Earlier today I read a piece proposing that the Trump campaign adopt another candy other than Skittles for their political propaganda. It’s a sentiment that I wholeheartedly agree with. Skittles are Black as fuck, just as is Sprite, lemon-pepper wings, strawberry Kool-Aid, and Red Velvet cake. They have no place in Trump’s Cheetos-Land. If Skittles were a person, the Police would probably shoot them and cite a grave fear of tasting the rainbow as justification for use of deadly force. It’s also the official snack of the Black Delegation at the Race Draft.
The piece lists a few subpar confections to replace the candied fruit stones, most of which I also agree with. Peeps are spoiled marshmallows that have been repurposed as a remedy for rabid animals and bad-ass, spoiled kids who call their parents by their first names and refer to them as “parental units.” Tootsie rolls are chunks of sugarcoated shit, infused with chewing tobacco.
But one confit that has no place on this list is Twizzlers. These luscious, velvety, fruity twists are not a member of the shitty candies fraternity. Furthermore, the author had the audacity to put Twizzlers and Red Vines together, as if they’re the same or some shit like that. That’s just straight up blasphemy. Harpo, who dis woman?!
RED VINES AND TWIZZLERS are not the same. They ARE NOT. AT ALL.
Red Vines are the ineffective, diabetic imposter of Twizzlers. They are the sacchariferous embodiment of Tyrone Biggums and Ashy Larry, combined. They should be used as eco-friendly PVC pipes in tiny homes. They are sourced from the remnants of Medusa’s tentacles, mixed with Satan’s charred skin, flavored with Pepto Bismol, and greased with Castor Oil. They’re what you give to people who are serious about kicking their smoking habit and regurgitate Steve Harvey’s dating advice.
There’s a reason why Red Vines are always on ’10 for $1′ special at Walgreen’s. Nursing homes and daycares need to buy them in bulk so that old folks and toddlers can build inedible gingerbread houses during the holiday season.
Unlike the salt vs. sugar in your grits debate, this shit matters. Because the people who prefer Red Vines to Twizzlers are strange outliers. They should be monitored and examined for scientific purposes because they are probably a bodysnatcher or some shit. They are imposters, sent from another planet, tasked with observing and mimicking humans so that they can replicate Will Smith’s movies, and Beyonce’s dance moves in a universe far, far away.
Have you ever thought that chick you were crushing on was too good to be true? Does she like Red Vines? THEN SHE PROBABLY IS. Curious who gave you a gift card to Blockbuster Video during your company’s Secret Santa exchange? It’s probably from the guy who hordes a 10-pound bucket of sugary plastic straws on his desk next to his autographed photo of David Hasselhoff.
Those who prefer Red Vines but despise Twizzlers are the type of individuals who bring canned salmon and rice casseroles to potlucks. They’re the ones who drafted Michael Vick in the first round of their fantasy football league. These are the same crazies who thought it was a good idea to make a breakfast sandwich with grilled chicken, egg whites, and turkey bacon. They also DVR reruns of Wheel of Fortune and Who’s Line Is It Anyway.
Twizzlers are superior to Red Vines in every way imaginable. They’re available in a variety of flavors, sizes, and deliciousnesses. Yes, I made up a word, fight me. They got everything from bite-sized, strawberry, gooey delectables to a bonbon rope, made up of smaller cables, that tastes like watermelon. It’s awesome, b. It’s the confectioner’s version of puppies and unicorns. It’s the reason a dentist can afford a house in Jay-Z’s neighborhood. What else are you going to eat at the movie theater? Those wax coated cyanide tablets called Good & Plenty? Naw, fam.
Red Vines only come in two flavors: red formaldehyde and blue plaster. They are the sole reason why kids ate asbestos chips in the 1980s. They make black licorice taste like appetizing strings of chocolate. Red Vines is what that menacing muhfuckin’ clown Pennywise used strangle his victims. It’s what Waffle House provides to their new employees during customer service training. It’s what your grandma beat you with when you picked out a weak-ass switch from the yard.
While candy is generally bad for your health, and your wallet — like Kappa parties during Homecoming at an HBCU — there are some worth being consumed. Twizzlers is one of them. It’s Seinfeld-loving, Toyota Prius-driving, tree bark cousin, Red Vines, is not.
If you like this dried Sean John velour, seasoned with Luden’s lozenges and dipped in pool water abomination then I feel bad for you, son. I pity you the same way I pity Malia Obama’s dance moves. Or Drake’s endearing love for strippers and Rihanna. Or Ann Coulter’s entire existence. Or Meek Mills’ diss records. Because you have no idea that the candy you’re eating is nothing more than whale leather rolled into fruit-flavored pirouettes. If you enjoy gnawing on porcupine quills during the dead of winter in Alaska, then, by all means, eat some Red Vines. But you’re not doing your taste buds or your gums any favors. And don’t you dare equate them to, or say they’re better than Twizzlers. It’s your world, enjoy!