The popularity of pumpkin spice is the “Bandwagon Effect” created by the internet. Nobody actually enjoys the stuff as much as they claim. It’s simply an annual virtue signaling orgy that is maybe three years away from being dedicated a three month federal holiday.

Smack my weasel and call me Zoomer, in the toiletry aisle at Walmart I just spied bottles of pumpkin spice body wash.

This works out with perfect cosmic confluence because my compulsively-guarded deepest desire is having the aroma of a high-fiber seasonal muffin being gnawed upon by a coquettish ingenue white girl from Connecticut named Bethany who at this very moment is taking in the vibrantly lovely autumn colors on her annual trip to the luxurious Sagamore of the equally luxurious Adirondacks with her “fates-brought-us-together” fiancee Cody who was once her high school stalker and after graduation she realized she has abandonment issues and he’s just that guy who has a huge problem saying “goodbye.”

Bethany, Cody … restraining orders expire but love blooms eternal. I love you guys.

For the record, I’ve despised pineapple on pizza long before the internet existed.