Despite my distaste for your world's fascination with eating my kind, I have recently witnessed what I believe is called a commercial advertisement for something called a Snicker's Bar . Through careful research I got that the human involved's name is Patrick Ewing, a Hall of Fame "Basketballer." The humorous play on his last name to read "Chewing" struck me as quite funny. Good job humans!
Of course, as mentioned earlier in this post, as a general rule, I find your advertisements for my edible brethren offensive. Take, for instance, a recent Reese's Peanut Butter Cups commercial. There is a slow zoom over a bright orange package of the once great ruler of Candyland, and what I can only assume are computer generated "heat waves" distort its shape ever so slightly. Text reads, "Stop global warming or all the Reese's will melt." There are many more pressing issues to be dealt with when it comes to global warming here on earth. Your concern with the state of matter in which your candy presents itself is disturbing to say the very least.
And then there are those Skittles' commercials. While entertaining, I feel the reference may be over the heads of modern Earth humans. (Pay no mind to my awkward phraseology.) My world's Great Skittle Schism was nearly five centuries ago. The Dark Skittles Wizards and their failed mission to transform our land piece by piece is known to even the smallest gummy cub, but its connection to America's Corporate Disgruntlement escapes me, which leads me to believe it will most certainly be lost on you skinbags...flesh beings?...maybe I should just say "non-candy persons"? Besides that, the reference is slipshod, as there is no record of anyone ever lacking control of their Skittle powers.
Eat that!
Chocolate Pope
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Sunday, April 19, 2009
Debunking The Lies Of Milton Bradley's Brainwashing Board-Game
Hullo blogosphere! We here at the Candy Vatican have final mastered the technology to link my blog to your internet. You see, Candy internet developed independent of your "non-candy" internet, and it has taken a while for us to figure out an efficient way to link the two. Now, to begin!
The first, and most pressing issue upon which I will pontificate (puntificate?) is this confounding obsession some of your human offspring have developed for this "Candyland" table-top game. Clearly this Eleanor Abbott woman knew nothing about my homeland or the people thereof. At the very least, you'd think that her superiors at Milton Bradley would send the blasted thing to be fact-checked. But no! The game is absolutely riddled with factual inaccuracies. It is enough to make this Candy Man nearly melt with rage.
Allow me to start from the beginning. Never, in the history of Candy Land, has our King gone missing. The man is guarded by three brigades of the Candy Marine Corps. To assume that a man kept under such close watch could simply vanish is ludicrous!
And then, they send two human children in overalls to find him? As far as I know, no human child has made it into Candy Land without falling into an unwanted diabetic coma. The two children pictured on this game's packaging are clearly susceptible to the same health concerns.
Now, to the layout of the game. Yes, at one point, when our nation was first founded, we controlled the area now known as Plumpy's gingerbread forces. It was fitting repayment for the injustices we suffered during the second World Food Fight. But the Fruit people who had moved into the land during our absence maintained a strong presence in that area. Plumpy's gingerbread plum trees were annexed by Fruit Land in what went down as the lowest moment in Candy Land history. We Candy people maintain a small, but outspoken presence in the area, but regardless of world opinion, it is our land!
The Peppermint Forest is also nowhere near the southern border. That is an absolutely ridiculous assertion. Everyone knows that Peppermint Forest is up in the North of our lands, the last habitable outpost before the frozen lands of the Freezer pop (another contested territory that we candy people prefer not to speak about).
Certainly there are multitudinous other problems with the game, but the discussion to this point has already razzled me so greatly, that I think I will cut my losses and go read the Candy Bible.
Who stirs the sugar into every sermon?
Chocolate Pope
That's who.
The first, and most pressing issue upon which I will pontificate (puntificate?) is this confounding obsession some of your human offspring have developed for this "Candyland" table-top game. Clearly this Eleanor Abbott woman knew nothing about my homeland or the people thereof. At the very least, you'd think that her superiors at Milton Bradley would send the blasted thing to be fact-checked. But no! The game is absolutely riddled with factual inaccuracies. It is enough to make this Candy Man nearly melt with rage.
Allow me to start from the beginning. Never, in the history of Candy Land, has our King gone missing. The man is guarded by three brigades of the Candy Marine Corps. To assume that a man kept under such close watch could simply vanish is ludicrous!
And then, they send two human children in overalls to find him? As far as I know, no human child has made it into Candy Land without falling into an unwanted diabetic coma. The two children pictured on this game's packaging are clearly susceptible to the same health concerns.
Now, to the layout of the game. Yes, at one point, when our nation was first founded, we controlled the area now known as Plumpy's gingerbread forces. It was fitting repayment for the injustices we suffered during the second World Food Fight. But the Fruit people who had moved into the land during our absence maintained a strong presence in that area. Plumpy's gingerbread plum trees were annexed by Fruit Land in what went down as the lowest moment in Candy Land history. We Candy people maintain a small, but outspoken presence in the area, but regardless of world opinion, it is our land!
The Peppermint Forest is also nowhere near the southern border. That is an absolutely ridiculous assertion. Everyone knows that Peppermint Forest is up in the North of our lands, the last habitable outpost before the frozen lands of the Freezer pop (another contested territory that we candy people prefer not to speak about).
Certainly there are multitudinous other problems with the game, but the discussion to this point has already razzled me so greatly, that I think I will cut my losses and go read the Candy Bible.
Who stirs the sugar into every sermon?
Chocolate Pope
That's who.
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