Self-evident: Necco wafers are awful.

Awful. Just awful.

Photo: Necco

When it comes to products, there must be a certain security in being terrible. Even if your product is so terrible that most people won’t come near it, that means that some people will love it, and those people will have a hard time finding such terrible options anywhere else, so they’ll be your customers for life. Sure, eventually they’ll die, but there’ll still be a tiny population of people who actually find your product appealing, so you’ll never totally go out of business. It seems like a comfortable place to be as a businessperson. So why would you mess with a good thing?

A little while ago, the world’s leading manufacturer of awful candy, the New England Candy Company, or Necco, decided to fiddle withthe recipe for its disgusting Necco wafers, switching to natural colors and flavors. Because apparently, artificial colors and flavors were keeping Necco from capturing the wider bad candy market.  How many of us have said to ourselves, “Well, I want a candy that tastes like slightly sweetened dried drywall mud, but darn it, I don’t want all those icky chemicals!” or “Why can’t I get a clove-flavored candy that makes communion wafers seem tasty, but colored purple with beet juice extract instead of red #6?” Because, you know, the purple Necco wafers are clove-flavored. Clove.

This didn’t go over well. Apparently, there are Necco wafer enthusiasts who actually eat this so-called candy, and don’t just buy them to give to teenage trick-or-treaters or shingle the roof of a gingerbread house. And they don’t just eat them: they like them! They like them so much that they assailed Necco with complaints until they got the original recipe reinstated. Even worse – they stopped buying them! Sales fell 35%. I guess Necco doesn’t sell enough of their other terrible candy – mary janes, conversation hearts – to be able to withstand that kind of blow, so back they went.  

 I never realized that people actually ate Necco wafers until I moved to New England. I thought that they were only useful for projects, like gingerbread houses, where the goal was to make everything edible, even if only technically. Necco wafers are the kind of candy that passed for candy before there was good candy. Like hoarhound candy and anything molasses-flavored: these are the candies of the beforetimes, before Milton Hershey was born. There is no longer a need for these candies. Necco wafers, ribbon candies that come in a can, pillow mints. They should be eliminated from our collective human consciousness. But at my local market they sell them right next to the tasty candy, and someone must be buying them, right? Just like someone must be drinking Moxie. (That is, outside of the stateof Maine, where they use it to tell the native Mainers from the outsiders.)

Read and laugh: check out this article that claims Necco wafers have health benefits, due to the beet juice and purple cabbage and turmeric and stuff. (Someone needs to tell Livestrong that they’re going back to non-nature.)

Lists!

Lists! I love ‘em. Bulleted, numbered, whatever. They break things down and make them easy to understand. In general, the world confuses and alarms me, but when bits and pieces are presented to me in list form, it’s a little less threatening. The media has long since figured out that people like me are much more likely to pay attention to a story when it’s be-listed, and even more so when there are pictures involved! Pretty, soothing pictures…

Lately I’ve noticed an influx of “best state” and “worst state” lists, especially over on Bundle.com, which comes through on the picture angle as well. I always check lists out immediately to see where Rhode Island ranks. Because you know that if they could get away with it, the listmakers would just exclude the Ocean State entirely, because who cares? And really, can comparing anything about Rhode Island with, say, anything about California be considered statistically significant, even if you’re operating on a per-capita basis? The answer is no. And yet, we’re a state, so you have to include us. Ha! High five, Delaware.

Unfortunately, it seems like Rhode Island rarely wins in any of these list-based contests. And oftentimes, if we do win, it’s entirely erroneous: you’ll remember that a while back, we were considered one of thebest states to retire to and one of the best to be a commuter in. Both statements, of course, are lies. But what else are lists informing (or misinforming) the rest of the world about when it comes to Rhode Island? Let’s review. In list form.

• We rank 9th in the nation in monthly auto expenses. This actually might make sense, as it's kind of hard to rack up a lot of highway miles in a state this small. Also, foot-deep potholes, gigantic metal plates, and the most dangerous drivers outside of Italy are daily facts of life here, and they really wear out an automobile. Do you know what they do about potholes here? They don't fix them. No, if they do anything, they plop a cone in them. Do you know when you realize there's a cone in a pothole? When you're driving through that pothole, because most of the time it's just shy of cone-deep. It's only a matter of time before I have to replace one or both axles on my car.

• We are the 4th most expensive state in which to have a baby. Note how, on the infographic, the Rhode Island piece looks nothing like Rhode Island. No graphic designer is going to bother with all the islands, and honestly, how many people are going to know it's wrong? Moving on. While I don't dispute most of these costs, I would like to meet the person who pays $77 per month for school and childcare. Did the statistician responsible for these numbers figure in the childcare spending of people who don't have children? Because having a bunch of zeroes in the mix is the only way I can see $77 being right. I have a child in daycare, and $77 is accurate only if you add a zero and double it.

