I have a dream. I dream that someday, I will be able to enter a grocery store, a convenience store, a retail warehouse, a concession stand at a stadium, a gas station, or perhaps even a forest without the specter of seeing an aisle filled with dirty little cookies in blue packaging with the infernal word “Oreos” stamped on them in big, bold letters. 

I dream that someday, the members of the House and the Senate will reach across both sides of the aisle, set aside their differences, and declare loudly in a unified voice that this so-called treat is not based in chocolate, but actually based in charcoal. I have a dream that someday, somehow, laws will be passed on the local, state, and federal levels that restrict the varieties of Oreo cookies available to the general public for purchase to six — or less. I fantasize about life in a hometown, in a state, within a nation, within a hemisphere, and even on a planet in the throes of a straight-up Oreo shortage. I could watch that every second of every minute of every hour of every day for weeks on end laughing uncontrollably as zombie-like Oreo lovers descended deeper into madness embarking on an endless search for their beloved mud morsels. But as with all delightful dreams, I eventually woke up. And here I am — still in the preposterousness of a world awash with Oreo products. It’s entirely safe for me to say proudly and unapologetically that I still hate Oreos … with a passion.

It was one year ago that I wrote a piece in this space entitled “I Hate Oreo Cookies.” That was without a doubt my most well-received column entry. I heard from people from all over who weighed in on my well-established hatred of all things Oreo. Half of them totally agreed with me. The other half could not have disagreed with me more — and they weren’t at all shy about making me aware of that. I had thoughts about doing a follow-up piece in recent months, but my mind was too preoccupied on other things. 

It was all fun and games until this past Monday morning. I was at Publix having a grand ole time shopping and minding my own business when I reached the cookie aisle. I was on a mission for Biscoff cookies. You want to talk about an utterly delicious cookie? Biscoff cookies are the bomb dot com. If you don’t like Biscoff — and I mean this semi-sincerely — you should probably take a few days off, find a beautiful beach somewhere, and silently contemplate your life choices. 

Anyway, I had to pass the seemingly infinite number of Oreo cookie varieties on my way to my beloved Biscoffs. While leaving the cookie aisle, I saw something that first straightened my short hair into an afro, then curled it, and then made it all fall out from disgust. Nabisco – a.k.a. the National Biscuit Company, a.k.a. the proprietors of these midnight-colored, circular-shaped tributes to peat moss — had set up a display filled with its newest, unneeded/wanted Oreo flavor: fireworks Oreo. 

What in the name of St. Elmo’s fire is a fireworks Oreo cookie? I’m really glad you asked. Do you remember Pop Rocks candy from the 1970s and ‘80s? That infernal, quasi-dangerous candy that literally popped in your mouth as you ate it? Yeah, well someone in a position of power decided to create and approve a brand of Oreo cookies with Pop Rocks candy embedded with the crème of the cookies. National Biscuit Company, I’m so very sad at you right now.

I just literally had a conversation with a respected colleague of mine who didn’t hesitate to share her deep love of Oreo cookies with me. She stated matter-of-factly that while she doesn’t eat Oreos very often, she loves to completely cover them with peanut butter whenever she does. Apparently, peanut butter is her very favorite thing. When I asked her if she eats her peanut butter-encased sod biscuits with or without the crème in the middle, her green eyes lit up as she readily replied, “Absolutely! The peanut butter makes the Oreo crème taste even better.” In related news, a mirror at my house just fell off the wall and shattered upon the floor. Coincidence? I think not.

Is replacing the crème in Oreos a thing? One of my seminarian classmates has a recipe for homemade vodka-infused crème I’m told is to die for. However, I don’t drink alcohol. And I wouldn’t eat an Oreo for the fountain of youth. Therefore, I have no idea if his modified Oreo cookies are any good. Vodka briquettes, anyone?

It’s still a free country. The U.S. Constitution still offers American citizens life, liberty, and the pursuit of cookies and crème-stained teeth. I personally prefer walking on dirt as opposed to chewing on dirt.

In summary, I find Oreos evil. Why aren’t they classified as devil’s food? Roses are red, jelly on toast, burnt cookie compost.

Arthur Jones is a Thomasville native.