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Friday, February 27, 2004


Some Say the World Will End in Aquafina, Some Say Ice

Last Night's Episode of The Apprentice had the victims of the world's longest job interview hawking Donald Trump's newest venture, a self-branded bottled water called "Trump Ice." There's nothing really remarkable about the product itself; after all, overpriced water in a bottle is overpriced water in a bottle, despite Trump's usual, hyperbolic flimflam about it being the most delicious, wonderful, cancer-eradicating beverage of them all.

Nothing remarkable, that is, until you first see the Trump Ice label that adorns each bottle. Other water labels evoke mountain streams, icebergs, comfort.

Not Trump Ice.

The label features Trump's unmistakable mug plastered next to the water's pedestrian logo. But its background appears to be a lake of fire in the deepest bolgia of the Inferno itself. The Donald's beady eyes burn into the helpless soul of the thirsty consumer, as a corona of hellflame licks the edges of the world's most celebrated comb-over. Drink this, say the eyes, or sail in desiccated agony on a stream of magma as the blaze of the Trump Empire melts your internal organs into primordial soup. Drink Trump.

Poland Spring is doom
, insist the eyes, and Evian is nothing but the douche of Beezlebub. And don't even get me started on Deer Park.

Only swallowing my refreshing Trump load can quench the pyre of eternal thirst.

The hell-label commands, and we will obey. We'll drink Trump Ice, drop a grand at the Taj Mahal, maybe even cuddle up with our dog-eared copy of Trump: The Art of the Deal.

And everything will be fine again.

About this site

This is the internet home of Mark Lisanti, a Los Angeles writer sometimes known as Bunsen. He is the founding editor of Defamer, a weblog about Hollywood, where he now serves in the nebulous capacity of "editor-at-large."
If You Like Bunsen, Then You'll Love Bunsen