Why doesn't my Dad have time for me?

Remember when Laffy Taffy candies used to come in little square chunks? When they were wrapped up in their different flavor-related colors and they had jokes on the insides?

Well, I do.

Laffy Taffys used to, and quite possibly still may, be made in Bloomington, IL, the twin city of my hometown, Normal. We ate a LOT of these things growing up.

My story starts with my friend Mark and our YoungLife leader Amy. I was in high school. At this point, the Laffy Taffy writers must have gone on strike because they were printing jokes that kids had sent in. I don't remember the time or place, but I do remember the joke I read on the inside of this particular culinary delight.

"Why doesn't my dad have time for me?" one kid wrote.

"Because he's a real estate developer and has lots on his mind."

I had to read it over about six times. They actually printed that! This poor kid, completely ignored by his father, is so lonely that he has to reach out to a CANDY COMPANY!! Oh, the indignity. I burned with a holy wrath. A righteous anger. I read it to my friends and cursed the day the bittersweet words Laffy and Taffy found eachother. Finally, I vowed to write the company a letter.

Well.... I never did. I meant to, but, you know... A couple years later, again I have forgotten the time and place so let's say "Cleveland at noon", I ended up with a couple Laffy Taffys. My conscience fought hard, but the juicy goodness fought harder and I ate them. As I was reading the jokes, again sent in by kids, my blood turned cold. The same joke. Years later they were still printing this same brokenhearted tale.

And then I got it. It's kind of funny.