This bag of Tootsie Rolls contains 760 of the awful little turds, and I guarantee you that not one of them is going to even be unwrapped unless a diabetic man begins to go into shock and falls on the floor next to one. They’re not chocolate, they’re not hard candy, they’re not soft candy.

One reviewer notes “Took my husband 2 weeks to finish the bag.” Yeah, because he didn’t want to throw the whole thing in the trash at once, because that would make you feel bad.

But Tootsie Rolls aren’t the worst. Tootsie Roll Fruit Rolls were apparently designed by a cruel man or woman at Tootsie Roll who, as they watched the machines in their candy factory churn and thrash, thought “Tootsie Rolls taste too good.”

This Halloween costume is an orange jumpsuit with a prosthetic boner. I’ve done you the favor of cropping the image, but you can click through to the full picture if you’re wondering what the boner looks like.

What is the most depressing Halloween candy treat? This year, it’s a pumpkin bucket that is pre-filled with a “perfect mix” of candy.

InstaMorph is a jar full of polycaprolactone pellets. It’s actually pretty useful and fun. You can reuse it pretty much infinitely and it’s great for making little hooks and stands.

Why, then, is it here? Because SOME GUY USED IT TO REPLACE HIS TOOTH. (Picture behind the link.)

This is a Cookie Monster costume. It’s probably not licensed by Sesame Street, but it looks like Cookie Monster.

This, too, is a Cookie Monster costume. It requires less commitment than the full-body suit, but clearly, still Cookie Monster.

This is also a Cookie Monster costume.

This, however, is not a Cookie Monster costume. It’s described as “Cookie Monster Costume” but it’s a blue dress with a Cookie Monster hairpiece. It’s styled to show off your toddler’s legs, because that’s what’s important, right? Boys can dress up like Cookie Monster, and girls can dress up like a dress. Never mind that it’s forty degrees and probably raining at the end of October. Get them legs out there in the cold so we can see ‘em.

Of course, if your daughter doesn’t like Cookie Monster, you can always put her in an Elmo dress. Or a Big Bird dress. The possibilities are limitless, unless you’re a girl, in which case the possibilities are dresses.

The joke, never quite funny, and already taken too far, now takes on a more sinister edge. We are now trapped in our bacon future. Everything smells dead, salty, crispy. Nothing is untainted by the scent, the texture, the colors of hog-drippings. The animals eat our trash, and we eat them, and we are the trash. “Throw us away,” we shout in unison, and history obliges.