Angelina Poisons Her Babies With Cheetos

(photo credit: Splash News)

Way back in March of this year, Angelina and a few of her children were caught on camera with a bag of Cheetos, and then they were caught with bags of Cheetos again just this week.

This is news?  Apparently so when it is our earth-mother-goddess Angelina Jolie and her brood.

Cheetos, a cheesy processed snack that can be found on the same racks as potato and tortilla chips, are seemingly worth a finger-wagging when you are famous and should obviously have an undying devotion to proving your net worth through the purchase of beluga caviar as an afternoon snack rather than some pedestrian corn meal derivative.  This public lapse in taste has even called Angelina's style of motherhood into question with admonishments such as "Angelina – Cheetos are no babysitter", and "it looks like this mother of six is a bit lax when it comes to what kinds of snacks her kids consume" over the fact that they have been caught not once but twice indulging in the salty junk food.

That there are as many posts as there are online about the Jolie-Pitt-Cheetos pictures is not surprising, because every time either Angelina or Brad breathes anywhere outside one of their homes, there are paparazzi there to document it, but the insistence on mentioning oh-my-god-the-Cheetos for months and months on end amazes me.  Are they not human?  When you prick them, do they not bleed (if not blood, at least silicone)?  When they are hungry, do they not sometimes crave a salty snack?  I am sure that they have also been caught ingesting other such ghastly and proletarian items such as tap water, white bread, and - sweet jeebus, no! - the candies from the dreaded public five-cent bins, but nothing has proved quite so thrilling a sign of the debasement of their supposedly elevated palates as these orange-dusted Cheetos.

I am not going to hold my breath while waiting for poor Maddox, Shiloh, Zahara, and Pax's kidneys to shrivel and die under the onslaught of the terrible nitrites that Angelina is pushing upon their poor, defenseless bodies, because, and I mean this seriously, I lived for several years off little more than smooth peanut butter, sugar-frosted cornflakes, mashed potatoes as a child, and, yes, the occasional bag of Cheetos, and I have turned out, if not perfectly, fine.

I am sure that Cheetos is quite pleased with their brand being married to the beautiful Angelina and her it's-a-small-world crew, though, because the advertising has definitely worked on me.  If that bastion of American beauty, silver screen talent, and Hollywood glamor deems Cheetos acceptable, so can I.  Now, if you will excuse me, my fingers are not nearly orange enough.  Hello, 7-Eleven!