And then suddenly, & sudden-like, for reasons that lurk mysteriously, I fell deeply in love with Aunt Jemima on the pancake syrup bottle. There was a futility to it all. Aunt Jemima was shapely & full of imitation maple syrup and I loved her for it. She sweetened my pancakes. She bled from the head, making me not glad she's dead. My pancakes are embedded with blue-berried dots and nobody gives a harlot's-hello. I love you Aunt Jemima, this I know, from your non-reproductive *** glands to your classy, glassy nose.