Mr. Softee has died. I don't know how widespread the Mr. Softee empire is, but I know here in Jersey it's an institution. Nothing says summer like the tootling of the Mr. Softee jingle playing over the trucks' loudspeaker, drawing young kids from hither and yon to run after it, Pied-Piper-like, begging it to stop. Even now, even though I never go out to chase the truck, I always get a smile on my face when I hear the jingle in the distance, getting louder and louder as it approaches my part of the neighborhood on its appointed rounds. Makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.
You've given much joy to many children over the years, Mr. Softee; I'm sure, therefore, that you're chilling in the big freezer in the sky and not melting in the August afternoon down below.
(Via Gawker)
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