Look at that beauty.
Have you ever anything so perfect?
That, dear friends, is a Twix bar. Thick caramel but not too chewy with a slightly salty, buttery taste. The cookie in the middle has a crunch, but not like tree bark. Instead it crunches and then melts in your mouth like a delicious vanilla butter cookie. And the chocolatey coating can officially be called Milk Chocolate because it contains genuine cocoa butter instead of insipid vegetable oil.
The Twix bar was first produced in 1967 in the UK. Reaction there was akin to "My God, those are delicious," followed by a cup of tea and some inane jabber about the Queen. Or whatever.
Anyway, the bar was a hit and eventually entered the US market in 1979. The American reaction was also akin to "My God, those are delicious," except more like "Holy Baby Jesus dancin in a barn, that's good stuff," followed by a few cold beers and a heated argument over the 1979 John Deere catalog. Or something like that.
Since then the Twix bar has been riding high on the wave of its own yumminess. Sheathed in its ubiquitous golden wrapper, the Twix bar hasn't changed very much over the years. It's taste, texture and look have escaped the ravages of time relatively unscathed. In fact, most of Mars' candy bars have weathered the storm of time rather well, keeping true to their original quality. Whereas Hershey's has, by and large, decided to replace as many ingredients with fecal matter as possible, Mars has remained devoted, for the most part, to making genuinely tasty candy.
You earned it little buddy!
I still hate M&M's.
What's wrong with a Twix? Nothing, really. They're just heavy enough to be decadent, but not heavy enough to give you heartburn. They're sweet, but not cloying, a little salty but not savory. They even have all three primary candy textures: crunch, chew and melt. Plus the package is attractive and they taste great. What could possibly make them better?
Oh sh!t!
That is what you think it is. Until 1991, in many countries, the Twix bar was known as the Raider bar. Believe it.
For those of you who are having trouble comprehending the magnitude of this revelation, allow me to elaborate. Twix Bars were once called Raider bars. That's Raider as in "we just barely survived an attack from those blood thirsty raiders!" and "My favorite football team is the Raiders because they're named after roaming bands of violence incarnate." Or "Man, If there was a candy bar called a Raider, I would eat that candy bar three times a day just on the off chance that my penis would become larger!"
That's right, the butchers at Mars castrated the Raider bar to turn it into the docile and unassuming Twix bar, thereby alienating the entire "Somali Pirate" sales demographic: literally dozens of people.
What we're left with is a candy that tastes nearly the same, only without the aftertaste of bulging testicles. That is to say, a candy bar that isn't worth eating.
The solution is to pretend that each Twix bar is really a Raiders bar hiding in the freshly flayed skin of an innocent Twix, waiting for the right moment to reveal itself and savagely assault your tongue.
At least, that's what I do when my medication is running low...
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