Sometimes your favorite brands may wanna branch out into different regions of Flavortown, and sometimes those towns need their own Mayor; Ronald can't be policing every precinct of McDonaldland 24/7, and every menu item needs just as much attention as the McRib or Shamrock Shake. So these mini bosses , these mercenaries, these Winston Wolfs who specialize in their areas of tasty expertise showed up in our lives to let us know that there was blue drink and chocolate rice. And no one is above the law.
- Paul
Boppin' Berry
Hi-C
Artificial strawberry flavor is otherworldly when it comes to gum, licorice, gummies, or any kinda chewing enterprise, but in pure liquid drinking form, it can be belligerent and vexing. No matter, this is about the Boppin' Berry itself, the anthropomorphic fruit that resembles the severed head of Meshach Taylor as "Hollywood" from Mannequin with a keyboard that looked like a 16th century ruff around its neck. A slightly more sinister sibling of Mac Tonight (which is pretty badass) and obviously more closely related to Rockin' Apple (who was fortunate enough to have limbs).
Coco the Monkey
Kellogg's Cocoa Krispies
I don't know if Snap, Crackle, and Pop lost some kinda bidding war but in 1991 they relinquished representation of their choco-counterpart and we were suddenly saddled with Coco the Monkey. I wasn't a fan of of the monkey - the monkey had no personality or distinguishing features that allowed one to idolize him or cheer him on - he just gave off Poochie vibes. In 2001 we said goodbye to Coco and welcomed back the onomatopoeic elves (or gnomes or whatever) and life made a little more sense again.
Doublemint Twins
Wrigley's Doublemint Gum
Big Red had public fornicators. Juicy Fruit had skiers and surfers and shit. Doublemint had flirty twins - typically women, often in recurring roles. It's still my least favorite of the Wrigley family and it also had the least engaging jingle, but every iteration of the Twins and their otherworldly optimism was a lot sweeter and sexier than the gum itself.
Great Bluedini
Kool-Aid
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The Kool-Aid characters shoulda gotten their own Saturday Morning Cartoon, the end. Were that the case, this octopus magician would be given minimal screen time to keep you watching in the hopes he'd show up at some point and use some catchy magic spells or candy colored gadgets to dissolve this week's conflict. In the meantime, he represented blue, and if you were alive in the 1990s every form of blue consumable was an exciting and unique odyssey to be taken seriously.
The Happy Meal Gang
McDonald's
Hamburglar sold the hamburgers, Birdie sold the breakfast, Ronald sold the magic, and before he became a symbol of obesity, Grimace sold the Happy Meals. That is until around 1980 when the actual food & beverage items themselves took matters into their own googly-eyed containers and suddenly our paper cup had a personality. Infinitely more dynamic in their design than the humdrum McNugget Buddies, but when they all get together, it's an exciting (if not somewhat unsettling) edible arrangement.
Max Headroom
New Coke
I watched his cyberpunk TV show and found it to be confusing and dull. But him as a character, icon, spokesman, and cultural timestamp, I've always found him wildly likable. And I legitimately liked New Coke (or Coke II as I remember it) so despite the weight of this cliché it really was more than some nostalgia rigmarole -- I c-c-caught the wave!
Fido Dido
7up
For a clear soda this one's a little complicated. In the United States, 7up had Cool Spot, the red circle with arms and legs and sunglasses. And abroad they had Fido Dido, a Nick Toons-lookin' doodle who promoted laughably unrealistic proposals of peace, love, and understanding. At that time the U.S. division of PepsiCo didn't own 7up, so in America, Fido was the face of Slice -- quite the corporate whore for someone who declares "Fido is for Fido." In the end, Cool Spot had its own video game, Fido had his own underwear. They are not the same.
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