The higher intelligence behind Doritos packaging (a/k/a, God LLC's 50th Post!)

Standing in the rain chatting with a fellow the other night about philosophy and all the fruits that the examined life can bring, we couldn't quite decide whether it was a road to liberation or tyranny, happiness or depression. We wanted to say liberation and happiness (nature favors optimism), but we lamented what we both agreed was an anti-climax with respect to philosophy's promise of greater clarity and enlightenment.

That night I went home and sat upright in bed and partook an odd ritual—I ate a bag of Spicy Sweet Chile Doritos just before turning out the light. As a side note, this made my tongue very raw the next morning and so I don't recommend doing this. But as I was finishing off the bag I was examining the packaging. Having some design expertise, I am often fascinated by the finer details of product packaging, particularly when those products are of as meager import as corn chips. This of course does not stop them from strutting as though they were the life-blood of a generation, able to adapt to the times like Modonna, pre-American Life.

Unfortunately though for snack food, such ambitions are quite out of reach. Beer is of a slightly more respectable pedigree and commands a proportionately greater amount of respect. This is of course evidenced by the more frequent use of crests, and shields, and ornate badges suggestive of awards—or in the case of Tecate, a reich-ish eagle ("Excuse me, do you have any Nazi-approved beer?").

Still, though snack food may occupy the near-lowest totem on the hierarchy of consumed goods, this does not stop Doritos from trying to offer me an "experience" beyond that of the "game-changing" "bold and daring" flavor of their sensational "flavored tortilla chips." Such transient, mere hunger-staving fulfillment is apparently limiting. And besides that's not what you payed 99¢ for, you wanted an "EXPERIENCE!"

And an experience you'll have—if you just visit snackstrongproductions.com! It's there that you'll realize Doritos is far more than a corn chip manufacturer. Doritos is a lifestyle, doy! And they've teamed up with E.A. Sports to bring you more great Doritos® brand experiences—which is exciting!

Here's a question, why should a corn chips website take over a minute to load because of some fancy Flash feature? And just how much do people who construct fancy corn chip websites get paid? I'm honestly curious about this second question (and if you have any leads on snack food design prospects, please find a way to get in touch with me, I'm on the internet).

My guess is, they get payed a lot. Like, a lot-a lot. And all so a corn chip manufacturer can stay "relevant." Of course, in effect I can think of few things less relevant than on-fire tortilla chips, bitted-out squiggles and the color purple—but hey, I'm not from Plano, TX, so what do I know.

Maybe by now you're wondering like I am, what this has to do with the supposed purpose of this blog. At times on this forum, this has meant that I'm about to address irony. But since it's hard to do this without sounding like a total gay-fag (pardon my southpark) I'll just note that at the end of the day, I've been more seduced by Philosophy's promise of a better life than Doritos' (I know, a bit naive of me of to say...). Maybe it's a mistake, perhaps both are equally invalid. But the difference, for me, has been sustenance vs. empty calories.