For the past month, my local grocery store has been terrorized by Hobgoblin Grapes.
I’m talking shelf upon shelf of otherwise perfect, delectable grapes wrapped in a horrifying package featuring a freakish hobgoblin mascot with hyperrealistic, arthritic hands and teeth that look like they could chew through a boot.
Once a week I’ll steel myself to enter the produce aisle. And, once a week, I’ll inexplicably leave with a bag of God’s marbles plastered with the devil incarnate, laughing at me as if to say, “back for more, are we?”
I know what you’re thinking: if you don’t like the grapes, just buy a different brand! You are living in a prison of your own making, woman!
Ah, if only it were that simple.
You see friends, Hobgoblin Grapes are far and away the best grapes money can buy.
These are the biggest motherf*cking grapes you have ever seen in your entire life.
They’re greener than a 2003 Volkswagen Bug, crunchier than a fresh-picked Fuji, with enough zing to remind you of your own mortality — not in a sad way, but a sexy, “it’s the end of the world, babe” kind of way.
They are, in so many words, superior in every way to any other grape on the shelf.
So, why would anyone besmirch their product with what I assume is the last face you see before you are dragged straight to hell?
According to one produce blog, it’s because Dulcich farms’ seasonal hobgoblin packaging “draws attention to the displays and the quality of the xlg-to-jumbo grapes inside.”
Touché, Dulcich.
Point is, sometimes it doesn’t matter if your marketing is the stuff of nightmares. If your product is good enough, it’ll speak for itself.