Candy corn, I hate you. Mainly because -- and I'm going to be blunt here -- you fucking suck. You taste like pre-digested marshmallows and Sweet Vanilla Shit Meadow Febreze had a flavor baby. You're punishment candy. People who give out candy corn on Halloween would be better off giving out bibles, because on the candy scale (and this is a fact), bibles are way more delicious than candy corn. Way more.
The following is an accurate Venn diagram of the flavor profile of candy corn. It's real. Believe it:
I realize there are people in the world who love candy corn, and to those people I say, "Please trick-or-treat with me because you can have all those lame ass orange and black taffy things I get and the Sugar Daddies, too."
Wikipedia says the "National Confectioners Association estimates that 20 million pounds (over 9000 tons) of candy corn are sold annually." Which one of you jack-o'-lantern holes is buying 20 million pounds of this nasty? I know it's gotta be just one dude.
Candy corn is worse than having to watch Ashton Kutcher talk. It's worse than being constipated. It's worse than having to watch Ashton Kutcher talk while constipated.
So you can imagine my pissed-off-edness when I discovered that October 30 (my birthday) is National Candy Corn Day. You are one mean mummy fucker, candy corn. You not only have to taste like crap, but you also have to crap all over my b-day?
I move that October 30 be changed from National Candy Corn Day to National Screw You Candy Corn Day. Or National Brisket Day. Or National Double Middle Fingers To The People Who're Naming These National Food Days Day.
So mad at candy corn right now.
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