Lileks: It's ketchup that's out of this world

Heinz is introducing Martian Ketchup. It is not made on Mars.

Yet. But it's made from tomatoes grown in a "redhouse" designed to simulate conditions on Mars. I have to admit I was surprised: I follow space news, and get Twitter updates from the robots that explore our red neighbor, but I was unaware that plans for colonization had reached the "condiment" stage.

Prediction: The Martian Ketchup bottle will still say, "This ketchup was processed in a facility that may have contained tree nuts." It's Mars! How do you have tree nuts? "Well, we're just being careful."

If you're wondering whether this brings the number of ketchups to two — Mars, and Earth — well, you haven't been paying attention. Heinz makes a variety called Simply, which I've never tried. "Simply" in this case means "no artificial sweeteners," which just serves to make you wonder what's in the regular stuff.

There's Heinz No Sugar Added. It's aimed at those guys who face themselves in the mirror, take a handful of their jiggly middle and say, "I gotta cut down on the ketchup."

There is Heinz No Salt Added, which means it has salt. If the label said Heinz No Plutonium Added, you'd think, well, it has some plutonium; let's check the nutritional label to see if I'm exceeding the daily recommended amount. Nope! We're good to glow.

At this point you're prepared for Heinz No Tomatoes Added Ketchup, and you get a bottle of thick water.

Anyway, I predict: In 40 years there will be a steady commercial trade between Mars and Earth, and ketchup will dominate. For all we know, Martian ketchup will turn out to be ineffably delicious, the most sought after condiment in the solar system.

At first it will be served at four-star restaurants, where chefs will insist — nay, demand — that you put it all over your filet mignon. Then it will appear at Lunds and Byerlys, and there will be someone on site to help you take out a loan. Four years later, it's at Cub. Five years later, you can buy it by the 32-gallon drum at Costco, and domestic ketchup production collapses.

Eventually Mars realizes they have us where they want us, and they cut off shipment to secure favorable terms in an unrelated political dispute. Panic, hoarding, ketchup lines. Four-year-old fast-food packets now used as currency in the informal economy. A national crash program to develop alternative condiments consumes billions, but fails to produce a palatable result.

Then someone discovers a massive shale deposit of catsup, which can be refined into ketchup by changing some consonants and one vowel. Problem solved; Martian economy collapses.