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Like many persons of renown, Pete Rose is not opposed to being paid redeemable U.S. currency in exchange for saying nice things about very specific goods and services. In the example shortly to follow, Pete Rose is, by implication, suggesting that consumption of Kool-Aid powdered drink mix -- via large-volume tub or single-serve packet delivery system -- is recommended because one dare not risk angering Kool-Aid's tomato-seeming warrior-poet.
Please do observe:
Harrowing. Yet good for you. Also, it's not impossible that that's Harold Faltermeyer working the synth in that jingle.
In any event, the discerning observer will note that Mr. Rose, endorsement thespian nonpareil, conjured up two expressions of mortal shock -- expressions we shall henceforth refer to in the aggregate with the Latin-sounding phrase, Kool-Aid Man Agape-Stupefaction Shockstonishment Magnus Maximus.
Instance one, in which Pete Rose's amazement cascades into a desire to teach that meddlesome Kool-Aid Man a thing or two regarding a thing or two:
Adding to the miseries is that, this being 1986, Kool-Aid Man remorselessly deprived Rose of his first well-struck base hit in almost two years.
Now instance two, in which Pete Rose, now beginning to fathom the otherwordly powers of Kool-Aid Man, will soon determine that he'd better worship Kool-Aid Man as a conquering god, lest Kool-Aid Man reduce him to embers like his mortal nemesis, the load-bearing brick wall:
Note the symptomatic gaping maw on Mr. Rose. Also note these grainy similarities:
Kool-Aid Man Agape-Stupefaction Shockstonishment Magnus Maximus.
You see, we drink Kool-Aid because we fear the consequences of not drinking Kool-Aid.
How is this news? It's not. Munch on that.
