your city then filed a suit claiming that the odor was a public nuisance.

A public nuisance!?

I understand. Some people are pussies. Some people have fragile sensibilities that are thrown out of whack with the slightest turbulence. But did you take a even a moment to think about the thousands–nay, the millions–of poor souls across the world that rely on Sriracha on a daily basis to be able to eat anything at all? Did you think about the rugged few among us who carry this country on our backs? There are those of us that need flavor in our lives. We may be a silent minority, but goddamn it, we exist. We can’t eat just plain white bread. It’s cardboard. Plain white rice doesn’t satisfy us. It’s insipid. As he’s wont to do, The Oatmeal said it best:

Screen Shot 2013-10-30 at 11.29.46 AM

I remember my first encounter with the heavenly hot sauce. I was but a child, but I knew, as soon as the Sriracha-doused pizza touched my tongue, that my life had changed forever. I had tasted the nectar of the Gods. Since that fateful day, the unique mix of fiery spiciness with the hint of sweetness and an underlying delicious Thai flavor has enhanced countless shitty meals. Sriracha makes ramen noodles taste like Beef Bolognan. Sriracha makes $5 Asian lunch combos taste like they were made by Jiro himself.

I’ll admit, I may have developed a problem. My tolerance and obsession have built to scary levels. I put Sriracha on my cereal every morning. But I need this. My family needs this. What are we supposed to do? Use a pitiful, watered-down excuse for hot sauce like Frank’s Red Hot or Tabasco? I’d sooner welcome death.

Please don’t go through with this. My life is in your hands. Cancel the suit, move to a different block, and let’s stay friends.

Regards,

Spills

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If this open letter fails and they actually shut down Sriracha production, please join us in drinking our pain away.

 

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