Assorted Candies, Ranked

I want to meet the person who invented Hot Tamales, because I’m desperately curious about the sort of mind that could look at the candy market and think that what the public was clamoring for was a marriage of peppers and jelly beans. More than anything, I’m curious how many victims this person racked up before police thought to dig up their backyard.

I’m honestly sitting here trying to get over the fact that these things still fucking exist. Really? Lemonheads?! Who the hell buys these things that their manufacturer hasn’t gone bankrupt from the overhead alone? Finding these on the shelf is more inexplicable than Brett Ratner having a successful directing career.

Whatever’s in these, it is neither cookie nor dough. I hate to hazard a guess, but if I had to put my money on something, I’m going with granulated sugar mixed with flavored sand and elmer’s glue.

Is there anyone under the age of 60 who enjoys the taste of malted milk? Because if you could condense the Great Depression into a taste sensation, the result would be malted milk. It tastes like the physical act of waiting in a bread line.

On the plus side, they’re not actually licorice, so at least they don’t need to be outlawed for use on humans by the Geneva Convention. On the minus side, they appear to be flavorless ropes of congealed and colorized tooth plaque. The minus side wins out here.

The best thing you can say about Mike and Ikes is that they’re not Good N’ Plentys or Hot Tamales. By the same token, I love Binghamton, NY, in that it is not Mogadishu, Somalia.***

I tried these for the first time in preparation for this article. Logically, I am aware that these are not marshmallow, but my brain keeps screaming “YOU JUST PUT MARSHMALLOW IN YOUR MOUTH,” and now I need to hose down the walls.

I don’t know about you, but when I’m in the mood for something sweet, the first thing I crave is talcum discs soaked in Kool Aid.

The fact that they’re actually naming them after a type of bullet should tell you something. “Eat lead” is typically not seen as an invitation to a lovely aperitif.

Mark Shrayber insisted I put these on the list so that I could quote him on the following: “Smarties: the only candy that will satisfy your craving when you’ve run out of colored chalk.” So if you love Smarties and wanted to see them in the top ten, go bother him about it, because no way in hell was I passing that joke up. Obviously these are the American ones, and no, I don’t care if the UK ones are better, shut up.

I know this is going to make people go nuts, but seriously, what the hell is the appeal of Swedish Fish? They taste like the Gummi Bears That Time Forgot, like if you left a congealed gummi mass out on the sidewalk for a week and a half, then washed it off and chucked it in a bag. I mean, they’re not HORRIBLE, exactly, they’re just vaguely fruity wads of only partially-chewable disaster that make me wish I’d bought almost any other candy. After re-reading that sentence, I take it back — they actually are horrible.

Your first thought, upon eating a Warhead, is “OH GOD WHY HAVE I DONE THIS TO MYSELF.” It is also your third thought. And your tenth thought. All the thoughts in between are devoted to incoherent screaming. By the time you get to the actual candy part, you’re so ready for the pain to end that you convince yourself you love the candy, just because psychologically, that’s all you can do. What I’m saying here is that Warheads are the Ramsay Snow of hard candies.

First of all, if you’re about to type “they’re called nonpareils!” just shut up. No one cares. Second, why are these never as good as I expect them to be? They’re delicious for about 15 seconds, then someone goes wrong. They’re like time-released chocolate bombs covered in sugar shrapnel.

Fuck you for this name. Seriously. You can’t even put the extra “T” on there? I’d rather eat Flintstones vitamins than Sweetarts.

Fneh.

Batman Fnehrever.

Fneh and Loathing in Las Vegas/Fnehver Been Kissed/Flight of the Fnehvigator.

Junior Mints are this high on the list by virtue of not being everything else that’s come before them. They’re essentially Crest-flavored gelatinous ejaculate with a shellac coating that melts in your hand, not in your mouth…and they’re still way better than Swedish fucking Fish.

I’m curious what mad scientist figured out a way to make stained glass edible, but with the tensile strength of concrete. The weird thing is I find Jolly Ranchers strangely compelling, even if I hate myself for it.

Reese’s Pieces are the ur-example of the Reese’s company’s many attempts to break free from their element and create something that really does not work in any capacity, only people still buy the product and claim to love them because they have Reese’s Stockholm Syndrome (kind of like how so many people desperately want to believe Frozen is a good movie).

So why rank them this high if I don’t particularly like them? Purely because of the name, which serves to make everyone who pronounces it “Reesee’s” look like an idiot. It’s “Reese’s,” dammit.

Sour Patch Kids taste like Gummi Bears left out in the sun all day and then rolled in sand…and yet I can’t stop eating them. My brain screams in horror, but my taste buds demand more. What the hell do they put in these things, pure black tar heroin?

The best thing about Gummi Bears are all the fond memories I have of eating them by each of my favorite flavors. I mean cherry was the…what’s that? It’s raspberry? And green is strawberry? What the shit, you going to tell me that clears are pineapple or something? They are? MY ENTIRE CHILDHOOD IS A LIE. WHAT IS MY LIFE.

These things are an ADHD kid’s worst goddamn nightmare, which makes it weird that I actually really liked them. Also, when I was a kid, I thought they were called “Godstoppers,” which was confusing, because I didn’t know there even was an atheist candy company.

Still the best-executed peanut + chocolate candy combo on the market. Which is kind of like being Miss Butte, Montana, but whatever.

I mean, they’re pretty good, I guess. I can’t really look forward with rapt anticipation to any candy that feels like it’s dislocating my jaw, but the pink ones are pretty badass.

Remember these things? I’m not even sure you can find them any more. Fuck it, they were delicious. By the way, I’ll save everyone the trouble: the “Mystery” white flavor was “Chemicals.”

Raise your hand if you ate them by pouring half the bag into your mouth at once and chewing them into a giant, nightmarish wad of sugar-goo. Oh, no, I totally don’t know anyone that did that, either. *cough*

I don’t care what you say, Runts are delicious. Orange Runts are so good they should be illegal, and I don’t even like oranges (note: this is probably why I like orange Runts). But not the banana ones, because fuck them; you needed a goddamn hacksaw to break them apart.

Can anyone explain to me why Buncha Crunch are so much better than Crunch bars? I mean, Crunch bars aren’t bad, but Buncha Crunch are like a chocolate orgasm. Our top scientists need to get on this shit, pronto.

You’re goddamn right my #1 choice is pure, uncut sugar. I’m not even listing a flavor, because every flavor is goddamn delicious. I will fucking tear up some Nerds.

**For instance, Sour Worms don’t appear on here because after their recent horrifying ad campaign (the most nightmare-inducing thing since that PS3 baby ad), I’m refusing to acknowledge their existence. Seriously, who the fuck came up with those ads? Even Geico would be embarrassed of those things. For what it’s worth, they’d have a top-3 spot if I wasn’t boycotting them.

***Don’t ever go to Binghamton. Trust me. It’s where joy goes to die.

Image via Vorobyeva/Shutterstock. Special thanks to kinja user Smithwellette for all of her help with this post.