Listen, I know the cupcake comes from humble beginnings. It started working at kiddie birthday parties and maybe a low-key bridal shower. When I was a kid, cupcakes were just an easy sugar-filled snack for busy moms to throw together. I hate to knock a treat that obviously worked it’s way up on the desert social ladder.
However, this mini-cake has grown too big for it’s britches. And by britches, I mean wax paper wrapping. Suddenly, these cheap little deserts cost $5 a pop. They need entire cookbooks instructing you on how to make them more adorable. They’re making inroads at weddings and high-class functions that would have never dreamed of serving a little kid cake just a decade ago.
I’m sorry. I know that plenty of you out there have a thing for these little wads of sugar. I know because you’re constantlyÂ rhapsodizingÂ about how amazing and cute cupcakes are. You’reÂ worshipingÂ Zooey Deschanel and adding to the cupcake’s obvious superiority complex. I’m sorry to tell you, but you’re an enabler of the cupcakes serious narcissism issue.
Please, for just a minute, let’s think about what the cupcake really represent! It’s the downfall of society!
For years, civilization was content sharing a cake. We would cut out a slice for ourselves, hopefully a corner piece. We would pass that cake around and share it with our neighbors or co-workers. There once was a time when families and communities came together on their shared love of sugar. Now, that connection is gone. [tagbox tag="cupcakes"]
People aren’t happy with sharing a desert anymore. No, you self-centered sweet-toothes have to have your own personal treat, just for you. Screw sharing with Phil from the Accounting Department. And we thought Marie Antoinette was naive? Instead of, “Let them eat cake,” this new generation needs their own personalized cake shaped like a stiletto shoe or Karl Lagerfeld. We can’t even share that cake!
You want to know what else cupcakes symbolize? Laziness.
Why make a cake for everyone when you can just make a really small thing for a single person? Why create a big, fancy and impressive masterpiece when you can settle for a cute little treat that seems to rot your teeth before you even bite into it? That’s enough. We’re settling here, because MPDG has told us that it’s okay. In fact, it’s Â not just okay, it’s adorable.
Sorry cupcakes, but I’m putting an end to your ruthless social climbing. I think this treat needs a reality check. This cake needs to be put back in its place. And that place is not on the bra of pop stars.
Sorry cupcakes… you’re not that cute. You are not a special little snowflake in the world of deserts. You’re the child-sized cake. You’re the thing we give infants on their first birthdays so they don’t make too much of a mess. The truth hurts, but someone needs to let you know.