May 1, 2012

DFWAfter re-reading David Foster Wallace’s “A Supposedly Fun Thing I’ll Never Do Again” in preparation for this article – well, actually, finished reading after a long hiatus – I’ve come to the the conclusion that of all his eccentricities – the footnotes, his dictionary obsession, the stupid bandana, his memorization of shark fatalities – by far his weirdest quirk was his preference for Mr. Pibb over Dr Pepper:

And now as I’m getting ready to go down to lunch I’m mentally drafting a really mordant footnote on my single biggest peeve about the Nadir: soda-pop is not free, not even at dinner: you have to order a Mr. Pibb from the 5☆CR.’s maddeningly E.S.L.-hampered cocktail waitress just like it was a fucking Slippery Nipple, and then you have to sign for it right there at the table, and they charge — and they don’t even have Mr. Pibb; they foist Dr Pepper on you with a maddeningly unapologetic shrug when any fool knows Dr Pepper is no substitute for Mr. Pibb, and it’s an absolute goddamned travery, or at any rate extremely dissatisfying indeed.89

Come on dude. Everyone knows Mr. Pibb is a cheap knock off of Dr Pepper. That’s like preferring whatever the generic Wal-Mart brand of cola is called (Sam’s Choice?) over the Big Three (Coca-Cola, Pepsi, and RC Cola). Not to say that Mr. Pibb and Wal-Mart Cola don’t have their appeal, but claiming they’re equal to or even superior to the real thing is madness.