A staple of this spooky time of year is the candy— whether you trick-or-treat, or just go in for the bargain bin on Nov. 1, the sweets are seemingly omnipresent. But some are better than others. (Who hasn’t grumbled when given a crappy expired knockoff gummy with an eyeball on the package but not the candy, or made sure to loop around the block twice to hit the house with the king-size Hershey’s again?). This Halloween, it is my duty to stir the proverbial cauldron and rank which tops what. 

My number one personal favorite, despite the “bland” reactions I very reliably receive upon revealing this, is 3 Musketeers. Yes, it is a Milky Way but lamer. But it is less messy, doesn’t ever have a stale faux caramel problem in the style of its much cooler cousin, and also, nobody else ever prioritizes them, so I get nonstop wins when my group divides up candy post-trick-or-treating. It’s the boring-white-guy-with-too-many-golf-shirts-who-can’t-actually-golf of candies, and by Jove I am not golfing. 

Generally speaking, I feel, in most cases, it is reasonable to rank chocolate above the vague “other” category of candy, hallmarked with classics such as Sour Patch (Kids) and, uh, other stuff, probably. Some people do not like chocolate, which is already an interesting stance to hold, so I will not be catering to that audience. That leads me to the second item on the list: Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups. 

I am a firm believer in the classics, which is why I will immediately strike down, in a Palpatine-esque manner, any of the (numerous) newfangled “twists” on Reese’s that they keep coming up with. I do not want there to be bits in there. I do not care if there is crunch. Get out of here with your cereal, which I do not even eat at breakfast time. My one exception is the peanut butter cup Minis— that is just the same thing but small, and I am a huge proponent of making things that are good when big, small. 

Twix can be third, because if I am being honest, once I eat the 3 Musketeers and the Reese’s (regular or mini) peanut butter cups, I am done. But a Twix does occasionally hit, and I can appreciate that. 

M&Ms are fun to munch on if you have no other munchable options and are not deterred by a stupid imbalance between candy coating and chocolate insides. Milky Way and Snickers occupy the same space in my mind, which is to say, not a meaningful one. I have nothing against them; they simply carry no weight. 

Various gummies (of name-brand status only) have their place. I will always go for a good gummy worm and can be swayed by a bear. Lifesavers gummies and Sour Patch are also not bad if you are in the mood. 

Now, please picture a humongous, Mariana-Trench-like gap between that last item and what I am about to discuss. We are rocketing down to the ghastly abyss of the list. 

Licorice. Insane people seek out licorice. That may be strong, but I am not here to hold hands. I have, additionally, been biding my time (until now!) to conflate Swedish Fish, in both texture and general taste, with licorice; they are both, like, fine–if you are starving to death and there is no other food left in the whole world. It’s a little generous to call licorice “food,”, though. 

Candy corn is often an intense divider of men, but I simply do not think about candy corn. If it is there, I will have some; if it is not, I will not. 

Happy Halloween, fellas. Stay safe, stay happy and if you like licorice, I will simply look away.