It feels like an afront to good taste. Like a lackluster slap in the face. Maybe it's just the time of year, and I'm sick of winter or whatever, but I can't take it anymore. I need pico de gallo, made by someone I have seen with my own eyes, with tomatoes I have seen when they were whole tomatoes.
And until that day comes, there is a ban on salsa in my life. BANNED.
Oh, while we're on the subject, you know what else I hate? The fact that Merriam-Webster online is at m-w.com. I hate that too.