Call it a philosophy, call it a mantra, call it an excuse for irrational behavior at random intervals...what is boils down to is this:

Why waste your time on doing something halfway when you can do it all the way?

Case in point: "mild salsa." Why does this stuff even exist...?! Mild salsa is what -- tomatoes and onions? I mean honestly -- why bother? You may as well use ketchup. If you don't like spicy stuff, then don't buy salsa in the first place. However, if you're going to make something spicy, then by GOD make it spicy! Live it up! Reach for the real stuff! And if you burn your mouth...well, that's what milk is for. Or better yet, ice cream. Mmmm...

Huh. I'm not sure how I went from disseminating personal philosophy to dreamy thoughts of The Evil That Is Ben & Jerry's Half-Baked, but...there you have it.

PS: I've also been known to apply the above rationale to the value of variety in the field of sexual practices -- but it'll cost ya. ;)

I, too, used to wonder why there exists a need for mild salsa. My Dad would put big scoops of that mild Ortega crap on a chip... and I'd wonder why he bothered. And sometimes I still feel that way... if I can't smell it from about five feet away, it's probably not hot enough. But one day, I got put in my place.

A guy from work came over for a football game, and I broke out the big guns. You see, I like a good Hog's Ass or some Pain Is Good (Batch #114). Good stuff... gets you right here (points to jaw). And this kid was deep-scooping this stuff. And here I was, thinking I was eating salsa that would scare off Mr. Scoville. And then, without pausing for a drink of water, he declared my salsa to be 'wussy-shit' (which was fair, since I was bragging about it being 'packed with capsaicin power').

This is a kid that deep-scoops Dave's Insanity Salsa and Blair's Death Salsa. I sincerely believe that he has no tastebuds. But, like you said, I figured... why not?

Bad idea. I have no tolerance for "Heat Level 10". After eating one minimally scooped chip, I felt like I was going to die. I literally had difficulty breathing. I drank more milk than all the chicks at could produce in a year, and vowed never to try it again.

I think it would have killed my dad.

I think when eating something makes you short of breath, red in the face, and makes your mouth sore for about an hour and a half, it's kind of a sign not to eat it again. But, for the psychotic among us... I issue the following challenge:

Blair's 3am Reserve. OK, so it's 50 bucks for less than 3 ounces. But isn't it worth it for a hot sauce that the buyer must agree to release the manufacturer and retailer of the product from liability due to injury from ingesting the product after purchase?

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