Hi, I’m Bob, the friendly, white-bearded fellow in the newsboy cap from those bags of Bob’s Red Mill grains that you see in your local Whole Foods.

I love making Organic Unbleached White All Purpose or Whole Wheat Pastry flours as much as I ever did, but, frankly, I’ve got to make an admission to you. Right now, as I run my fingers through the contents of this burlap sack of Gluten Free Organic Old Fashioned Rolled Oats, the only thing I want to do is murder a whole bag of Flamin’ Hot Fucking Cheetos.

Don’t get me wrong. When I started this little company decades ago, with my lovely wife, Charlee, I saw a need for wholesome, healthy, whole-grain flours, oats, and cereals. And right now, as I’m writing this, there is a similar need, in my stomach, for an entire fucking family-size bag of bright-red, 100% non-organic, 100% GMO, 100% fucking awesome Flamin’ Hot Cheetos.

I know what you’re thinking. How could Bob, from Bob’s Red Mill, whose smiling, gentle face I see in the grains, sugars, and spices aisle at my high-end organic-focused grocery store, a man who has dedicated his professional life to making my breads, pies, cakes, and cookies more wholesome and delicious, insist on a product composed of factory-farmed “corn,” hydrogenated oils, and chemicals with names longer than a row of western New York State buckwheat? To that I would say: have you ever fucking had a Flamin’ Hot Cheeto? Great. Multiply that by like fucking 800 and you’ll get an inkling about what the goddamn fuck I’m getting at.

Would it help my case or hurt it to let you know that I am ROCK HARD over here? I am Bob from Bob’s Red Mill grains, and I look like Santa Claus’s younger brother who almost graduated from seminary college, and I wear a blue newsboy cap, and I am LOSING MY WHOLESOME SHIT just thinking about eviscerating an 8.5-ounce bag of Flamin’ Hot Cheetos.

Now, before you misunderstand me, let me just allay your fears about my current stance on Bob’s Red Mill specifically and whole-grain baking generally. I was an eater long before I ground my first kernel of rye. I love how whole-grain, organic bread tastes, how it brings my community and family of five children and sixteen grandchildren together here in beautiful Milwaukie, Oregon.

But let me be clear: right now I don’t give a fuck about any of that fucking shit. Flamin’ Hot Cheetos essentially motherfucking lacerate your gums, especially when you eat a whole fucking bag of them, bought from Dollar General, washed down with a two-liter of Mountain Dew Pitch Black, while binge-slamming a whole seas-o of Dawson’s Creek. Motherfuckers.

Let me close by acknowledging again how much of a shock this may come to some of you who, over these years of using our lovingly made products in your Sunday breads, your birthday-party cakes, your elementary school bake sale cookies, have come to think of us here at Bob’s Red Mill as almost a part of your family. We could not be more honored.

But just know that, at this moment, if I have to sample one more gluten-free rice flour carob sesame bark treat from our test kitchen across the hall, I will kill everyone. I need the radioactive, toxic, non-biodegradable contents of an enormous fucking bag of Flamin’ Hot Cheetos in my head-hole, and I fucking need it now.

All the best to you and your family! Go fuck yourselves!


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