I don’t like Peeps. They remind me of those noxious, spongy banana candies that taste like the dandruff on Satan’s shoulders, only with artificial banana flavouring, corn syrup solids, and yellow dye #42. When I say I don’t like Peeps, I mean I actually and actively despise them. And I have never let one near my mouth.

But that could all change if only I could find these:

Do you know where Peeps come from?

And do you know how Peeps end up? As with the characters in a Bruce Springsteen song or any other entity whose marketability depends on freshness and whose freshness the very processes of marketing degrade, they first detour into “art films”:

And this is where they end up:

Or, even more pathetically:

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