Close your eyes and imagine it's 2008. You've just awoken out of what otherwise would've been good night's sleep had you not heard a moderately loud roar that you soon realize came from your stomach. You weigh out your options--you could either fall back asleep and risk being woken up by hunger pangs a second time, or--you can give your body what it wants and head into the kitchen for a midnight snack. You go with the latter option, as would anyone in the right mind.

As you approach the pantry still half asleep, you know good and well that in combination with the fact that you aren't at a level of coherence where you'd be fully conscious of the snack you're choosing, and the fact that you refuse to turn on a light due to your fear of losing that default tiredness you get from waking up in the middle of the night, chances are, you're not gonna have good enough judgement to choose the snack that you're inherently craving. However, you hope that if there is in fact a God, he'll make sure that your futile attempt to blindly choose a good snack is rewarded with an excellent one. "After all, it's the effort that counts," you say to yourself quietly. You grab the first thing you see and head back to bed.

You couldn't be more delighted to discover that you grabbed a pack of Oreo Cakesters. You're so excited in fact, that you decide to wake up your spouse and brag about your midnight snack. "Can I have one of them?" they ask, as if they really believe you'd give up one of the Oreo Cakesters after the ordeal you just went though to bring them to the bedroom. You deny their request, much to their chagrin. You don't feel bad though, it was a stupid thing for them to ask. It's not like Cakesters come in packs of six like regular Oreos. Cakesters are a delicacy, and are appropriately packaged in small quantities. You finish the pack, then fall back asleep, peacefully. Life is good.

Fast-forward twelve years. It's 2020. Your life sucks. You're divorced, your kids hate you, and you just found out that your brother sold your car for drug money. You try as hard as you can to identify what all went wrong. Things were so good back in 2008, in fact, that was the last good year. What change could've taken place in the universe that set into motion every terrible event that had happened over the past few years. You admit to yourself that the only thing that would take your mind off of how miserable you've become is a nice pack of Oreo Cakesters. Suddenly, it dawns on you. You haven't seen Oreo Cakesters on any supermarket shelves in years.

Ladies and gentlemen, we all know it's true. The world hasn't been the same since Oreo Cakesters disappeared. We took those little cakes for granted, like absolute fools. We've all grown so much since they left us. We've made new friends and lost just as many. We've set new goals and developed new opinions and ideologies. We know more about the world now than we did back when we still had Oreo Cakesters at our disposal, but the one lesson learned that is more relevant than all the rest is that life was better with Oreo Cakesters. If you disagree, so be it. But don't penalize the rest of us. Adopt a libertarian perspective just this once, and sign the petition that will serve as the first step to reclaiming the snack that will restore contentment and jubilation for all humanity.