Much like
the California Raisins, spokescandies are
doomed little snack foods who are
anthropomorphized and then forced to convince others to eat them.
The most famous spokescandies may be the Red, Green, and Yellow M&M, who have even been in Superbowl commercials - heck, they've even tasted each other in an attempt to convince us of how luscious they are. Others, like Mr. Tic Tac, were dreamed up and then aborted on the cutting-room floor.
Sasha Gabba Hey! notes that Gogurt ads portray the artificial yogurt treat as "some fruity stuff in a tube that little kids are supposed to eat for recess. They get excited about having their heads ripped off and their guts sucked out. Their words, not mine.
Talking M&Ms I can take, but I find those things kind of disturbing."
As James Lileks of lileks.com points out, "What's noteworthy - and slightly touching, in a way - is that (these mascots) identify with (their) captors more than (their) own kind. It's not unusual for this manifestation of the Stockholm Syndrome to be found in mascots - Charlie the Tuna is perhaps the most notable example. A sure sign of this mental disorder is the adoption of human dress."
Breakdancing, top-hatted, cane-twirling Mr. Peanut is the mascot of all mascots, by that standard, and the predecessor of our spokescandies. You might say there's a little Mr. Peanut inside of every great big talking M&M... or at least the yellow one.
And -- as Ouroboros points out -- if Mr. Peanut serves as the beginning of this tragic line, the "meet the meat" scene at the Restaurant at the End of the Universe, (with its talking cow begging diners to try a rib), must conclude it. Fortunately, most candy companies have chosen to spare us the sight of a Charlie the Tuna, Mr. Happy Egg or the even stranger Mr. and Mrs. Corn-Soya insisting that we eat them. However, with the success of the animated M&Ms, the sky may be the limit.