So, you don’t like candy corn. La-di-fucking-da. And now that it’s fall, you spend your day spewing all over the internet about how gross this long-reigning seasonal gem is, and for what? So everyone knows you’re not some kind of sugar-addled basic bitch?
Candy corn is awesome!
Candy corn is here for me, and I am here for candy corn. This is the one time a year we can be together, and we don’t need to hear your cranky choir of “It’s toooooo sweet” or “It TaStEs LiKe NoThInG” criticisms.
Down here, in October through November, it’s our time. It’s our time down here.
If you hate candy corn, fine. If you can’t appreciate the toothsome tri-colored treasure for what it is, a supremely adaptable and pure seasonal delight, then I won’t try to change your mind.
But I guess you've never had a handful of candy corn mixed with roasted peanuts and milk chocolate chips. I guess you’ve never chopped it up, stirred it into peanut butter cookie dough, or sprinkled some on top of brownies before baking.
You probably haven’t added it to salty, marshmallowy popcorn balls or Rice Krispie treats dotted with butterscotch chips, and you most certainly have never enjoyed a snack of “made with real honey” candy corn with a small glob of peanut butter and a flake or two of Maldon atop a slice of tart, juicy apple on a crisp autumn day.
How sad. How very tragic for you.
There is so much good in the world, right there for the taking. A beautiful orange, yellow, and white jewel presents itself to you—and yet you push it away.
Fine. That's your decision. But do not lash out against candy corn. Your inability to find joy in something so resilient, so delightfully versatile is no one’s fault but your own. You don’t hate candy corn, you hate what candy corn represents, a freedom you’re too frightened to indulge. How very sad indeed.
Candy corn is amazing. Candy corn is everything it needs to be. You're the flavorless, one-dimensional bore.