Blackberry Hell

I watched a series of shows on the History Channel or the Planet Green channel or whatever channel–to be honest I don’t remember. The first show discussed whether Jesus existed; the second show told the tale of a very young, impish Jesus who threw a playmate off the roof of his house only to raise that playmate from the dead so that the kid could tell Jesus’ parents and his own parents, who were a tad miffed at the Messiah, that it was an accident; and the third  discussed who was responsible for framing Jesus. My first guess was the resurrected kid who got tossed from the roof, but believe it or not, he wasn’t even a suspect.

Anyway, none of these shows caught my interest quite like the commercial that kept airing in between the shows’ segments: The Sweet Dreams Blackberry Plant that you can grow at home. I know you are thinking that the sociopath Jesus would be more captivating than blackberries but sorry to say, He wasn’t.  I have heard the Jesus stories before (although my 16 years of catholic school left out the one about the homicidal Jesus), but nowhere before had I seen blackberries like the ones that graced my TV screen.

According to the commercial, if I bought one of these plants, I could have a lifetime supply of blackberries. Yes, one miracle plant would yield four pints of blackberries a day and 20 bowls a week.  And these were not just regular blackberries. No, they were giant blackberries.My husband, who was watching the Jesus shows with me, saw the commercial and said,

“You love blackberries. Maybe this would be good for you.”

As I watched the commercial, I became a bit frightened. This was a lot of fruit from one plant. I know that blackberries are high in antioxidants, but how many of these fine berries can one eat? In the commercial, they show a family of four sitting around the table eating blackberry jam, blackberry pie, and cereal garnished with blackberries plus there is some type of blackberry syrup sitting atop the table and about 5 full bowls of the fruit just for snacking.  This family of four was going to eat all these blackberries and then tomorrow they would have to begin again. Their teeth and tongues must permanently exhibit a purplish hue and that is the least of their problems. There doesn’t seem to be a way to turn off the miracle plant’s harvesting spigot. These people are trapped in blackberry hell.

Hey, I like blackberries, but at present, we are a family of two since my daughter moved out. I would go crazy with this plant. What if I forgot to harvest one day? Would I have to eat eight pints of blackberries the next day?  Where would I store all this fruit?  I guess this plant would work if I baked pies or made jam but I do neither, and the only syrup I get is made by Mrs. Butterworth.

I said to my husband, “Can you imagine if I bought this plant? Even if I discovered a talent for baking pies or making my own preserves, we would have millions of berries left over. They would take over the house until one day we would drown in them.  Rescuers would have to force open the doors because blackberries would be jammed up against them. They would have to dig beneath the purple goo to find us.  We would be blackberry hoarders.”

Just then I heard the TV announcer say that if I ordered one blackberry plant, he would send me a second one free.  He would double my order so I can get twice as many blackberries to enjoy! And if I ordered within the next seven minutes, a third one would be sent as well! This was all for $10. This was the perfect ad for the Jesus shows; this miracle plant just kept multiplying.

“What? Three times as many blackberries? We would have to eat 60 bowls of blackberries a week? Who can eat that many? The Duggar family with their 21 kids couldn’t scarf down this many berries.  This would be so scary!”

At this time, I noticed my husband had a worried look on his face. “You know, you don’t have to order the plant. It was just a thought because you like fresh berries, but if it’s going to be this big a trauma for you, just don’t order it.”

Hm. And just like that the panic passed. I didn’t have to order this plant.  I could still buy blackberries at the market. Sure, I might pay double the price but that extra money would be well worth my peace of mind knowing I don’t have to face the task of learning to make blackberry preserves or blackberry pie. That commercial came on five more times during the Jesus shows.  I guess if they are paying for that much TV advertising, the miracle plants must sell or maybe they just sell during Jesus shows because they are miracle plants. Either way, that plant is not going to be in my house.  I can’t take the pressure.

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11 thoughts on “Blackberry Hell”

  1. After reading this, all I could hear is Depeche Mode’s song “Personal Jesus” except I hear them singing “Homicidal Jesus” instead. I’m also worried that blackberry plant is a race of mutant blackberries looking to take over the earth.

  2. When I first read your title, I thought this was going to be about little hand-held mobile devices!

  3. It’s also possible that the promoter of this blackberry plant had invested heavily in stock for all of the major commercial brands of toothpaste.

  4. I may have mentioned from time to time that I make jam . . . not that I’d ever pressure you into buying one of these plants to make blackberry jam, homemade jam, made from blackberries. I ask you, what would Jesus do? 😉

    1. I thought about you with this plant Deb. I am here to say that no one makes better jam than Deb Martin Webster. It is unbelievable and she makes my cupboards sing when they see it coming!

  5. Take Mike’s advice. I wouldn’t mind planting one in my back yard. With all the grandchildren I have, we’d be set for life. We could use it for every meal. Blackberry cereal, blackberry jam, jelly, preserves, bread, yogurt, chicken, rice, beans, oatmeal – we could even use the dye to color our toilet paper!

  6. You should buy these plants and give them away to your “friends”! Then you can tell them if they have any blackberries left over, you would take a few. HeHe!

    1. No thanks. I will go to the Amish man at the farm market and buy his. A little at a time. My dogs would probably find the plant and I would have blackberry juice stained on everything.

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