WAURIKA — Some time back, I wrote a column that discussed one of the irritating phenomena of 21st century living.

The topic was modern packaging. Specifically, I related the embarrassing and physically painful experience of trying to remove new flashlight batteries from a plastic package that was so “entry-retardant” it sent me into “wrap rage.”

While describing the literal tooth-and-nail struggle of trying to open the battery package, I may have embellished a little, which I know surprises longtime readers. Still, whoever designed that gol’danged plastic encasement should be sent to Gitmo.

What is it with modern packaging that you need a master’s degree in engineering, some wire cutters and a blowtorch so you can listen to a new CD? It’s bad enough a CDs’ outer wrapping is so impervious that companies sell a special gadget with a retractable blade just to slice open the cellophane. But once you’ve cut through the shrink wrap, two other security checkpoints must be cleared to get to the music.

One is that funky piece of metallic tape that even a Ginsu knife can’t cut. The other is that insidious strip of tape along the top edge of the case, which employs the same space age glue the legendary betrayed wife used to punish her cheatin’ husband!

Not only is it impossible to remove that tape in one piece (with a minimum of fingernail breakage), once the tape’s ripped off it leaves a gunky residue that forces you to buy the super-size bottle of Goo Gone. Then you spend 45 minutes cleaning the case, so it doesn’t pick up every piece of lint in the house or get stuck to neighboring CDs in your music collection.

I suspect the manufacturers of CD cases and Goo Gone have entered into some type of illegal packaging cabal, but I haven’t been able to prove it, yet.

According to Consumer Reports, it took a typical adult eight minutes and 27 seconds to unwrap a Bratz Sisterz doll because of all the packaging wires, rubber bands, tape and plastic tie-downs. One poor schmo needed nine minutes and 22 seconds just to open a package in which a digital cordless phone was entombed.

I recently tried to open a package of sliced turkey by following the instructions on the corner of the package, which read: “Easy Opening. Tear Here.” Mistakenly thinking I had average arm strength and an IQ above a chicken leg, I tore. And I twisted. And I yanked. And I pulled. And I shouted words that would have made my mom wash my mouth with lye soap!

Finally, I got a pair of kitchen scissors, and while cutting open the bag, I wondered who was more worthy of pity — the turkey sealed inside the package or the turkey outside the package?

And what’s the deal with cat litter bags? Kitty litter must be the most precious substance on the planet, because they package it in such a confounding way that you might as well just send Snookums outside and let her do her business au natural.

The tops of many cat litter bags are sewn shut. In the instructions, the manufacturer mocks you by indicating all you need to do is pull one of the loose ends of string across the top of the bag and the stitching will miraculously unravel and easily pop open.

HOG WASH! You know as well as I do that 99.999 percent of the time the loose string breaks the second you tug on it! Ultimately, you use a machete to hack open the bag.

I’ve noticed some enlightened cat litter baggists have stopped using the sewing method to seal their sacks. Instead, they tout their new “Easy Opening” bags, which are folded over and sealed with glue.

However, the adhesive turns out to be the same glue used by the aforementioned betrayed wife. Not only do you end up ripping open top of the bag and spilling cat litter all over your shag carpet, you also tear an elbow ligament and require Tommy John surgery.

And it gets even worse, when Snookums sees the litter mound on the carpet, it immediately triggers her kidneys!

Anyway, I think I’ve made my point: Any time you see the words “Easy Opening,” you should run away, run away, run away. “Easy Opening” is just a prelude to pain and humiliation.