Rate the Hate the Third

(The I only cooked dinner once this whole week edition)
Hey mom, what's this?

Um, popcorn.

No it's not; this is popcorn.
Oh, sweet children, come sit on your momma's knee and let her tell you a story....

A long time ago, back in the Stone Age, when your mother was young and Michael Jackson was black (*gasp*), the world was a very different place. TV was, like, four channels (one child passes out). We all had overdeveloped Extensor Digitorium muscles from changing the channels and using the phone by turning a dial. There was this noise in the phone if someone you were calling was on the line already, and it sounded like Armageddon. Computers were boxes the size of Topeka in rooms that your grandfather worked in. A few people got to have computers at home, like your grandfather, and they weighed more than the 3 of you combined, but had a handle and so they felt convenient, and if you wanted to play chess you had to write the code in DOS (which I could, because I rocked), and if you looked at the screen for long enough the whole world turned black with hot green dots. People had as many remote controls as they had children with hands, and there were NO MICROWAVES.

Yes, dears, people actually took dried up bits of corn and put them into pots with scorching hot oil in the bottom and waited. And then the kernels popped, higher and higher. If you were smart lazy, you just bought Jiffy Pop, but most people did it this way. One day someone invented an air-popper, and then later came the glorious microwave. All so you could have a snack, dears. The world loves you.

But, mawwwwm, what did it taste like?

Wanna know? I'll make you some right now.

(pop poppedy pop)

The question is: Do you think they ate it? Or, to make it easier, on a scale of 1-10, how much do you think they hated it? 1 being Best. Snack. Ever. and 10 being We're Called Child Services and the Food Network to tell on you, you horrible, horrible woman.