From my perspective, there is only one truly baffling thing about the mobile ice cream industry. It isn't wondering how on earth one pays the bills and affords drugs by selling $1 ice cream snacks from a 1983 ford model rapist. Nor would it be how driving all day long could possibly be profitable when gas is nigh unto 4 bucks a gallon. I am not even perplexed by the high pedophile to kindly-old-retired-grandpa as the local ice cream man ratio.
To me, the most enigmatic quality that the ice cream man possesses would be the apparently universal, innate ability to not be driven suicidal by the blaring tune, "It's a Small World After All." How can one be subjected to that invasive, unrelenting song for multiple hours on end, 7 days a week, and not end up choking someone to death on a nightly basis? Or for that matter, choking one's self to death? Or stabbing out one's eardrums with a leftover Popsicle stick? The latter which, I might add, would be wholly ineffective, due to the pervasive and ingraining nature of that wretched, nauseating tune.
Perhaps the answer lies in the completely rewarding nature of the job. I mean, American children are certainly not getting enough sweets at home. Thank heavens there is someone out there willing to deliver frozen fatty delights right to these poor, emaciated children's doors. Also, the ice cream man helps children exercise, by inducing them to sprint out the door, away from their Nintendos, all the way out to the street.
Lastly, the ice cream man brings global awareness. As the fat little child consumes his tasty treat, he is reminded that hey, it really is a small world after all. He doubly enjoys his frozen prize knowing that, as each delicious, sugary, lard-filled globule slides down his throat, he is truly blessed. There are certainly starving children in Africa, or Afghanistan who shall never enjoy the bountiful harvest offered by the ice cream man. It is then, that our little over-weight 9 year old vows to make a difference in the world...right after he finishes beating the boss.
Thank you, Mr. Ice Cream Man. Keep up the good work.
(I previously had a picture posted, which I subsequently deleted. I found that I lost all desire to read my own post when I looked at it.)