I’ve just resurfaced from the deep web to find my darkest suspicions confirmed: there’s something sinister afoot with Top Ramen. Not inside the package itself, I suspect—personally, I haven’t eaten one in about a decade and wouldn’t start now, what with Passover and all—if the dehydrated noodles and apocalypse-proof bouillon formula ain’t broke, why fix it?
No, whatever dark evil even has set down roots in the first quarter of what will in all reasonable likelihood be the first full year of a long depression, its fruit is most certainly Top Ramen. Suddenly, on Twitter and Facebook and Google Zeitgeist, the noodles of destruction are all people can talk about.
The correlation is clear. At between 5c and 25c a package, recessions and Ramen are as natural a pair as April showers and May flowers. But for the love of G-d, could our renewed love of Ramen come at a worse moment? At the yet untold height of our obesity epidemic and under the added burden of limitless healthcare costs, the last thing we should be doing is stocking up on Styrofoam cups whose net contents include your entire daily value of sodium. If you gotta go noodles, make it Maggi 2-Minute Noodles, the preferred recession snack of those who know.