So. Circus Peanuts.
You may not think you know what candy we're talking about here, but you do. Look at the picture to the right, and you'll remember the pain. Just about every American child has been subjected to this pasty foam terror at some point in their tear-filled youth. Some people even (gasp!) like them! For instance, helpless retarded children, or my old roommate Brock. "Oh, you can't do Circus Peanuts! Those are good!" You'll notice that he didn't participate in this review, however. That should tell you something about how much he really likes Circus Peanuts. (Interesting fact: the one and only time Brock DID participate in a bad candy review was with Happy Plums. That review should tell you something about how much he liked those.) (Another interesting note: this is our first American candy, so get off of our goddamn backs about being candy racists. Idiots.)Where was I? Oh yes, Circus Peanuts.
Circus Peanuts are orangish, pinkish, squishy foam candies that are about as big as your thumb. They are, obviously, shaped like peanuts, though they taste less like peanuts than they do ass. Truthfully, Circus Peanuts don't really smell or taste like anything, which may lead to some confusion regarding how, exactly, they qualify as bad candy. Part of the answer lies in their utterly underwhelming flavor. Ingesting Circus Peanuts is kind of like digging your old bodyboard out of the basement, compressing it down into little turd shapes using your mighty vise-like grip, and eating it. In any case, they taste nothing like peanuts. Nor, coincidentally, do they taste like the circus. I imagine. Though in all honesty I've yet to lick a clown or elephant, so I can't be sure.And in the interest of journalistic integrity, we have to admit that we bought our bag of Circus Peanuts at Pic'N'Save, the bastion of hellish, expired bulk foods and broken plastic trinkets. So it's not like we picked up the freshest bag we could find. In fact, they were marked down from $.99 to $.25, which, we figured, would only add to the excitement. Well, we were wrong. When all was said and done, we were left with very little excitement and a whole bunch of stale, orange marshmallows. We were pretty bummed. And scared.
First, a few durability tests.
Mercilessly pounding the crap out of a Circus Peanut with a hammer yielded little in the way of scientific data, but proved to be incredibly therapeutic. Those suckers sure are resilient! Check out the way the Peanut feebly clings for dear life to the hammer head. You can almost hear it begging for me to cease my distribution of ass beatings. Totally awesome.We also stuck a Circus Peanut in the microwave and nuked it on High for 30 seconds. Now THAT was cool! Within five seconds, the Circus Peanut had quadrupled in size and started to burn. Using Calculus and several other types of math he knows nothing about, Ben figures that using our advanced microwave technology, we could quadruple the world's supply of Circus Peanuts and either feed the starving masses or just kill them so we don't have to think about that kind of depressing stuff anymore. Amazing what you can do with modern technology. Unfortunately, the smell of burnt Peanut permeating my kitchen brought us crashing back down from our lofty imaginings and back into a reality where it's illegal to murder with food. We also fashioned one of the Circus Peanuts into some sort of ancient Indiana Jones-esque idol. Perhaps the indigenous peoples of Madagascar once worshipped and paid homage to the might Circus Peanut gods, lest they unleash their wrath and turn their crops of maize into pink, foamy, inedible lumps? Perhaps not. Who knows? Not me, in case you were wondering.
At this point in the experiment, we were running out of Peanuts, so we decided that it was finally time to stick some in our mouths. Because the Circus Peanuts were older than time, the bastards were rock-hard, and I had to suck on the foamy lump for a couple of seconds to loosen it up. It didn't taste like much at first; it had a very faint orange, pasty flavor to it, like eating powdered fruit. But it didn't have any citrus tang to it like its orange color would suggest... its palate was much more flat and unsatisfying. And when I actually bit into it, ho boy! The taste was so incredibly... well, still completely underwhelming. What was really disturbing was that the Peanut was quickly dissolving in my mouth into hard foamy chunks, but with the consistency of moldy flour, as if it were self-destructing.
And then it suddenly transformed into some kind of gritty mealy throwup, and I cried. Somebody needs to explain to me why, for chrissake WHY was it gritty? Thinking about it now, weeks after the actual tasting, the thought of its crunchy gruel texture still gives me chills. I mean, gritty?!? Come on! What the hell?! Why in the name of god and all that is holy was my Peanut gritty!?! GODDAMMIT, WHY WON'T THEY JUST GIVE ME A BREAK?!? JUST ONCE! WHY DID IT HAVE TO BE GRITTY?!? WHY THE GRITS, DAMN YOU?!? WHYYYYYYYYYYYyyyyyyyyyy...
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