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The Great M&M Contest of '95 [1]

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Date: 2024-11-16  

Sure, voting is technically a democratic right, but for me, this was all about candy, not civic duty. It was the sheer thrill of being a kid in the mid-90s, growing up in the suburbs, where we believed our candy choices could profoundly shape the course of our nation’s history. Forget future scandals like hanging chads (a name which always gave off major "skateboarder bros smoking joints at dusk" vibes) or off-the-wall conspiracy theories, this was the real deal. It was where candy-coated passions collided with a sugar-fueled desire for influence.

The campaign itself was pure 90s magnificence, the kind of glory you just can’t recreate today. The M&M’s color vote seemed to be everywhere: TV commercials, magazine ads, and grocery store displays, urging you to “MAKE HISTORY!” This empowerment made the voting feel even more monumental, even if it just meant dialing a phone number. The stakes were simple: blue, pink, or purple, each vying for a chance to live out their lifetime dream, which was ironically that of being eaten alive.

For kids like me, it was a moment of choice, prompted by vibrant packaging and the kind of buzz that spread through classrooms and at recess just as fast, if not faster, than a raging case of pink eye. It didn’t matter if you knew what democracy meant (and you probably didn’t) you were part of something bigger, and it tasted like chocolate.

At ten, I was about as politically charged as a 1.5-volt battery. But I had this deep, unshakable urge to dial that 1-800 number, convinced that my persistence toward a winning vote could change the candy landscape forever. It became an all-consuming mission (psychologists at the time completely missing this as a hallmark of my neurodivergence).

Despite my minimal political know-how, I was all in on blue. Deeply, profoundly on blue. The irony? I didn’t even really like M&Ms. I mean, I would eat them if they were in close proximity, but I wasn’t a fool. I knew they were full of lies and would immediately melt in my hand the second they touched my palm, like butter on a hot skillet. I always leaned more toward Skittles, where the color scheme made actual sense in correspondence to flavor (but that’s a topic for another time).

Still, I did what any committed 10-year-old with ADHD and a constant need for novelty would do: I called the number. And called again. And again. And once more for good measure. I made that phone ring until dialing those numbers, "1-800-FUN-COLOR," became muscle memory. With the sound of each key tone, I was declaring my loyalty to the blue cause. It was my unstoppable quest to flood that phone line and like the Mars Corporation kept telling me, “MAKE HISTORY!”

Mind you, this wasn’t my first brush with voting. My fifth-grade class would often hold mock elections, casting votes for everything from “favorite lunch” (brunch for lunch, no contest!) to selecting a class pet (Lancelot, the goldfish, whose tragic end occurred all too soon when Sam Gunner’s family left for the weekend and forgot that fish need food to live). Turns out you can’t survive on good intentions. But those votes were just classroom fun (bordering on animal cruelty in Lance’s case).

Now, whenever I encounter a pack of M&Ms, I’m reminded of the time that my interest was piqued at an early age when given the chance to vote for something that actually inspired me. Sure, blue sits there, smug in its victory, but my feelings? Mixed. On one hand, I see blue as my crowning achievement, but I also recognize that this wasn’t a true democracy. What if everyone had voted, even if they didn’t like the color options? In a fair election, with one person, one vote, I wonder which color we’d be holding in our palm today. Maybe purple would have been the more balanced choice, bridging the sweet and sour divide... Blue won with 54% of the votes—and I must have contributed about 50% of them.

Looking back, my loyalty to blue wasn’t just about the color. It was a spark of something deeper, a desire to be part of something, to influence the world in my own small way. I had no awareness of what “blue” would one day signify politically. To me, blue was simply my candidate in a candy contest—a circular someone who somehow managed to wear a tie and formal wear. (Please, someone explain the engineering behind that). And to think, this is all for someone I’d later eat.

Years later, blue took on a new meaning. It became the color of progress, a symbol of standing up for fairness and what is just, and a celebration of unity and inclusivity. What began as a childhood fascination with a simple chocolate shell grew into something far greater than candy. That’s the beauty of democracy: ever-evolving, shaped by unseen forces, yet always finding ways to connect to and inspire our everyday lives.

Now, you may ask, what does this have to do with our current political situation? This fluff piece, this playful moment in history, offers a bit of light in today’s shadows; a hint of milk chocolate to soften the bitter edge of our dark chocolate landscape. Perhaps it’s a sweet reminder that even the most unexpected paths can lead us to lessons we didn't expect. Life isn’t always about perfect decisions, but about learning, growing, and finding ways to align with what truly matters. Sometimes, it’s the most imperfect moments that give us the clearest perspective.

So let’s take a collective deep breath, hold onto our nostalgia, and look back on the M&M vote, knowing that the battle for blue was just the beginning of a deeper dive into what it means to have a voice. The stakes today are higher, the consequences more profound, but the core feeling remains the same. What once felt like a battle for a candy color now feels like a lifelong pursuit for meaning in a world full of complex choices.

Dedicated to Lancelot,

The goldfish who taught us the fleeting nature of victories.

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