Nam egestas lorem ex, sit amet commodo tortor faucibus a. Suspendisse commodo, turpis a dapibus fermentum, turpis ipsum rhoncus massa, sed commodo nisi lectus id ipsum. Sed nec elit vehicula, aliquam neque euismod, porttitor ex. Nam consequat iaculis maximus. Suspendisse potenti. In rutrum justo et diam egestas luctus. Mauris eu neque eget odio suscipit eleifend. Sed imperdiet ante quis felis tempor hendrerit. Curabitur eget fermentum ipsum. Sed efficitur eget velit eu vulputate. Duis tincidunt quam in erat dignissim consequat. Praesent tempus leo eu nisl fringilla interdum. Maecenas rutrum libero eget lacus bibendum tristique. Curabitur at felis lobortis, mollis ante ut, tempus elit. Morbi justo nisi, posuere sed augue id, iaculis tincidunt mi. Pellentesque sed dolor sed dui congue tempus a et felis.
I can’t argue for the virtues of the Flamin’ Hot Cheetos: None exist. They’re amoral and fundamentally neutral, no more capable of assuaging my grief than the empty husk of “thoughts and prayers.” But not everything requires meaning — not everything needs to be something else. When I tuck away a bag of Flamin’ Hot Cheetos, I do it because I like them, because they’re nothing more than what they reveal themselves to be. That’s enough.