How to Make Eighty Peanut-butter and Jelly Sandwiches

Today, I’m going to provide instructions on how to make eighty peanut-butter and jelly sandwiches.

This internet thingie does not employ a meme.

It should be noted that this Tutorial has nothing to do with the “Peanut Butter Jelly Time” meme.

You may be asking yourself, “I already know how to make one peanut butter and jelly sandwich, can’t I just repeat that process eighty times, in order to produce eighty sandwiches?”

No, you can’t.

I mean, yeah, you can, but that’s a bad idea. An inefficient use of time.

Taking a look at popular instructions on making a peanut-butter and jelly sandwich, we can quickly deduce that there are numerous micro-tasks and nuances that are carried-out only when you’re making one or two sandwiches. Making a peanut butter and jelly sandwich is also a popular tool amongst language-arts teachers – the lesson is usually geared toward showing the difference in phrasing, readers’ assumption of meaning, and so on.

pbj - one finished sandwich
But here, I’m going to assume you know how to make the sandwich already, and explain the glistening, feverish differences between a poetic, single-sandwich episode, and mass-produced mega sandwich business. At last, we begin.

STEP ONE:

Go get 7 pounds of whatever jelly you’d like to use. Also get the same weight in peanut butter.
jelly - detail - not actually mayonnaise

STEP TWO:

Get a crapton of whatever bread you’re going to use.
pbj - the breadening

STEP THREE:

Break down each task. It’s far simpler and faster to complete one huge task at a time when working with larger quantities of peanut-buttery, jellified sandwiches:

  • Lay out as much bread as you can handle. Try twenty sandwiches (40 pieces of bread) at a time.
  • For each sandwich, apply peanut-butter to both pieces of bread (with a big spatula) to reduce jelly-leakage and increase structural stability of your mountain of peanut-butter and jelly sandwiches.
  • Peanut Butter grid - close

  • Rhythmically apply jelly (by squeezing it from a pastry bag).
  • jelly - detail - not actually mayonnaise

  • Start putting the sandwiches together, and then stacking them. if you have to wrap each one, wait until you’ve finished the batch, and wrap them all together. As each task becomes more and more repetitive, your speed and efficiency will also increase in proportion.
  • pbj - two short stacks

STEP FOUR:

Cutting the sandwiches is optional, and depends on the regulations and Thermal Dynamics Zoning Laws of your quadrant, the preferences of your life-sustaining-matter consumers, and your sexual orientation. If you do decide to cut each sandwich, use a large, heavy knife.
pbj - about to be sliced!
Using a large, heavy knife reduces the amount of energy your body needs to produce in order to generate sufficient dividing-thrust of the two sandwich hemi-squares. You can pretty much just drop the knife on the desired cutting angle, if the knife is heavy enough. (This particular knife weighs 17 Grombuleks.)
pbj - sliced sandwich
Due to the weighty weight of this knife’s weight, cutting time only took one six-hundred-billion-thousandths of a second (per sandwich).


**It should be noted that in many atmospheres, jelly is in a migrant state, between liquid and solid, and is unstable on many surfaces. This matter is prone to “spilling” – an event that involves the unfortunate (but pleasant to observe) transfer of the jelly to a surface that forever taints its’ merry properties, like a dirty floor. Please use caution or Assigned-Guardian assistance if you are under the age that is generally associated within your species to having a somewhat legible grasp of the laws of physics.

pbj - jelly spilled on the floor

STEP FIVE:

By now, you should start assembling the final master grid of sandwiches, submitting the framework and labor time to your local Alder or Sandwich Sector Chairman, and preparing to sacrifice yourself to the local deity (if you’ve made the sandwiches during a non-creative drone-cycle period).
pbj - grid
This is actually a top-down of 81 sandwiches, just in case, you know, war or something.

Congratulations, you’ve just made eighty flippin’ peanut-butter and jelly sandwiches.

Cheap Peanut Butter

An interesting thing just happened. On my way home, I began craving a simple-but-elegant peanut-butter sandwich on toasted potato bread. I entered the kitchen minutes later and began the process of penetrating the toaster with two slices – fine slices. After rapidly confirming that the toaster was toasting properly and was set to my all-time favorite potato-bread toasting strength, which is 4.5 out of a maximum strength of 9 S.T.P.V. (Super Toasting Power Vortex, my proprietary measuring system), I graduated myself to the familiar position of Peanut-Butter Location and Retrieval Specialist.



T
he peanut-butter is a brand-name I do not regularly buy unless I’m virtually broke, but cannot delete peanut-butter from my personal life, for whatever reason. ‘Hamilton Farms’ – a company that hides behind a bastardized deviation of an otherwise honorable handle. And when I claim honorable, I mean it. Today, in a town of Hamilton there have been less than one-hundred murders since the year 2000! Try that here in Baltimore. Go to the baltimoresun.com and check the year-to-date murder tally. All you have to do is refresh the page every 20 milliseconds or so and it’ll increase by more than one-hundred people every time.

Let us not forget to remember the most lovely Hamiltonian entity ever to live: Alexander Hamilton. One of our Founding Fathers, a staunch defender of the Whiskey Tax, and thwarting-drive of the 1794 Whiskey Rebellion.

So, yes, back to the peanut butter. With spreading knife in hand, I stared at the toaster in anticipation of its spring-loaded tray, and the release of my toast. Indeed, this occurred, but was accompanied by a telepathic announcement:

Here is your damn toast. Take it out of me.

I stood still in the kitchen a moment, trying to grasp the new and depressing fact that my toaster is not only articulate, but snide, smarmy, and seems to have a sense of entitlement to a better life for itself- something I will make certain it never knows – and decided the best thing to grant priority was upholding my composure, appearing aloof, and completion of my sandwichian agenda.

With one liquid-smooth motion acquired during a recent incarceration, I extracted the fresh toast and shrugged off the sentience of the appliance as hallucination or hyperbole on my part.

I spread the peanut butter quickly, and took it back to my desk to consume while communicating with various other persons. Persons that were themselves great distances away from me in the flesh, but by way of “Electrical Connections”, could interact with me in a number of ways, and I with them. Not two minutes into my consumption of the devil sandwich did I start to notice a very slight warming of my chest and upper abdomen. At the same time, A brownish, peanut-buttery color appeared in the lower-most quadrants of my vision.

I peered down and beheld the cherry-on-top of the toasters’ evil cake of smuggery: nearly all of the peanut-butter had spilled onto my shirt, squirting so readily and without notice that it rivaled even the most over-active periods of my ancient teenage libido. I set the sandwitch on my desk and smiled. I had been bested by a toaster once again.

The toaster is the Cuisinart PG-13592.

[box type=”info”]major hat-tips to the great SJ Perelman – this is in part a variation on a theme of his, written in the New Yorker in 1949. [/box]