Mountain Dew: A Liquid Lust Redux

While aimlessly meandering through the aisles of Big K-Mart, in search of nothing in particular, I came across what I perceived as a "must-buy". I stopped, mid-saunter, making eyeball-love with the cascading curves of a sexy citrus soda. The beautiful lime-green sheen reflected in my now-innocent eyes, erasing all evils that sought to envelope my soul, while simultaneously sending my taste buds into a frivolous and somewhat Pavlovian rain dance of sorts. The deep-throated croon of the God who occupies my innards spoke out, a beacon beckoning through the dull, dimly lit, generally shitty-looking K-Mart. Do you reject Satan, and all his works, and all his empty promises? My convalescent voice spoke but a whisper, assuring the carbonated beverage its rightful place as my one and only, my love for eternity.

 "I dew."

This, quite simply, is the physiological reaction of my body upon spotting a lonely Mountain Dew. Except this time, there was something different about my lover. A vintage-looking logo. Some strange old man, decked out in plaid, inexplicably shooting a cork through his patchwork cowboy hat. Dew? Are you in there? I thought, cocoons in my lower intestine threatening to explode into a circus of butterflies. I picked up the bottle to inspect further. Mountain Dew Throwback? WHO ARE YOU AND WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH MOUNTAIN DEW?! I pulled the bottle even closer, clutching it with the lusty fervor of a hopeless spinster and studying it with the menacing eyes of a fat baby in a Hardee's. Made with real sugar, eh? That's kinky, MD. I could get into that. 

So I bought it. And it was delicious. And the love I felt during the consumption of the dastardly Dew reminded me of an essay I wrote a few years back entitled "Mountain Dew: A Liquid Lust". The essay is part of a now-deceased blog I had during my junior year of college, a blog created solely to showcase a collection of essays I had been writing. (I say "collection" like I'm David Sedaris or something. There were only five essays by my count, one of which was a poem I wrote for Sarah, my girlfriend at the time. Hardly a collection.) But the essay about Mountain Dew fits perfectly with this blog post, so I'll go ahead and post it as a bookend to this carbonated romance novel of sorts. Here you are:

MOUNTAIN DEW: A LIQUID LUST

Can one have a genetic predisposition to Mountain Dew consumption? As an Italian, I know that I am genetically predisposed to eating spaghetti. That's more or less an ethnic fact. But Mountain Dew, as far as I can tell, has no immediate connection to Italy excluding the fact that it's colors are that of the Italian flag. Also, it turns your piss a lush, vibrant yellow. But that's more of an added bonus than anything.

How have I arrived at this point, you ask? Well, there was a period in my life, appearing more like a void in retrospect, where the citrus soda was inexplicably absent from my life and, more importantly, my refrigerator. Even amongst varying degrees of sobriety, nary once did I ever encounter a dew during this carbonated ice-age of sorts. In the immediate, I don't inherently know why one would consider nature's own dew drops fit for consumption. All I know is that if nature's dew drops ever rivaled that of its soft drink counterpart, I would ascend the nearest mountainside, mouth agape, over-indulging at the rate of Barney Gumble on a Sunday afternoon at Moe's. But that's just me.

Let's get down to the nitty-gritty. Mountain Dew is awesome. That's a perpetual given. However, there are two arguments (and ONLY two) that I often hear against the beverage. Both are bullshit. The first argument comes from those who don't even enjoy carbonated beverages to begin with, and goes a little something like this:

"Blegh! I don't drink soft drinks." - Person A

Person A is a douchebag. Not only do they sound whiny, but their so-called "argument" is also devoid of credibility. I mean, what else does this person not enjoy? Puppies? Babbling babies? Diet Mountain Dew? It's bullshit. Also, refraining from drinking soft drinks isn't something you just instinctively do. You do it because you've either drank it before and didn't like it or you thought it was unhealthy. This can mean one of two things - a) God didn't bless you with half-decent taste buds or b) you care far more about your health than you do about having fun. But sugar = fun. So what the heck is your problem? Okay, so maybe you're not a fan of sugar. Which means you probably had a lot of cavities as a child. Which, again, eliminates all of your credibility. You are now completely biased because you're afraid of your family dentist, and therefore averse to all things sugar. But c'mon, if you aren't ingesting sugar at an alarming rate in this country then what are you doing? Sudoku? That's no fun. And fun is exactly what Mountain Dew preaches - "Do the Dew". Assuredly, the excluded final word in the slogan is "bitch". And to anyone who remains unconvinced about the deliciousness of the aforementioned beverage, I say - "Do the Dew, bitch."

The second and only alternative argument against Mountain Dew is that it kills your sperm. And in one way, that's a fact. If you ejaculate into a container filled with Mountain Dew, it will most definitely kill all of that sperm. And why is that? Because the air kills your sperm. I don't hear anyone knocking air consumption though. So if you continue insisting that Mountain Dew is a "spurderer" (that's 'sperm' and 'murder' combined) then you probably don't like breathing. Thusly, anyone using this argument against the Dew has ultimately already met their demise. Justly? Don't ask me. I'm not here to judge the living and the dead. That's what Jesus is for. And do you know why he is seated at the right hand of the Father? Because the left hand was holding a dew. And God was like "Don't even think about it."

Ok, ok. So the ACTUAL way that Mountain Dew supposedly kills your sperm is from within, not post-ejaculation. I know that. And you know what? That's STILL bullshit. In fact, I remember hearing something along the lines of, "All soft drinks lower your sperm count. Not just the dew." Even though this is probably false, I will prove it wrong anyway:

I suppose if I were to question each and every male with a child, they would, probably in a fit of joy, exclaim that they have never consumed a soft drink in their lifetime and thusly, have a child to show for it. Not a chance. It's much more likely and probably certain that every male ever has, at some point, felt the rush of the frothy, cold carbonation in his mouth. Under the assumption that sperm will die, you can safely assume any and all males will refrain from participating in the event at hand. Mother is to child as man is to sperm.

And such am I to Mountain Dew.