I no longer smoke or drink. Don’t use drugs (“Can’t afford ‘em,” I tell humorless healthcare workers who merely stare back at me).
And candy is pretty much off the menu, though not by choice. This is one that can’t be blamed on the bossa nova, the Brian Jones Era Rolling Stones, or The Illuminati. No, this rests firmly and uncontestably on the shoulders of whatever faceless food conglomerate owns the recipes for Butterfinger, Crackerjack, and peanut M & M’s.
I’ve never been a big candy eater – not even as a kid at Halloween – and have always been rather particular about what candy I will eat. Across the years and miles, I’ve held with the three listed above (and one other, which we’ll get to momentarily). But then the shadowy “powers that be” crossed me up.
I had to drop Butterfinger when what had been a light, buttery, flaky inside surrounded by milk chocolate became a thin layer of milk chocolate, over a thin layer of light, buttery, flaky stuff, surrounding a core made of dental filling-threatening resinous something. Ugh. So, I had to bid Butterfinger farewell.
With Crackerjack, the caramel-covered popcorn was reduced to popcorn with a delicate spray of caramel and worst of all, nearly all the peanuts disappeared. They may be completely out of the recipe by now. And let’s not even touch on the subject of the old claim of “A Prize Inside!” A lick-and-stick tattoo of a unicorn or a mermaid is hardly a surprise these days.
Finally, there’s the sad transformation of peanut M & M’s. I’ve had to turn my back on them because they changed the color scheme from solid primary colors to warm and fuzzy pastels. Apparently, pouring out a handful of red, blue, green, yellow, orange, and brown ovals was too much for those of more delicate sensitivities than yours truly. As my Mom – the sainted Barbara June – might have said, “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!”
And don’t even get me started on peanut allergies and lactose intolerance, things no one had ever heard about until near the end of the last century. Did they even exist before then? I doubt it. I figure it’s due to a softening of the species. Bad genes. I say without fear of contradiction that no one my age has yet to go down from a peanut allergy or a nasty case of lactose intolerance. Same goes for their kids. Their grandchildren on the other hand seem to suffer from everything up to and including the ten plagues Moses brought down on Egypt and whatever dust and slivers were left in the bottom of Pandora’s Box.
Which is why I thank all gods – past, present, and yet to be created – for Snickers, the one true essential candy bar.
In this less-than-enlightened age of The World, the historical impact of Snickers has been largely forgotten, much as Brian Jones who founded the Rolling Stones has been all but erased from that band’s history.
For the want of a Snickers bar, empires have toppled, wars have been declared, great love affairs have turned into tragedies.
To cite the most obvious example (to the trained observer and interpreter of historical paintings), one need merely compare images of Napoleon Bonaparte at the battle of Austerlitz with those of the Emperor at Waterloo.
At Austerlitz, Napoleon is shown in the familiar pose with one hand inside his coat. On his normally stern face, a look of triumph. He knows his greatest victory is in the bag.
Now, my coat has two interior pockets. In one I keep my ID, my health insurance card, and my debit card. In the other, well, sometimes I may have a Snickers bar stashed there, though my doctor would not approve.
In a now lost letter to his father, Napoleon’s most faithful and skilled subordinate, the legendary Marshal Ney, was said to have written that Napoleon’s favorite post-battle treat was “a confection made of nougat, caramel, peanuts, and chocolate,” washed down with a well-aged brandy. Any guesses as to what ingredients make up a Snickers bar?
Conversely, one painting at Waterloo shows a forlorn Napoleon reaching inside his coat. A sketch rumored to have been made moments later reportedly shows a distraught Emperor staring at his empty hand. With no Snickers bar to be found, Wellington and his allies won the day, leading to Napoleon’s abdication and exile to the island of Saint Helena. Was it all for the want of “a confection made of nougat, caramel, peanuts, and chocolate”? One can’t help but wonder.
(Note To The Straightman: No, my pirate brother, I have not forgotten Licorice Crows. They are not mentioned here because they transcend the category of “candy.”)
Well, I have to agree about Snickers but disagree about M&Ms. I seem to be colorblind when it comes to those delicious little bites. It seems as we get older doctors just want to take away every last little enjoyment we have. They are sadists. But at least a few sugar-free products are tasting a little better.
You had me wondering about 'em right up to the closing paragraph, my dear pirate brother.
Even Deb, who lay beside me as I read the post aloud, interrupted me after your mention of Napoleon's holy & sainted nougat confection - "dude - what about the Crows?"
Still out in Ballard - your straightman