We're in for Some Nasty Candies

I AM NO WIMP when it comes to gastronomy.

I can take on any serving of five-alarm chili, no problem, Jalapeno peppers do not faze me. I will always go for the "Hot" salsa; "Mild" is for the timid-of-tastebud.

Over spring break this year, some friends and I went to Charleston, South Carolina. At a farmers' market, we found a booth specializing in spices. After browsing over jars labeled with names like "Satan's Daughter," "Hot Sex" and "Hot Shit Combo," we finally selected "Burn Like Hell." Only a couple of us have used it since. But I've never been sorry; it's the best two bucks I spent during the whole vacation.

I am not frightened by hot and spicy food. But the new trend in scary candy makes me shudder.

SURE, THERE have always been "Fire" Jolly Ranchers and Cinnamon Red Hots. but recently the candy company testing kitchens have decided that "pain" is the new craze in confections. As a consequence, the industry is flooding the shelves with vinegary, scorching, tongue-battering products meant to maim.

These are no mere Tiny Tarts.

At 47th National Summer Candy Exposition, recently held in the Hynes Convention Center, the nightmarish goodies were out in full force: Mega Warheads, tear Jerkers, Cry Babies. feeding off the success of the movie "Terminator 2," was "T2--The Ultimate Jawbreaker," which has a hot endocore center. That's right, a hot endocore center. This is not a science project. It's something to ingest.

The Crimson covered that convention, and so we all got to try the free samples once the reporter returned, his backpack bursting with cavity-inducing treats. The entire summer staff gathered around the desk, chattering excitedly about our old childhood favorites like Whoppers and Junior Mints and Sugar Babies.

Among the traditional candies, however, were several ominous strangers. Someone picked up a round plastic box filled with innocent-looking pastel pellets. "What are these?" he asked. We didn't know. He popped one into his mouth. Ten seconds later, his eyes were teary and he was shrieking obscenities. We laughed at his pain.

THAT, OF COURSE, is the problem with abusive candies. No one likes to be laughed at; you face a real ego blow if you have to spit out a Mega Warhead.

These dangerous candies are the snacks of masochists. They don't taste good. So why do they sell? because they're lusty, violent, sinister and dangerous; and six-year-olds buy them to appear lusty, violent, sinister and dangerous.

Imagine the playground possibilities for ostracism. No longer will dodge ball be the sole determinant of power. Now sugar will separate the strong from the meek: woe to the first-grader who can't stomach a tear Jerker.

That's a crying shame. Hot salsa is one thing; blistering candy is something else entirely, Candy is supposed to be fun, not a source of confrontation under the jungle gym.

Violence is on TV and in the movies; does it really have to be in the mouths of babes" Kids compete in academic, athletic and social environments; does competition need to extend to the candy counter? Does an overly-sensitive tongue really make you a nerd?

These terrorist candies of the 90s are certainly troubling. When today's elementary school set reaches adulthood, we'll have a generation of savage war-mongers who refuse to back down.

But even worse, they'll lose all sensation in their tastebuds from years of sucking on acidic balls and searing pellets. The seasoning industry will go broke. Condiments will be useless. Food will lose all flavor whatsoever, and no one will care.

This will be the Go To Hell/Please Pass The Oatmeal generation. It's not going to be pretty.