Bubblegummy bears

what a week

Hi, clowns!

Looks like we all made it to the end of the week. Barely. Normally Friday’s pieces are for paid subscribers, but it sort of feels like a moment where we just need to look at each other, shake our heads in unison, and laugh, because things can’t get much dumber, can they?

(Don’t answer that.)

So I figured I’d just send out two free editions of the newsletter in a row, because why the fuck not? It’s a living shrine to mayhem anyway. Might as well eat it.

If you recall, earlier this week I made some really stupid gummy bears, flavored with baby food, using a kit I found at the mall.

Then, like an asshole dad, I fed them to the cats.

I asked you guys if you had any ideas for other flavors. One of you (hi, @Sawkinator) suggested I make carbonated gummy bears, which is a great idea. But I am still angry at my Sodastream for dying after I carbonated raw fish with it. And reader

David Conison

suggested “Bubblegummy bears,” which didn’t hit me at first until I said it out loud.

Go ahead. You say it out loud too.

Now you understand.

I started by dumping a bunch of unflavored gelatin powder into some tepid water.

I’m sorry, did I say gelatin? The package says “gelatine.” That means it’s the classy shit.

Then I unwrapped a whole package of Hubba Bubba bubblegum and tossed it into the gelatinized water.

I used to love Hubba Bubba when I was a kid. I was terrible at blowing bubbles, but I liked the tart way it tasted right when you first started chewing on it. Now the idea of chewing the same wad of gum for hours grosses me out. Like, come on, man, you’re just chewing on the same piece of what’s essentially flavored rubber for hours. What are you, some sort of cow?!

Thank you, that’s the end of my set. If you want to look me up, my name is Jerry Seinfeld and I have hundreds of cars.

I let the pieces of Hubba Bubba simmer on low heat for around 10 minutes while stirring regularly.

Eventually it started disintegrating into little bits and the liquid began to look somewhat terrible. I mean, there were bits of synthetic food-grade rubber floating around in it, after all.

Then there was the smell.

I put my face over the saucepan and realized that it smelled just like the entrance of a Bath and Body Works, which was mildly terrifying.

At first it smelled okay, kind of cute, almost like a scented toy. Then after I took a deep whiff of it, I realized just how bizarre an artificial scent really is, especially when it’s in vapor form that’s being directly delivered to your faceholes.

The fake watermelon smell just sort of dials up that tangy note from a fresh watermelon, erases the rest of it, then punches it straight up your ass. It’s almost as if modern food science figured out how to tell nature to fuck off directly to its face. Impressive.

I let the Hubba Bubba liquid cool off for a spell while I sat down on the couch and scrolled through the magic that’s currently happening on Twitter.

I am sure you all know, but the sheer amount of chaos on that website is more than my puny brain can handle right now. If the whole thing caves in, there’s going to be a whole lot of people going through weird social media withdrawal (myself fully included).

Like, where else am I going to tell Scott toilet paper company that I’m really passionate about how their single ply teepee rips while I use it? I also once asked Chipotle how many hard boiled eggs I had to lodge up my ass before I was awarded with one of their “Celebrity Cards,” which allows someone to permanently eat for free. I never did get an answer to that question.

I went back, gave the mixture a vigorous stir, and piped that shit up.

It’s weirdly soothing filling up all those little molds.

I knew that soon I would have an army of bubblegummy bears ready to do my bidding, and I let them sleep in the fridge overnight.

The next day I tried pulling one out of the mold and I discovered that all of them were holding hands and decided to come out together.

How cute! I could hear them screaming as I pulled them apart.

Well, it turns out that simmering bubble gum does release its flavor into the water, because the gummy bears had a very strong artificial watermelon flavor to them.

Davida had one and immediately refused any more, while I ate a few extra and cackled by the kitchen island. I guess you really can turn anything into a gummy bear with enough gelatin, or gelatine, shall I say. There’s nothing like turning any flavor you want into a cute little chewy bear. Maybe I’ll do gasoline next.

I have to say, making the bubblegummy bears was weirdly soothing. When all of social media burns down, maybe that’ll be how I waste my time from now on. I can heat up the gummy bear liquid right over its embers.

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This might seem like a futile gesture, but this is usually where I ask you guys to share my Substack newsletter on social media. It helps grow the newsletter, while the platforms are still somewhat usable, at least. (Or do the old-fashioned thing and forward it to your mom via email.)

Heh. I don’t have plans on launching this fucking thing in the metaverse, but that would be pretty funny.

And of course, don’t forget to upgrade to a paid subscription. Substack’s moving quickly to becoming an even more useful platform these days, but unlike Twitter’s weird new $8 fee, your subscription actually does something, as in, it keeps Food is Stupid alive. And me, too.

As a subscriber you get a hefty dose of exclusive content almost every week, whether it’s in the form of recipes, extra shit, or just plain old fucking around. And if you’re just joining me now, once you sign up, there’s over three years of shit to browse at foodisstupid.substack.com. That’s a lot to binge upon.

Okay. Better let you go now. Next week I’m going to be announcing another giveaway, so keep your eyes peeled. As always, I love you all, and I’ll hop into your inboxes soon. Go log off the computer and take a nice long walk or something.