what rocks? (rc cola)

rc cola
(aka royal crown cola)
(aka “the ross perot of cola beverages”)

why it rocks: because anything with the word “royal” in it makes you feel like a king/queen. throw in the bonus of drinking a beverage with an acronym – because all acronyms are cool, except the ones that phonetically spell words different from their actual spelling (i.e. KEWL; Knowledge Environment for Web-based Learng) – and one can’t help but be seduced into a self-esteem spree when drinking the luxurious, luscious, luminous cola-riffic liquid goodness that is rc cola. 

why else it rocks: because in the 1950s, the combination of rc cola and moonpies became known as the “working man’s lunch” in the american south. i keep re-reading the previous sentence for the pure joy of salivating. also, i know what i'll be eating for lunch tomorrow and the next two hundred days after that.

seriously, what’s the deal with it rocking: how can one NOT imagine the following scenario: a jubilant, rambunctious pre-teen with angelic pigtails goes by the name goldilocks. it’s a brilliantly warm summer day and she is extensively bored. so she runs away from home following a dispute with her brother over the mating habits of goldfish and runs into the woods. like all small children, she is at first fascinated by the woods, then bored by them and then petrified by their towering shadows as the sun begins to dip into the oblivion of the horizon. before a panic attack ensues, goldilocks finds a home that just so happens to be owned by a clan of soda-enthusiasts who also just so happen to be bears. she knocks, there is no answer. the damn sun continues to retire behind the hills and goldilocks gets desperate. she slips in nimbly through the broken window behind the house. it’s been a long day, she is thirsty, she thinks she is dying of thirst, then remembers that it takes several weeks to die of thirst but then worries that maybe she is the exception to this rule. she has already come this far – running away from home, fantasizing about her stupid brother’s violent death, breaking and entering – why not add thieving food and drink to her list. so she opens the refrigerator, allowing a chilly breeze to evaporate into and throughout the cozy unknown home; she smiles, a prelude to the drink she will soon imbibe. first, she pulls out a can of poppa bear’s pepsi. she takes a sip, spits it out and declares this soda “tastes much too plastic-y.” then she takes a swig of momma bear’s coke, which she also spits out and declares “too damn sugary.” her pulse increases dynamically, sweat multiplies and slurs into the nooks of her undeveloped body. is there a beverage out there that can possibly satiate her furious and mysterious desires? in an act of desperation, she reaches for baby bear’s rc cola. her sip turns into a gulp turns into a swig turns into a chug. she smiles permanently, relieved, revived, herself again. “this is juuuuuuuust right,” she echoes, speaking to herself and also to no one all at once. just then, she hears keys ricochet into the door. she grabs the 24-pack of baby bear’s rc cola and escapes out the back window. she turns back momentarily, removes a photo of her brother and writes on the back “ha! i stole your rc cola. it was awesome. i regret nothing.” she leaves and vanishes into the night. 

want to see the cheapest commercial ever produced in the history of television? 

(estimated retail cost: $.02333333333)

MAKE SURE TO COMMENT AND TELL US ABOUT YOUR BEST, WORST OR MOST CONFUSING RC COLA-RELATED EXPERIENCE!