Not all fear and Skittles

There's so much bad news to dampen your joy. You wonder if we're not in the worst era ever. But no! Of course not. It's always a mixed bag. Stasis is an illusion; there was never a perfect golden age. The warp and woof of human dealings is shot through with dross and golden thread.

That said, I was absolutely rocked back on my heels by the news that the makers of Skittles candy had been sued. On top of everything, this. But why? Washington Post: "Skittles lawsuit claims 'toxin' makes them 'unfit for human consumption.' "

OK, now it is the worst era ever.

That gets your attention, if you've ever had a Skittle. The "toxin" in question is the alarmingly named titanium dioxide. For some reason, I thought titanium was rare and expensive, and hence unlikely to be used willy-nilly in a confection, but no. It's used to lend candy a "vibrant" hue. The the lawsuit notes that other bright candies, like the Sour Patch Kids and Swedish Fish, do not rely on titanium dioxide. I have no idea if you can find it in Willy-Nillys.

It makes you realize how things have changed: Back in the 1950s, ads would have been proud of the additive. Skittles! The only candy with Titanium Dioxide, for Brighting Action!

Whether they are more poisonous than other candies, I can't say. All I know is their advertising slogan:

Taste the Rainbow.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, the defendant would have you believe that you can, through the medium of Skittles, experience the flavor of an atmospheric phenomenon. What other assertions might the candy industry make? Sweet Tarts: Hear the partly-cloudy skies? Zagnut bars: Smell the blizzard? Can the defendant prove that an individual Skittle has a flavor that aligns with the hue on the great arch of light that appears when the storm has passed? They cannot. Can the defendant prove that the rainbow itself, a sign some say from God that vouchsafed the occupants of the Ark as it moored on Mount Ararat, has a flavor? If God did not assign a flavor to the rainbow, who, I ask, is Skittle to say they can?"

Then the defense gets up. He's a bit rumpled, and seems to be amused, pretending to be a bit confused. (He is Jimmy Stewart.)

"Now, my colleague there, fine man, would have you believe that Skittles actually said they tasted like rainbows. He said a lot of words but I think that was in there, somewhere. I don't know. I got lost when he talked about the Zagnut bars. Took me back to childhood, that did. My mother, she was partial to a Zagnut. Used to put them in the icebox. She'd take one out when she had a craving, the way your mom would when she thought she'd earned a little something special. As if she didn't earn it every day, with all she did.

" 'Jimmy," she'd say, 'it's just a little bite of heaven.' " Now I was just a child, and you know how it is, how you believe what your mother says, 'specially when it comes to heaven. Because you know she's going there. Her brother, Uncle Frank, we're not so sure, but we pray on it. Now, was my mother wrong? Was her little bit of a Zagnut a piece of heaven? Do we know what heaven tastes like? Smells like? Sounds like? No one does. So yes. I'll say it. Skittles may not taste like the rainbow."

(Murmurs in the spectator seating; judge bangs the gavel.)

I don't think this would actually make it to a jury trial. They'd settle, and change the slogan.

"Rainbow-enhancing elements contain a substance banned in the E.U. but not the U.K."