So I understand that Nabisco — the National Biscuit Company — has just released/unleashed yet another flavor to its seemingly infinite line of Oreo cookies. Someone somewhere decided that it would be great to have Swedish Fish-flavored Oreos. What a nightmarish thought. I hate Oreos.

Think about it, folks. Here are the Oreo-infused/inspired line of food products available for purchase: cookies, toaster pastries, ice cream (cookies and cream), ice cream bars, ice cream topping, ice cream cones, candy bars, cereal, milk, milkshakes, brownies, muffins, biscuits, cakes, cupcakes, ice cream cake, cake pops, smoothies, marshmallow crème, cheesecake, pudding, thins, mini/bite-size cookies, s’mores, truffles and pie crusts. That’s not all of the Oreo products, of course, but I didn’t want to go on. Gourmet restaurants, fast food restaurant chains and ice cream chains are all in on Oreos. This is the case in America, in Asia, in Europe and throughout the world. I realize that Nabisco won’t release more Oreo products than the market can bear. I know Nabisco is in business to do business. But here’s my question: is it humanly possible for Oreos to be that much in demand? Because I truly doubt that Oreo cookies are that popular. I don’t buy it — literally and figuratively.

Here’s my simple rule of thumb on Oreo cookies. Anything that is the same color of the set of tires on my car cannot be chocolate. Charcoal? Yes. Chocolate? No. No way.

My next issue with Oreo cookies would be with the taste of them. I’m sorry. Maybe my taste buds work slightly differently from everyone else’s, but to me, Oreo cookies taste very much like dirt. If I ever decided to crumble some Oreo cookies over a bowl of Breyer’s natural vanilla ice cream — which I wouldn’t do under any circumstances, but follow my analogy — my delicious vanilla ice cream would suddenly taste like dirt. Like the dirt one would expect to find in the deepest, darkest corner of a coal mine several stories underground. At midnight. On the coldest night of winter.

Before you suggest that my American citizenship be revoked and I be deported to another country, you should know that I tried to like Oreo cookies. I really did. As a child, I liked whatever my parents liked. My father loved Oreo cookies. I vividly recall that during my middle school years, Oreos were the only kind of cookies my father bought for me and my siblings. He wanted me to like them, too. Since I love my father, I ate the dirty cookies. But I hated them. I hated Oreo cookies with the same level of passion that Lex Luther hates Superman. So I came up with a solution I thought was rather forward thinking. I would take the Oreo cookies my father would give me, go out to the backyard, lick off the crème (by far the only redeemable aspect of Oreos), and throw the cookies like little mini-frisbees. I laughed with glee at my ingenuity — that is, until the Friday my father called me out to the backyard. In a stern voice, he asked, “Look at the grass. Do you see anything wrong here?” When I looked down at the green grass, it actually seemed to be moving. That was because the grass was moving. After weeks and weeks of playing my game of Oreo Frisbees, the entire fire ant community in Dewey City had apparently relocated to our backyard. Suffice it to say, my father was not the least bit amused. I was in big, big trouble. And it was all because of the mud pie confection that is this accursed cookie.

I don’t think I’ve ever met one other individual who dislikes Oreos. Not in grade school, not in college, not in graduate school, not in seminary, not in life, and not at work. As impossible as that sounds, it’s true.

Oreo cookies with crème in every color of the rainbow. Oreo cookies with every flavored crème imaginable. Fudge covered. Double stuff. Low calorie, even. Where does it end? Does it end at all?

Perhaps you don’t have an issue with one half of the entire cookie aisle at Publix or Walmart being occupied with Oreos. Well, I do.

Am I only person who loves Cameo cookies? Now that’s a textbook example of deliciousness: a delightful, vanilla, oval-shaped cookie with vanilla crème. Naturally, Nabisco phased out Cameo cookies. There’s only one place on earth where you can find Cameos: Puerto Rico. I order them online on occasion. Cameo cookies don’t taste like dirt or coal. They taste like wafers from heaven crafted by hand by angels and delivered with classical music playing in the background.

If a foreign government ever intended to torture me, Oreos would make me sing like Lionel Richie.

Roses are red, violets are blue. I hate Oreo cookies, like the flu.