I have chosen you, Berry Plastics, because you made the packaging that was the proxmiate cause of my annoyance, though you are certainly not alone in your guilt. I recently had occasion to purchase a novelty item from the movie "Pirates of the Caribbean: 2 Davy Jones' Locker". If you haven't seen the movie, you should, though I would caution you that there are no acts of piracy at all, and many attacks by Giant Squids, so if, like me, you are fond of pirates but not ethused by Giant Squids, you may rather take a pass and enjoy "Captain Blood" or "The Black Swan" which are enduring pirate classics that have Giant Squids not at all. I brought the package home, like you do, and tried to open it. This would seem to be a fairly straightforward proposition; it was encased in a somewhat stiff plastic bubble with a seam around the outside. I thought to myself, "I'll just pull apart the two halves, and it will separate at the seams." I thought erroneously.
Let me depart for a moment to explain something; I am moderately strong. I think I used to be quite strong, but time and a sedentary lifestyle have sapped my physique - which was not, I confess, ever particularly Herculean. Never the less, I can still today successfully engage in such feats of strength as, variously - and in no particular order - lifting a large beam of wood, crushing a large tin can in one hand, dragging a refrigerator unaided by man or contraption, or carrying a large glass table-top (and do you ever wonder why glass is so heavy? It is, isn't it? More than you'd think, to look at it. The glass overlook they're making over part of the Grand Canyon must be a real behemoth. I couldn't lift that!) So, we can see, while I am not a superhero by any stretch - at least, not of the super-strong variety - neither am I particularly weak. I would say that on the global scale, I'm probably fairly well stronger than average.
And yet, when I pulled at the two halves of this package; and I assure you, I pulled heroically, with the sort of gritted-teethed strain that clearly communicates to all and sundry that might be present that a massive effort is under way - and yet the package didn't budge, not even in the slightest. Chagrined, I recalled that mankind is a tool-using animal (even more sophisticated than those spear-wielding chimps!) and figured I could find the appropriate tool for the job. Some sort of dual robot arm might have been able to pull that package apart, I reasoned - but I do not currently happen to have two robots arms in my apartment. A cutting implement would probably be able to make a satisfactory hole in the plastic, so I fetched a sturdy knife that I've had since my Army days - the kind of elegant but strong knife that any person would be proud to own. I paid a pretty penny for it back in the day, but it's been well worth it, as it's nearly indestructible and takes a blade that's sharper than Oscar Wilde's wit.
Knife in hand, I attempted to make a cut in the package. I was unsuccessful. I hacked, I swung, I sawed, I poked - nothing. At one point the vigor of my strokes was such that I realized that both myself and my cat (who also sends her regards) were in danger - a wild swing, which while utterly non-threatening to your package - would be more than capable of severing something I or my cat are likely to need in its un-severed state, like you do. I adopted another tactic - which was to brace the package between two stacks of books, and try and pierce the space in the middle, between the two stacks. This tactic finally worked, and with significant effort, I was able to saw an opening in the package which, with great effort, was sufficient to extract the item.
But this isn't why I'm writing. Actually, there was a plastic wrapping around a print of a statue of Venus that I purchased at the Getty Museum. (It's astonishing, you should go.) It's a lovely print of a statue that embodies many of the nicest things about women, the charms of which are too numerous for me to recount here, but include (but aren't limited to) grace, beauty, sex-appeal, elegance, poise and femininity. The plastic wrapping around this print was so sturdy that I had to resort to a similar method as that mentioned previously. The plastic resisted piercing and then gave way suddenly - the knife-point pierced right through the back of the matting, and gave Venus a tiny but visible second belly-button. I was extremely perturbed at this - and am quite sure that Venus is going to put some sort of wicked hex on someone for this. As the state of my own love life is risible at best, I am anxious to pass this curse on to you, perpetrators of the dangerously impenetrable plastic wrapping. Consider yourselves hexed, until such time as you make wrapping for products that can be opened by a normal person without absured effort, and danger to Greek goddesses and household pets.
Warmest Regards, etc;
Sgt, U.S. (RET)