Easter Candy: Can We Admit Peeps are Awful?

Peeps have long been the bane of my Easter basket’s existence.

These chewy marshmallows encased in a crust of sweetened sand were always a plant by my Father, a Peeps-loving man who would always exact a candy tax from our Easter and Halloween hauls. He knew I’d eat my own arm before I ate a disgusting Peep. And yet each year, a row of neon yellow chick-shaped marshmallows sat nestled aside the good candy —Elmer’s Gold Brick and Pecan and Heavenly Hash eggs, Reese’s peanut butter cups, Russell Stover chocolate bunny and the Cadbury eggs — taunting me, tricking me into thinking that this year they could be good.

Each year I might taste one. And each year I was reminded of a truth that can’t be denied:

Peeps are disgusting.

They’re a trash candy unworthy of our Easter baskets, let alone our mouths. And abomination against all good candy, purchased by poor souls who were tricked by the monsters at Big Peep into believing that they were not deserving of decent treats. They have no texture, unless you like cleaning grains of sand out of your teeth, and no flavor, unless you like cloying, one note sweetness.

And they turn from soft to basically fossilized the moment they’re exposed to the air.

Somewhere along the line, these crusty poofs of grossness began to gain popularity with the masses. Ironically? Oh no. Some people, who clearly cannot be trusted, actually believe that they LIKE Peeps. They like Peeps so much that the Purveyor of Peeps has expanded to stuffed Peeps and chocolate dipped Peeps and “decadent” flavored Peeps, because nothing says luxury like artificial blueberry flavoring mixed in with one of the world’s most disgusting marshmallows and then dipped in chocolate.

Unless it is the Exclusive to Target Orange Sherbet Flavored Peeps Delight, dipped in “crème flavored fudge.” Pinky. Out. That’s right. There are now limited edition, exclusive to certain stores Peeps, which is about as good of a sign of the decline of our society as anything else.

In some communities, they sell pancake and syrup-flavored Peeps, because, apparently, we just have no standards anymore. There are sour cherry and sour watermelon Peeps and it would almost be impressive how many different terrible ways there are to eat Peeps if it weren’t so sad.

The makers of Peeps, perhaps the biggest Trolls of Easter, publish a variety of recipes for making Peeps desserts, like a Peeps Brownie Nest, wherein you make a brownie and put a Peep on it after baking. Or a Peeps Seven Layer Bar, which is a seven-layer bar with – you guessed it – a Peep placed on top after baking. Same goes for the Giant Peeps Chocolate Chip Cookie, a cookie cake with dozens of Peeps on the top as a decoration, which no delicious cookie deserves.

The only one that I’m slightly intrigued by is what appears to be a Peeps Rice Krispie treat, which is promising only because it requires you to murder Peeps to make it.

Peeps literally now gives you a WINE pairing for their most offensive Peeps — the faux flavored marshmallows dipped in chocolate known as Peeps Delights. Also: if you’re drinking sparkling rose moscato or something called an orange dreamsicle martini, perhaps it’s better that we just not interact, Peeps or no Peeps.

Online, they implore you to express your #Peepsonality. Right now, mine is: Stabby.

And, yes, all of this is quite possibly just a marketing scheme meant to draw the ire of the Peeps haters, to push their unsophisticated gummy marshmallows drowning in sugar on the masses. And it has worked, because I steadfastly believe that in the end, it will be Nick Saban, cockroaches and Peeps that outlive us all. (And Saban will be sooooo pissed that there are no Little Debbies left).

IN SUMMATION: Whether you’re packing up Easter baskets for someone else or eating discount Easter candy alone for dinner (not judging), do the world a favor and stop buying Peeps. Leave this trash candy where it belongs — in the clearance bins of Rite Aid, marked down to nearly free until it becomes so hard that it can be used to make bricks or as a doorstop.

Let’s bring Big Peep down once and for all and reclaim April for chocolate and nuts and peanut butter and caramel and coconut and literally anything else.