• There are only 15 states worse for business than Rhode Island. I really have no first-hand knowledge of this. I only know that it's a big point of left/right contention, with one side complaining that no one wants to do business in this state because of all of the taxes, and the other side telling them to shut the hell up. I do know, however, that we are considered better than New Jersey, which, you know: duh.

• Speaking strictly in terms of sexual health (and who doesn't?), we have some of the halest and sickest college students in the nation. Hallowed statistics factory Trojan and something called Sperling's BestPlaces came up with a sexual health report card, and, wouldn't you know it, Brown came in at number #4. Providence College, on the other hand, came in at #134 out of a total 140 schools. It's not that big of a surprise, given that Brown invites you to a campus-wide sex party during freshman orientation, while Jesuit PC requires mean old Sister Mary Mansname to accompany you on all of your dates, where she tells you constantly how much you disgust her and God.

• Lest you think that Rhode Island is number one in no category, be comforted: the Ocean State is #1 in suicide plans and attempts! Yeah! Suck it, everyone else. Wait. That's... that's terrible. God, that's depressing.

But you know what? I question the methodology of all of these lists. (Except the suicide one, which was done by the CDC, which... you know what? Just go with me on this anyway.) Know why? Look at this one about how much people in each state spend per capita at candy shops. Rhode Island doesn't even crack the top 20, but we're also not in the bottom 10. But candy... shops? This isn't about a population's penchant for sweets, as the title claims. This is more about the states in which candy shops survive. And even where they do, how many people are going to pay $20 a pound for handmade sel de mer caramels when they can go to the supermarket and get eighty pounds of M&Ms for ten bucks? Not many people, that's who. You know who's at the very bottom of this list? Mississippi. Tennessee. Other deep south states. You're going to tell me people down there don't have sweet, um, teeth? Have you been there? Parts of North Carolina make the the jolly, cheese-loving people of Wisconsin look downright svelte. My point is: I take these lists, even the pretty ones, with a grain of salt. Except when I agree with them.

It's official: ProJo = feh.

Look, I admit it: I have a lot of fun poking fun at the Providence Journal, but that’s only because it’s terrible. It misses stories other outlets in the state pick up (and in a state this small, that’s pretty much inexcusable), and half the time its journalism – if you can call it that – is inflammatory rhetoric intended only to provoke its army of crazy commenters. I mean, you can’t run the headline “Rep. David N. Cicilline, in danger of losing his seat in Congress, is running his campaign checkbook like there's no tomorrow” under a “NEWS” header. It’s someone’s opinion, complete with hyperbole. It’s news like Us Magazine is news. Also, the ProJo’s website has been obstinately holding onto its 1998-style website like it thought that style might come back around someday.* You know, the style people favored before the internet started to figure itself out: almost impossible to navigate, completely impossible to search, has ads everywhere, and leaves stories from ten months ago in sidebars to make them look like they’re fresh.

So imagine my surprise this morning when I clicked over to the ProJo site to see what, if anything, was going on (and something was!), and I found a clean and somewhat streamlined site that sort of makes sense, kind of! Even if it’s a little over-simplified, but whatever. Oh happy day! But what prompted the change? Was it a publication finally realizing that to serve its stated purpose to inform and educate its city’s citizens about what’s going on in their world, it had to do so in a way that was actually accessible and marginally cohesive?

Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha no. Of course not.

"Like other major newspapers across the country, we've come to the realization that giving away our content free is not a sound business plan," said Howard G. Sutton, publisher, president and chief executive officer of The Providence Journal. At first, the eEdition will be free to all web users, to allow them to see how it works. "People can experiment with it," Sutton said. After about a month, a paid subscription will be needed to view the eEdition. Those who subscribe to the printed newspaper seven days a week will receive access to the eEdition at no additional cost. Those with less-than-daily subscriptions will have to pay a nominal fee for the eEdition. Subscriptions only to the eEdition will also be offered.

So, to recap: reading the ProJo online will now cost money. Actual American money. Okay. That’s…. well, hold on. How much money are we talking about?

Pricing has not been set for any of those options. The Journal plans to offer an option to buy single copies of the eEdition, but is still working out technological issues, Sutton said.

Oh, for crying out... All right. You know, what, ProJo? You are fired. You are fired. You think you’re the only terrible paper in Rhode Island? Think again. Your headlines are barely better than this, and that’s in a paper that’s free (although sometimes I think they should pay me to read it). Good luck to you, ProJo, and may all your crazy commenters who’d rather die than pay for content find another outlet for their crazy craziness. 

* It won't.

Stop it, Maine.

