This is for the leagues of you thinking, “Hey, how does Jason feel about candy?”
Sour Patch Kids
I generally don’t eat anything with such blatant ties to the doll industry, and usually do my best to steer clear of ingesting candy in the shape of a child. So, when I frantically gobble a whole bag of you in 45 seconds while waiting in line at Walgreens — which I do with shameful frequency — I don’t feel particularly good physically or mentally. Taste, as it turns out, is far more powerful a motivator than morality, guilt, eyesight, health, self-esteem, reason or shame.
There’s a Milk Dud stuck in my back molar that’s old enough to vote. You are the Polident of candy. There’re a few gastronomical feats that continue to elude me: freeing a popcorn kernel skin from the back of my throat, and exorcizing a Milk Dud remnant from a tooth. I know this is mostly a result of caramel, but somehow, adding cheap milk chocolate to the mix creates a sealant strong enough for masonry and possibly even grouting.
Hi y’all, I’m just hanging out here at the movie theater in case you ever wanted to eat Lemon Pledge. Let me know, K?
Nerds (Classic and Nerds Rope)
Great taste. Two huge strikes on size and shape though guys. Classic nerds are way too small. I want to enjoy some artificial sweetness, not pan for gold. My only other Nerds option is rope? ” I don’t like the idea that I could hang myself with candy. Here’s something delicious that can also be used as a lasso! You should have tried “Nerd Nuggets” or maybe “Nerd Tots” first.
Almond Joy and Mounds
“Almond Joy’s Got Nuts. Mounds Don’t.” NICE GRAMMAR! So you’re focusing on the illiterate river people demographic? I’m not clear on who you’re trying to target here. Maybe it’s the “folksy midwestern” audience? Bad news; they make their own candy, and it’s called Meth. You better put an ad in the New Yorker to balance things out. Also, the name differentiation shows that you clearly favor Almond Joy. Are you actively trying to discourage people from eating the nutless version? “You can have this one that’s full of joy, or, if you hate yourself and the world, you can ingest something we’ve named “MOUNDS.”
If you’re supposed to taste like a milk fart, congrats. You nailed it.
Maybe it’s me, but I find it extremely difficult to resist dumping you out and snorting you. It’s disturbing that you’ve made no effort to disguise the fact that you’re pure sugar. “Let’s make Angel Dust for children! We’ll package it like prison contraband!” Diabetes thanks you, Pixie Stix. As does my mouthful of poisonous metal fillings and brain lesions.
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