Fortune(less) Cookies

Panda Express is divine. Orange chicken should be promoted to deity status, or at least given its own hour of worship on wednesdays. Why, you ask? Pure orange asian goodness. Sweet, tangy, crunchy, and juicy...the names of my gods. All served under a giant sign with a picture of a cute panda drinking from a straw to boot.
Just one problem. No, not the water cups that make my Mountain Dew look like piss. No, not the extra powerful soap in the men's room. It's the fortune cookies. Don't get me wrong, I love the cookies themselves, they're delicious. It's the insides.
Fortune cookies. Let's disassemble the term to better understand it.
Part 1: fortune
for·tune [fawr-chuhn] n.

6.	fate; lot; destiny: whatever my fortune may be.

7.	(initial capital letter) chance personified, commonly regarded as a mythical being distributing arbitrarily or capriciously the lots of life: Perhaps Fortune will smile on our venture.

2: cookie
cook·ie /ˈkʊki/ Pronunciation Key - Show Spelled Pronunciation[kook-ee] n.

1.	a small cake made from stiff, sweet dough rolled and sliced or dropped by spoonfuls on a large, flat pan (cookie sheet) and baked.

2.	Informal. dear; sweetheart (a term of address, usually connoting affection).

Ok. So we've deduced that it takes both parts to be a fortune cookie. We'll do this backwards to emphasize the point. It's a cookie. Sure, it's not a traditional round dude, but it's still sweet doughy stuff that gets baked. Hell, I don't know what it is, ask Asia. Now the fortune bit. A lot of the time, I can't complain. I'll get one that says "Your dreams will come true when you least expect them" and it'll be just fine. A bit vague, but hey, it's a little slip of paper enclosed within a delicious vessel of consumptionitude. I'm not asking for the next War and Peace. (Editor's Note: I personally hate that fortune, because now that I know my dreams aren't going to come true until I don't expect them, I'm always gonna be expecting them, contradicting their my dreams' arrival conditions.)
But what gets me is when they ship you a cookie that says "Your smile touches all around you" or something of that ilk. Touche, Panda, touche. How can I be mad that you stiffed me a fortune when you're so flattering? I just wanted to know what's in store for me. So Panda, it's your call. Fortunate the future.

This ends our discussion on Panda Express and the mighty empire of misnomers they shell out as after-meal snacks. Please come back again soon.