Bests & Worsts Reviews from Amazon

It's a well-rehearsed drill in our household - a jar can't be opened in the kitchen and I'll hear my wife calling up the stairs for me to come help. Usually it's a chance for me to remind her of what a stud-muffin I am; using my herculean strength I choke-hold my target and dominate it with my fierce (manly) grip. This scenario usually ends with a romcom-worthy smooch from my wife for being such a hero...either that or a "thanks babe" and we both go back to whatever we were doing. One day, I heard my name being called and I knew it was go-time. I put down the tree I had been felling with my bare hands and dashed into the kitchen ready to save the day once again. On this occasion I took the jar of Bertolli Organic Pasta Sauce in my vice-like grip, gave it a steely glare that said "prepare to shed some blood/tomato sauce", took a deep breath, and twisted. Nothing. Perplexed, I flexed my muscles (more for effect than anything else) and with the grunt of a South-African Rugby player, put everything I had into opening my soon-to-be-vanquished foe. Imagine my horror when my grip started to slip on the lid... I put the jar down, nonplussed. This was a first for me; two of the most important things in my life hung in the balance - my pride, and my dinner. I fumbled my way to one of our kitchen chairs, the full effect of an identity-crisis taking the strength out of my legs. Of course it was at this time that my wife's 75 year-old grandmother decided to potter into the kitchen. She stopped, looked from my dejected figure slumped in a corner to the demon-jar on the counter, and dashed with surprising speed to our kitchen junk draw (side note: I suspect the double knee-replacement surgeries she had last year were government-funded bionic experiments...). Her jaw set with the quiet determination that is a hallmark of the silent generation, she wrapped two of these openers around the jar of pasta sauce and with what seemed to be the smallest of efforts, decapitated her foe. The resulting "pop" brought a tidal wave of conflicting emotions down upon me - it simultaneously signified the end of my testosterone-fueled reign of the pantry, but also meant that dinner was saved. I almost removed a star from my rating in this review for the sheer heart-ache these jar openers caused me, but after six months with a life-coach and a steady regimen of anti-depressants and steroids, I feel courageous enough to admit that this five-star product, used effectively by a near-octogenarian, is better than I could ever hope to be. These jar openers have the power to bring great joy into a home, but also great destruction. Use them wisely. Of course if anyone asks...I loosened it for her.