Why do conspiracy theorists and paranormal investigators spend so much of their valuable time unearthing credulity-straining trivia about alien visitations, the Bermuda Triangle and Bigfoot when there are other, far more profound mysteries that require immediate elucidation?
I refer, of course, to the puzzling abduction of both fresh and frozen varieties of grapefruit juice from supermarket shelves across the United States and beyond.
Probe the chilly depths any store's refrigerated drinks section in search of Grapefruit Juice and you will return empty-handed. At best you may discover a dented carton of the so-called "ruby" grapefruit juice, but that is too much like settling for a glass of anemic blood-orange product, which isn't the same thing at all.
Perhaps there is a crashed vending machine in Roswell that dispenses small packets of grapefruit juice concentrate; perhaps deep in the dark Himalayan wilderness a satisfied Yeti sits sipping grapefruit juice through a yak-horn straw; in the bright fluorescent glow of our modern supermarket, however, grapefruit juice is only notable by its absence. The fresh-squeezed truth is out there somewhere, no doubt, hiding behind a cantaloupe.
