Flashback Friday: Klondike Bars

So big and thick, no room for a stick.

Oh, those were far more innocent times when we could sing that tune and not feel like we were offering ourselves up to some horrible fate just for the crunchy-coated goodness of a Klondike Bar.

Actually, who am I kidding? I always giggled at the Klondike Bar theme, my filthy little mind titillated beyond comprehension by the subliminal meanings behind it all.

Heh. Titillated.

See? Filthy, filthy Loba.

Honestly, though, there was a time when I would have done quite a bit for one of these tasty treats (nothing too filthy, please; I was just a kid when these commercials first aired!). Not so much anymore. Ice cream just doesn’t excite me the way it did when I was a wee pup. Now if Klondike were to come out with a rum-based concoction guaranteed to knock me off-kilter, then we might have a different story to tell right now.

For now, though, here’s a Klondike Bar commercial perfectly suited to my literary tastes…and strangely and sadly relevant in light of Gary Coleman’s recent passing. It’s quite a bizarre commercial, actually.

Oh, and don’t worry…I don’t expect any of you to tell me what you’d do for a Klondike Bar. I already suspect I know what some of you would do…naughty little denizens…