Round like a ball and yellow as a lemon, it's not Mickey Rourke's cirrhosis, but Pac-Man!
Locked in a lunatic asylum for many years, Pac-Man swallows many pills that give himb the nurses to test the effects of chemical substances on his body. Addicted to psychotropic he is fed since childhood, Pac-Man has now lost all reason. The spirit of Pac-Man is now locked in a madness whose hallucinations make him see ghosts all the colors in a labyrinthine nightmare world as it crashes every night screaming against the padded wall of his cell.
The fact that we welcome the return of pumpkin season just masks the fact that there are no seasons. We could probably ship pumpkins from all around the world to get our pumpkin fix year-round. But even then, it's only the third order of that list above. It's not quite at that next level pure simulacra shit.
Did I mention that there's no pumpkin in your pumpkin spice latte? That delicious sip of fall you just imbibed is actually a pure simulacrum, of that fourth order. Pumpkin spice doesn't conceal the fact that there are no longer seasons, pumpkin spice has no referent in reality, it exists for its own sake. The only thing "pumpkin spice" refers to is itself.
Seriously, who does that?
00:e0:11:22:33:44, if you were wondering. What a clever number.
Apparently you can only change this by jailbreaking them, which was an icepick we weren't exactly looking forward to trying on for size. Hooray.