Natawurly, proprietress of the CurlyWurlyGurly blog, has issued a challenge to her regular readers. Come to think of it, I guess it’s open to her irregular readers too, which means that I’m obligated to participate. This from the woman who precociously in grade school informed the teacher that “I [didn't] have my homework because the dog ate my conscience.” (Fifth grade, I kid you not.) In a nutshell (preferably a filbert loaded with nutella), the challenge is thus:
“The WORST candy in the history of mankind has to be ______ .”
I won’t lie. I thought about alternate, “clever” ways to subvert the challenge. I thought of the 1968 movie Candy adapted from Terry Southern’s novel; it was a flop even though its pedigree was enviable (inspired by Volatire’s Candide, screenplay by Buck Henry, starring Marlon Brando, Walter Matthau, John Astin (Gomez Addams, swoon), John Huston, James Coburn, Ringo Starr, Charles Aznavour, Richard Burton, and, uhm, former Miss Teen Sweden Ewa Aulin). Despite its flopdom, it was nowhere close to being the worst anything in the history of anything. I thought of Dutch smooth-jazz saxophone goddess Candy Dulfer. I thought of Andy-Warhol’s-Factory-Regular Candy Darling. I thought of CNN correspondent Candy Crowley. And many others. Whatever their flaws, none are so horribly afflicted so as to be even remotely considered to be the worst anything in the history of mankind. So I was doomed to play it straight.
Another blogger immediately responded with circus peanuts, which might have been my choice were it not for the fact that circus peanuts are completely inedible and not fit for consumption, human or otherwise. Ha! They are obviously not candy but some bizarre souveneirs that someone decided are supposed to be eaten. The great P.T. Barnum, circusman extraordinaire, did say that “there’s a sucker born every minute.” My theory is that circus peanuts are designer packing peanuts.