Reese’s candies, ranked

First, putting Reese’s Mini Cups on top is buying alcohol in tiny bottles when what you want is a handle of gin. You are not making an elevated, principled argument about proper chocolate-to-peanut-butter ratios. You are not performing delicate chemistry, or sounding like a gourmand getting fubsy with your peanut butter and chocolate candy requirements. Reese’s Mini Cups are packaged in three things: paper, foil, and denial. “I just eat one,” says a liar who ate twenty-two of them in a sitting when two or three regular Reese’s Cups would have done.

Mini Cups are LIES. Reese’s Cups are the fatty, insulin-spiking power of whole, unminiaturized truth.

Second: Reese’s pieces aren’t even in the Reese’s family, since they involve at best only trace amounts of chocolate. If you like instrumental tracks without the vocals and bread sandwiches, Reese’s Pieces are for you. Otherwise if you want the whole promised concept, opt for Minis or the actual Cups. WHICH ARE DELICIOUS, RYAN. Additionally, you’re stating something is better without chocolate, which is impossible under several variations on natural law.

P.S. Don’t even come in here with White Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups. They are not canon, and might as well be candle wax wrapped around peanut butter.