The Candymen

If you’ve been here long enough and you take the MTA subway for transportation, your train ride will ..periodically be interrupted by the following message:

Excuse me ladies and gentlemen, pardon the interruption. I’m selling candy for ______.

That blank line above will usually be basketball uniforms and equipment with nary a basketball, uniform, or school t-shirt in sight.  Some will say it keeps them off the streets and out of trouble. It’s followed by the price of the candy and a quick rundown of the what’s being sold.

I have no beef with the candymen. This is NYC aka Hustle City. Everyone seems to have one.  But why, oh why!, do they all sell the same thing?

No, I don’t want any Welch fruit snacks. No, I do not want any rock hard Famous Amos chocolate chip cookies. No shortbread cookies, please. No M&Ms. No, no, and no!

It doesn’t matter where I encounter the candymen they all are selling the same tired ass snacks.

Where’s the variety? Somebody has to know.

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