Coke

The bomb of heaven, singing

For about a year in my early twenties, every Sunday night I ate a cheese pizza, watched two hours of television, and drank two cans of Coca-Cola—always cans, never bottles, because canned Coke is Coke’s ideal form: properly chilled, no exposure to light, no problems with syrup ratios. It’s the Coca-Cola experience as the manufacturer intended, I often t…