One of the things I love about Rhode Island is its close proximity to Maine, where I had the pleasure of spending most of this past weekend. I love Maine. It's beautiful. I don't care too much for seafood, but I do love blueberries and maple syrup, and if I could manage to outfit my home and myself in nothing but LL Bean, I'd do it. But dangit if Maine doesn't have the crankiest people in the world living in it. They make me seem cheerful by comparison. And I love them.

To Mainers, you are either from Maine, or from "away," which includes all geographical points not in Maine. Maine is a state that relies heavily on tourism dollars, and they want you to come and spend them, but then they want you to get the hell out. In fact, there are more than a few Mainers who want to be able to tell you to get the hell out of their country, not just their state. That's right: there are Maine secessionists! Some want to join Canada, some want to be their own country outright, and some just want to split off from the rest of Maine.

I find that a lot of people have kind of a skewed picture of Maine, that's it's all Boothbay Harbor and Freeport. Not true. It has more snowmobilers and hunters than Martha Stewarts for sure. The town I spent my weekend in, Ogunquit, is pretty far on the hoity-toity end of the spectrum, but it still has the fine get-lost spirit of the rest of the state. Even the beautiful, seasonal displays, all awash in mums and squash and whimsical Halloween imagery have it:

In case it's too small, it says "Yes, they are real, do not touch." (Insert your own stupid joke here.)

I think my favorite sight in all of Ogunquit has to be this wall, though. It's the perfect metaphor for Maine. Beautiful, rugged, picturesque... but don't get comfortable.

Don't tread sit on me.

That Alec Baldwin. He's all right.

Was that so hard?

See? I knew things were going to start looking up for Central Falls. Today the Providence Journal reported that Alec Baldwin is tossing the Central Falls library $10,000 from his charitable foundation. Ever one to look a gift horse in the mouth, I initially thought this was chump change, it's actually a pretty sizable gift, given how Mr. Baldwin chooses to give his money away. His foundation is a pass-through; that is,  instead of having a big, big wad of money and only giving away what the government requires every year, like a lot of wealthy people do, he gives away practically everything he puts in it. And he gives it to a ton of different charities, instead of just one or two, which, again, a lot of rich people do. (Sorry for the philanthropy lesson. This is what I do for a living.) So... yay! Yay for Central Falls.

Apparently Jack Donaghy was moved to make the donation after reading this article in last Saturday's New York Times, which talked about a $100-a-head fundraiser for the library the night before. Depressingly, a library board member admitted that not many actual Central Falls residents were able to foot that kind of bill, but today's ProJo said the shindig managed to raise $15K.  But back to depressing: the ProJo thought it necessary to describe what the Hamptons are, since Baldwin is on the board of a library out there: "a popular beach resort on Long Island that caters to the rich and famous."  For heaven's sake. First of all, that's wrong. Second, does anyone out there really not know what the Hamptons are? Anybody?

So! Now all we need is for about a thousand more Alec Baldwins to send checks for ten grand, and Central Falls will be set. In the meantime, to show my appreciation, I'm going to rent Outside Providence. And watch it!

So are we Ogdenville or are we North Haverbrook?

I'd say we have more of a Brockway flavor.

Postscript on the whole Get Motivated! “traffic tsunami:” it never happened. Apparently only two-thirds of the expected 12,000 attendees showed up, and those 8,000 took the city’s advice to come early, carpool, or take the bus, because traffic was not only not heavy during yesterday’s rush hour, it was somehow lighter than usual. And Providence tried so hard! School was delayed, there were troopers all over the highway, and cops on every corner downtown to handle the influx of cars that never happened. So why did the city think 12,000 people were going to come to this thing? Because Get Motivated! told them so!

To add insult to injury, it seems that this Get Motivated! is even more of a scam than it looks to be on its smarmy face. It’s basically a day-long infomercial for some investment software, punctuated by bigshots telling you how to live your life. Tickets are $2 in advance, and when you give them your credit card number online, you’re also subscribing to said software for much, much more than $2, unless you opt out in writing by the Saturday before the conference. (If you show up at the door and want in, your ticket costs over $200.) Plus, you’re subjected to the decidedly non-comedic stylings of one Bill Cosby, who seems to have lost his damn mind:

Cosby wore a gray sweat suit with the words “Hello Friend” on his chest.

The Lord helps those who help themselves, Cosby said, but too many people forget the last three words.

“I’m not here to sell you God, I’m just here to tell you some good sense,” he said.

He told a story about Jesus meeting a supplicant who wants his high blood pressure cured.

“Don’t eat salt,” Jesus tells him.

The supplicant expected more — a healing touch, perhaps — and says he’s disappointed.

“Wait till you meet my father,” Jesus replies.

The moral? You are gonna die, salty. It's okay; so am I. All I ask is that you bury me in a gray sweat suit with “Hello Friend” written on the chest.