Visit with a Venerable but Retired Conspiracy Theory, New Coca-Cola Denier
Hi. You probably don’t remember me or don’t even know me at all if you are under a certain age. Once upon a time I was big in the world of Conspiracy Theories Deniers, maybe close to the biggest.
Those were the days!
I am New Coca-Cola Denier, or New Coke Denier for short. In the 1980’s I was the penultimate Conspiracy Theory with millions and millions of adherents, bigger than COVID-19 Denier, bigger than Climate Change Denier, and even bigger than 2020 Election Legitimacy Denier.
Holocaust Denier? Well, you can’t have everything.
The time: 1985, when I was born.
The Place: Atlanta Georgia, headquarters of the Coca-Cola Company.
Then, as now, Coca-Cola was the Number One soft drink in the world. When Coke — crisp, delicious, undeniably refreshing — first rolled over your tongue, it delivered that inimitable, indescribable, ineffable:
ZIPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP
that has never been duplicated, never been equaled.
But that wasn’t enough for the top executives of the Coca-Cola Company. They met together in cabal and hatched an evil plan. If they changed the formula for Coke, the nation would rebel against the bogus product and demand the return of original Coke, causing sales to go through the proverbial roof.
And that’s exactly what Coca-Cola did. They “retired” original Coca-Cola and introduced a rapidly slapped together insipid new cola termed “New Coke” which when it first rolled over your tongue produced an inimitable, indescribable, ineffable:
Poof.
This was no riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma. This was fraud!
And then I arose, and millions of human adherents flocked to my side from all round the world. They marched, they organized, they called out New Coke for the feckless poseur it was. True, nobody ever stormed any buildings for my sake because nobody thought of antlers as a fashion statement back then, and the most violent act anyone ever perpetrated was shaking up a can of New Coke and spritzing it over random Coca- Cola executives.
But I was at the top of the world, ma!
And then one day original Coca-Cola was back, now termed Coca-Cola Classic, and with it returned that inimitable, indescribable, ineffable Coca-Cola:
ZIPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP
that has never been duplicated, never been equaled.
And to the surprise of none of my millions of minions, sales of Coca-Cola Classic reached stratospheric heights and before long New Coke belonged to the ages.
It was a victory, but not for me.
Once Original Coke returned, my acolytes’ passion for me cooled down like a long-distance runner sated with Coca-Cola Classic after finishing the Boston Marathon in near record time. Eventually I took early retirement and moved to Boca.
It’s bittersweet, of course.
Climate Change Denier came to visit once but he only stayed 15 minutes, said he had to rush off to a meeting with Donald Trump. There’s no doubt his career got a huge boost from his association with Trump.
Hey, where’s my Roy Cohn?
You may have heard that my wife 9/11 Denier has left me. It hurt but I understand it. She’s younger, far more versatile with many disparate 9/11 theories under her belt, and still has a lot of denying ahead of her. I hear she’s dating Jeffrey Epstein Suicide Denier, an upstart pipsqueak if there ever was one.
So, thank you for listening. Right now, I’m going out with my friend Chevy Chase to a senior discount buffet at Denny’s which starts at 4:30 and goes to 6:00.
It’s not half bad, and they have all the Coke you can drink.
