Fridge space is an extremely valuable resource and many would consider it a waste to use that space for a bag of Frito-lays.
Of course, most people also say: exercise is important, eating raw meat is bad, and “sir, you’re not allowed to use those toenail clippers without purchasing them first… …I’m going to have to ask you to leave. CLEAN UP IN AISLE 5!”
But putting a bag, even a small one, of sour cream and onion chips in the back of your fridge could be a life-saver. And here’s why:
It seems unlikely that full scale war is going to break out any time soon, but there’s always the possibility of a calamity, natural disaster, or plague of country music singers right around the corner. It’s important to be prepared.
The space-savers could always stock a can or two of Pringles if they don’t mind looking too pretentious. There is certainly a balance between life-saving and economical.
It’s also unlikely that many of you have a lead-lined fridge like the one featured in that appalling Indiana Jones film. If, by chance, you do, then you’re one step closer to saving your life with potato chips.
No one is saying you need to get a family-size bag of tostitos. There’s no point, if you’re not also going to stockpile salsa.
It’s unlikely that today’s plastic and foam refrigerators will survive a rowdy super bowl party let alone any type of block-leveling explosion. (Not that these two events are mutually exclusive.) But there is a small chance that the contents of your fridge could survive into the apocalypse. And that’s the goal.
A small bag of fake-cheddar-flavored potato crisps isn’t going to feed you long in the apocalypse. Don’t eat them. At this point they are more valuable as currency, and let’s be honest, they were never really valuable as nutrition.
You can buy off-brand chips for $1.50. Is your life really not worth $1.50?
The country music singers are prowling the rubble which is all that remains of your city block. You’ve managed to carve out a Harry Potter style living quarters under the remains of a half-destroyed staircase. You are eagerly awaiting your letter from the Jedi Star Force Academy, but instead crazed-musicians, wielding guitars like battle axes and electronic keyboards like large unwieldy percussion instruments, find your little hovel.
They look like they are ready to kill and eat you, or worse, perform an impromptu concert. Luckily you’ve saved your secret weapon. The potato chips! You beckon them to follow you, everyone has forgotten how to use language. You wave with your hands and eventually they get the message.
You show them the chips and offer them the bag with both hands, palms up, an offering for the roving gang. Will they accept?
It’s unlikely that they’ll take you up on such a meager offering. It’s unlikely they’ll like BBQ flavoring. It’s also unlikely you haven’t already opened the bag. You’re probably dead.
But there’s always a chance that these chips could be the thing that save your life. And none of this would be possible if you didn’t put those chips in your lead-lined, basement fridge in preparation for this exact event.