Open Letter to CLIF BAR

Dear Clif Bar,
A couple weeks ago, Kyle McNamee let me sample one of your "Spiced Pumpkin Pie" Clif bars. I was skeptical, as befits my nature (my great-uncle Anton was part skeptic), but after some friendly and then not so friendly cajoling, I sank my teeth into the lumpy brown mass. At first, the flavor was repulsive, like an old leather glove that had been soaked in pond water, but after a few more bites and a few more boxes (consumed in a matter of minutes), the leather glove flavor morphed into a kind of sugary-sweet fruit mush akin to Mana of the Gods. As you and your "people" probably know, we here at The Hawley Company live off of sugary-sweet mush from the months of October to August. In September, we feast upon local striper bass and rhubarb salad (locals refer to it as "love lettuce" a tradition that goes back thousands of centuries, to when dinosaurs and Native Americans lived in peace and harmony with each other). That is why I was hoping you would listen to reason and continue your "seasonal" Spiced Pumpkin Pie throughout the entire year. Sadly, I have discovered in recent days, that when deprived of Spiced Pumpkin Pie Clif Bar, my body begins to age rapidly. I am only 30, but as of this writing, my hair has turned white, liver spots have appeared on my skin, my fingernails have grown three feet, and I have been diagnosed with osteoporosis. Although I will be nothing but a skeleton covered in cobwebs by Friday, I implore you to make Spiced Pumpkin Pie a permanent offering in your stable of delectable foodstuffs. You could always replace Carrot Cake. Nobody eats that poop.
Yours Truly,
Ken Klatte