Viagra really missed the mark coloring their “candy” blue.
[This is an edited re-post from a prior Substack post on September 26, 2025.]
Somewhere along the way in the 80s, I’m guessing about 11th grade, I learned that a certain candy was theoretically laced to give it extra “power.” That would’ve been about 1985 or 1986 for me, which jives with the ramblings and teachings of another mystical creature called “the internet.” I can’t swear to the following conversation, or even who it was with for sure. But deep down in the unused synapses of my gray matter it feels like a friend-girl from high school named Beth. I say it that way because though we’d had a small “Golly! <Har! Har!> You wanna go steady with me?” phase, making out felt a lot like kissing my sister cousin favorite stuffed animal. We were far better as friends in English and Art classes my last two years of high school. She was smarter than me, so who was I to argue in the coming highly-scientific conversation?
Let me set the scene. We were in Mr. Rodriguez’s art class. Yes, THAT Mr. Rodriguez, who claimed to all of us lawyers in high school that Schlitz had stolen his painting of a bull to use as their Malt Liquor Bull in commercials. I’m not sure what he expected, but none of us were looking for pro bono work. After all, we had sports, homework, and the internet wasn’t open to civilians, yet. And we were teenagers. In fact, now that this man has popped up in the story, allow me just a bit more creative license to go “Squirrel!”
[On January 28, 1986, the space shuttle Challenger exploded. He had a small 5” black-and-white television/radio console in his office. He came out and announced it had just blown up with the exact same tone any sane person would’ve used for announcing they were repairing holey underwear or darning their socks. It was flatter than Ben Stein’s personality. The art class erupted with guffaws and a few cleverly placed metaphors. I recall being the kid to call him out by running into his office after him, because this was the same clown who apparently a major beer manufacturer was trying to screw over. Who knew what to believe? Well, his tiny little screen did, indeed, show something exploding. A few minutes later, the school made the announcement.]
Squirrel Out. Back to magic candy.
Beth: “Want an M & M?”
Me: “Sure.”
She pours a few out.
Beth: “Oops! 🤣 You can hand that green one back if you don’t want it! You don’t wanna… you know…”
Me: “🫤”
Beth: “You know—“
Clearly I did not.
Beth: “The thing about green M & Ms making you…” Her eyes grew wide 😳 and she kind of glanced and nudged down… down… down…
She was trying not to say “horny.” Once I’d figured it out, my only choice was to conclude that the wide eyes represented her anticipated impressment should she ever see me sans pants. Boy, did she ever dodge a reality-bullet by breaking up with me before we reached “maximum orbit.” Anyhow, she educated me as to how the green M & Ms either made your horny, or meant that the person giving them to you was horny.
What brought this up out of the foggy memory bank was a story from just last week, some well endowed news out of Knowlton Township, New Jersey. Trust me, I couldn’t erect a story like this with skyscraper kit and a thousand 1930s Irishmen. This one’ll get your blood pumping.
Okay, not really. But how could I resist the chance to help a few juvenile innuendos get laid out into my newsletter? Especially when the story involves one tractor-trailer rear-ending another?
On Highway 80 West, the collision resulted in cases upon cases of M & Ms spilling onto the highway. My first thought when reading that was, “Did someone pick up all the green ones first? <Giggity> OMG, did I literally just ‘giggity’ like that weirdo on ‘Family Guy’?”
My second thought was that the lead trailer—the one who took it from behind—had probably parked on the shoulder specifically to pluck out the green ones. I imagined a pair of graveyard-shift delivery drivers, workmates who’ve been running the same candy route for years, just finally giving-in to the overwhelming power of the green, hard-shelled sugar-coverings in the back.
Bill, wondering why they’ve pulled onto the shoulder: “What’re you doin’, bro?”
Rodrico, panting wildly: “I can’t take it anymore, Bill!” He opens the little slider on the back window and rips into a brown case with his teeth.
Bill: “Dude! At least hit the exit and park! It’s dangerous on the shoulder!”
Rodrico, with green dye running down the corners of his mouth: “Speaking of shoulders… you been working out?”
Bill, suddenly hungry: “Gimme some of those little diabetes pills! And make ‘em green, dammit!”
Rodrico: “Why? Are you thinking ‘bout playing… Candy Crush…?”
Wham!
The rumor of green M & Ms having powerful aphrodisiac qualities is a long, hard one to dispel. According to the internet’s most trustworthy, reliable, and completely unbiased resource, Snopes, it started in the early 70s at some unknown university. Over time, the rumor spread to the other universities, which surprisingly didn’t arouse suspicion about its validity. I’m guessing that happened at the same rate as cases of herpes and chlamidia.
M & M/Mars Inc. totally leaned into this with the (eventual) creation of the sultry lady green M & M, complete with long eyelashes and Ginger Grant allure. They eventually coined the advertising slogan, “Is it true what they say about the green ones?” Genius.
It’s funny how the older we get, the more little stupid things like this remind of us of past events, like little malt-liquor bulls smashing through our memories. I’ve not been to Texas since my dad’s funeral over twenty years ago. And during that and other family related trips prior, I’d only ever seen one old high-school friend at all. But even my own offspring are nearly all over 30, now, and I do find myself yearning to visit Texas once the money fairies have spread a little extra pixie dust in the vacation budget. I’d move back, but my wife is allergic to fun, heat, humidity, snakes, mesquite trees, country music, rock-a-billy music, preachers, tech billionaires, and $700 dollar power bills.
What I should do is use the power of Substack and social media to spread a new rumor: When someone hands you a brown M & M, you’re supposed to buy them plane tickets to Texas!
