1FejHyEI_O6JAvOdqvKc6iA

Our Least Favorite Halloween Candy

The MEL staff on the sweets we absolutely hate

MEL isn’t afraid to run the hottest of hot takes. When it comes to Halloween candy, the most sizzling is that of our own editor-in-chief, who believes that Three Musketeers is the finest candy bar on the market. We know what you’re thinking: Fake news! But, of course, taste is subjective, and everyone has their own preferences. (It’s just that most preferences are wrong.) In honor of what is objectively the year’s greatest holiday, we asked the rest of the MEL staff to tell us which candy they hate most. Because when it comes to low-key trolling, hating on the simple pleasures of others is always the most fun.

Nick Leftley, Senior Editor: Licorice. Any form of licorice, whether it’s the weird salty European kind or the sweet, bright red gummy form. All of it, without exception, tastes like used motor oil that’s been heated to room temperature inside a long distance runner’s anus. A piece of licorice is what I imagine comes out when the Creature from the Black Lagoon finally passes an especially bloody, painful kidney stone. It is the sludge they removed from the pulmonary artery during Satan’s heart bypass. It is the concentrated evil of the world, manifested on the physical plane as a dead, boiled slug.

All that said, licorice is still not as gross as Hershey’s chocolate, which tastes like when you burp and accidentally do a little bit of sick in your mouth. It is a fucking abomination.

John McDermott, Sr. Staff Writer: I enjoy most divisive candies. I’m in the extreme minority of people who think candy corn is fine — enjoyable even, at the right juncture and in small quantities.

Raspberry licorice? Goddamn delicious, no matter what certain well-coiffed, contrarian Englishmen might try to tell you.

A Werther’s Original? I’ll suck that baby down faster than your toothless grandma.

But Skittles? Man, fuck Skittles. While their colors may be enticing they are nothing but food dye and refined sugar condensed into a tiny, pill-size form designed to make you choke. You can’t even chew them, they’re so dense and sticky. Skittles are for children who want to get high on sugar, drive their parents to the brink of sanity, and then crash (physically and emotionally) before vomiting all over the backseat. I see no other purpose for Skittles other than to turn children into monsters and addict them to sugar.

Andrew Fiouzi, Assistant Editor: I’m a chocolate fiend. Which means I’ll eat just about any candy bar with chocolate on or in it — unless that chocolate bar is a Three Musketeers. Seriously, whose idea was it to insert airy foam that tastes like coagulated frosting inside a chocolate bar? The worst part is, on Halloween, no candy seems to be more plentiful than a godforsaken Three Musketeers. It’s basically the only chocolate bar you can leave in a bowl by your door with a note that says “please take one” and have no one actually do it.

Ian Lecklitner, Assistant Editor: Before I hate on some candy, know that I’m not a fan of sweets. I think most sweets are too damn sweet. Case in point: Sour Patch Kids, Sour Punch and Sour Belts. Here’s my problem: Anything made entirely of sugar then smothered with another layer of sugar is too much goddamn sugar. I’ll have a sandwich instead.

Miles Klee, Contributing Writer: I have to question the judgment of anybody who claims to like jellybeans, which seem like chewy pebbles made by compressing the toxic byproducts left over from the production of a dozen other inferior candies. (Related: Are Mike & Ikes jellybeans? What about Good & Plentys? WHO IS EATING THIS WAXY GARBAGE?) At least that dumbass Harry Potter-licensed version of jellybeans has the decency to admit what we all know, which is that these things mostly taste like boogers, barf, or soap. It’s bad enough that they pollute kids’ Easter baskets every year; they should be considered doubly unwelcome in a trick-or-treat bag.

Sam Dworkin, Assistant Art Director: My hate for saltwater taffy has nothing to do with its taste, but rather its ability to remove my teeth. During my childhood, in a freak kickball accident I ran into a steel railing and destroyed my two front teeth, making me the only kid in school with porcelain veneers. That same year on Halloween, I found out that taffy is very good at removing said veneers. With one bite into its concrete core my beautiful chompers popped right off, leaving me with two white-trash stubs in their place. Even though I’ve upgraded from veneers to crowns, I’m still haunted by those multicolored devils.

Josh Schollmeyer, Editor-in-Chief: Almond fucking Joy. Chocolate would be better served covering shit. Another waste: The perfectly fucking good coconut that gave its life for that nauseating texture, which makes me gag as soon as it hits my lips as well and stays on my tongue for what seems like hours. And so, both should stay in their respective lanes: Chocolate encasing a Three Musketeers bar (clearly the finest candy on the market) and coconut in boxes that are marketed as a novel twist on water (which, it should be noted, are great for hangovers).

Alana Levinson, Deputy Editor: The only thing that sucks about Halloween, The Goodest Holiday (by far), is candy corn. The “confection” — if you can call it that — tastes like stale sugar consolidated into a tiny turd. Even more disgusting is how it’s always offered up loose in a bowl, covered in germs from the hundreds of monsters who dared to try some before you. If you’re not yet convinced candy corn is utter trash, take a bite out of a piece next time and think about the consistency of ear wax. You’re welcome!

Tim Grierson, Contributing Editor: My wife bought this at the grocery store. I think she hates me.