Say It Isn't So

I'd be lost without it

As if the news this morning isn't troubling enough -- a cruise ship stuck in the ocean, people forced to eat spam, spam, spam, spam, wonderful spam, glorious spam -- do I really need this update courtesy of those buzz-killing sadists at Gizmodo? "According to the Cocoa Research Association, we're consuming more chocolate than we're producing cocoa. Which means, eventually, we're going to run out. In 20 years chocolate will be like caviar. It will become so rare and so expensive that the average Joe just won't be able to afford it." Let's just say this item doesn't go over too well in the home of the SJG.  Panic pretty much breaks out in the kitchen.  Various people require immediate sedation. The eldest, a chocolate fiend since the age of one, spins out of control and must be slapped, repeatedly, and told to snap out it.  "If they run out of chocolate," he says, "I'll be so heated.  I'll hoard it.  I'll eff'n freeze it.  I'll do whatever it takes.  I'll stop at nothing." "You've got me convinced," I say, licking chocolate crumbs off the counter.  Hubby remains calm and composed.  He's already come up with a solution.  "I'll start an ETF."  "WTF's an ETF?" I ask, for I am an inquisitive gal.  "Exchange Traded Fund."  "Tell me more," I say, regretting the day I made him take all the leftover Halloween candy to work.  He goes on, eloquently, my very own walking Wikipedia.  "An exchange-traded fund is an investment fund traded on stock exchanges." "You watch too much CNBC, Dad," says the eldest, as he stockpiles Malamars and Milanos in the front closet. "You won't be saying that after my ETF for chocolate takes off," hubby says.  "So we'll be rich?" I conclude.  "Maybe," says hubby.  Maybe is good enough for me.  "What the hell are you waiting for?  Get busy!" "I'm on it," he says, "right after I take a shower."  "Without chocolate, who I am?" I ask.  But no one answers.  See that.  Already, my  identity's in jeopardy.