Few words conjure memories of pure bliss and satisfaction quite like that one. The Dorito defies definition. Is it a unique snack creation, similar to the Funion? No, it’s definitely a chip. But is it a potato chip? Heavens, no! Then is it a simple corn chip? No, good sir! You are gravely mistaken!

You can no more define the Dorito than you can define love or beauty or consciousness. The tooth-reddening cheese powder, the perfectly-triangular shape, the little black peppercorns or singe marks or whatever those are—every facet of the Dorito is a flavorful mystery of the universe.

For eons, man respected the Dorito and did not tamper with its taste-defying state. But then, foolishly, man began to meddle with the Dorito.

It started innocently enough. Frito-Lay released spicy nacho Doritos and the ever-satisfying cool ranch Doritos. Emboldened by these successes, man began further meddling with the simple pleasure that was the Dorito. And then, one day, man released this:

guacamole doritos

Guacamole. Doritos. Guacamole is not meant for Doritos! Guacamole adds flavor to normal corn chips! And Doritos are the furthest thing from—

corn doritos

No…no…they didn’t. They brought the mighty Dorito down to the level of a simple corn chip. That’s like hiring Beethoven to write a jingle for a deodorant commercial!

And the heretics at Frito-Lay didn’t stop there. They made salsa Verde-flavored Doritos, chile-and-lime-flavored Doritos, Chipotle barbecue-flavored Doritos, tapatío-flavored Doritos, spicy sweet chili-flavored Doritos, ranch-dipped chicken wing-flavored Doritos, and enchilada-flavored Doritos.

They made taco-flavored Doritos. Then they made a taco using a giant Dorito as a shell. Then they made Doritos that are supposed to taste like the tacos that use giant Doritos as shells.

taco taco doritos


Once again, mankind in its foolishness has taken something simple and good and pure and twisted it to its own perverted purposes. The noble Cheez-it, the humble Skittle, the gallant Oreo—all were once simple pleasures and are now lost in a sea of gimmick flavors and orange, Halloween-themed frosting.

So heed my words. It is not our place to tinker with such immortal foodstuffs. Are we not but mere men?

We must make our voices heard now. Before the beef jerky-flavored Cracker Jacks and kung pow chicken laffy taffy rear their ugly heads.

The Skittles Caste System

The first step toward healing is admitting that you have a problem. So here goes: I believe in the Skittles Caste System. I know all you enlightened, forward-thinking, pour-all-the-Skittles-in-your-mouth-at-the-same-time types must think me cruel and uncultured, but I can’t help it. When I open a bag of Skittles, my first reaction is to start judging each little piece of candy, solely by its color. It’s just how I think.

For many people, a bag of Skittles is a collection of delicious candies, which are all of equal value. For me, each bag contains an intricate caste system. Each little piece of candy has its own place in the Skittles social order.
The top caste includes the red and purple skittles. These are the lords of deliciousness whose sugary feet the other Skittles are not worthy to kiss. The Skittles of the top caste have the privilege eaten last, and I savor every moment they dance on my tongue.

The yellow and orange Skittles make up the middle caste. These are the backbone of Skittles society; without them, the Skittles of the top caste would be alone in the bag, having no inferior beings to compare themselves to. Essentially, the middle-caste Skittles are needed to round out the bag and cleanse the palate between the consumption of the lower-class Skittles and those of the upper-class.

Which brings us to the bottom caste, reserved for the shunned and reviled green Skittles. These little vermin are eaten first so as to get them out of the way. I used to think there was no place for green Skittles in polite society, and that they should be cast out like the dogs that they are.

My Skittles habits even compel me to separate my Skittles by color. After all, I can’t have one of the unclean green Skittles touching one of the superior red Skittles. Such an action would be vile and unacceptable. Instead, I separate my skittles into neat, little piles. Then and only then, when the Skittles are racially separated as they should be, are they ready for consumption.

My Skittles Caste System is shameful. It’s only recently that I’ve begun to understand and sympathize with the plight of the green Skittles. And I’ve actually found an organization prepared to help. So please, give generously to the Skittles Relief Fund. For just pennies a day, you can give a green Skittle an education, feed his family, and help him rise above the constraints of his sugary society.

Remember, it’s not easy being green.