Max Myszkowski / Daily Nexus

Straight up: flavored cream cheese can fuck all the way off. Simply put, we should all have a personal vendetta against this creamy, bullshit concoction designed to ruin the pristine delicacy that is an egg bagel. 

It’s like the goddamn Yoplait yogurt with the thick chunks of fruit inside; flavored cream cheese is a disappointment to its parents, to Satan and to whatever organization has hired it to spy on us. If I truly wanted to add a little something more to my bagel treat, which I often do, I would simply add the glam my goddamn self. 

Trust me on this one; if you want your bagel to have the it factor, you can slap it on. Throw a damn tomato slice on there or give it a lil’ touch of honey and cinnamon yourself — you’re gonna be like a chef up in this bitch instead of that dude, who spent more on a product that he can use on fewer bagels. I don’t need to spend two extra dollars just to limit my bagel options with flavored cream cheese. Let’s be realistic here, who the fuck wants strawberry cream cheese on a jalapeño bagel?

At some point, we as civilized human beings need to draw the line. Tainting beautiful, natural cream cheese with brown sugar and cinnamon or Sriracha so that it sells better? Hard no. That would be like the food equivalent of telling a bro he needs to lift to get the ladies (and maybe lads, who am I to judge) and frankly I am not here for it. 

Natural cream cheese never hurt us, so pray tell me why do we exist in a world where we must change who and what cream cheese is as a dairy product in order for it to be more palatable to the unrefined mouths of the reckless fools buying blueberry cream cheese? 

C’mon, I.V. — and ahem, Bagel Cafe — I know we, as a caring, wholesome community, can take a stand against this awful, beastial creation and return to our roots of unadultered, plain-as-fuck cream cheese. My cheese is my choice, so keep your soiled schmear to yourself, or better yet, throw it directly into the trash and live life unburdened by this factory-flavored, bagel-limiting bullshit.

Jenny De La Cuadra hasn’t written in years but feels so goddamn passionate about this subject that she decided to make a statement finally.