Human innovation hinges on boundary-pushing and imagination. Some of the world's greatest and most essential innovations came from creative and forward-thinking visionaries who never stopped asking questions: Could cast iron be used for cookware instead of weaponry? Is there a more efficient way to eat your greens? Could other classic candies continue to be improved and reinvented the way Nerds Gummy Clusters have been?
For every success, countless failures remind us that progress doesn't happen overnight — if at all: Frankly, that's okay. With the rapidly evolving advertising and entertainment landscapes, it only makes sense that the desire for forward momentum has accelerated. But sometimes (many, many times), that pressure comes at the expense of the voices of reason. Here, the best, worst, and just generally alarming food collaborations that encapsulate the very weird cultural moment we're in right now. Some of them defy any description beyond "I had to see this, so you do too." So, uh, you're welcome?
Lunchly: MrBeast and Logan Paul
The Vibe: An avoidable disaster so chaotic it could be a Netflix property
As a committed viewer of The Ultimatum: Queer Love, I would be lying if I said there wasn't an arresting allure in watching a figurative trainwreck happen in real time. We got our first tastes of this last year when influencers KSI and Logan Paul launched a sports drink, Prime Hydration — and almost immediately drew concerns over its caffeine content and lawsuits over deceptive marketing. Undaunted by this track record, YouTuber MrBeast (who was recently named in a lawsuit alleging that his competition show subjected the participants to exploitation and sexual harassment) partnered with Paul to release a Lunchables competitor called Lunchly, composed of a bottle of Prime, a small chocolate bar from MrBeast's Feastables line, and thinly veiled rips on Lunchables's signature pizzas, nachos, and meat and crackers. Unfortunately, the collaboration drew criticism after another famous YouTuber, Rosanna Pansino of Nerdy Nummies, claimed that the boxes of Lunchly she ordered all contained alarming amounts of mold. (She later published the unedited footage of her opening the boxes she'd ordered on camera.)
Wicked
The Vibe: Defying gravity… and audience's appetites
If you've ever been within a 50-mile radius of a theater kid, then you've most likely heard the butchered belting of the Wicked soundtrack, the Broadway titan born from Gregory Maguire's four-book series The Wicked Years. But, recently, the franchise has become better known for putting Barbenheimer to shame with its expansive, inescapable, and increasingly gross marketing campaign. There have been some huge wins, from its partnership with Taiwanese restaurant chain Din Tai Fung on a green-toned menu, and a charming and disarmingly funny ad with Bowen Yang and Matt Rogers of the Las Culturistas podcast promoting the forthcoming remake (in which Yang appears). Cute! But what goes up must come down, even if the lyrics disagree, and nothing better captures the sentiment like the movie's branded instant mac and cheese, laced with artificial coloring to take your nostalgic comfort meal into a mold-hued, bile-conjuring shade of green so off-putting I needed to step outside after first seeing it. I'm so sorry, Elphaba, you deserved so much better.
Pepsi Peeps and Coca-Cola Oreos
The Vibe: A pitch meeting attended exclusively by people who hate children, don't have them, or both
Some partnerships are so perfect in their conception that the only questions social media commenters can ask is, "How did I not know I needed this before now???" Others make it clear that the company in question is really just trying to see what sticks. In a social media era of atrocious food stunts, hollowed-out pickle sandwiches, and Sprite-soaked gummy bear hacks, anything is possible. It's astounding how quickly that once inspirational line became a threat. Just don't make me eat the hyper-sweet spiced marshmallows and the red-and-black Oreos. That would be my distinct hell.
Smoothie King and Ozempic
The Vibe: The 2000s are so back — along with the awful diet culture integrations
No, this is not an Andy Cohen-produced Real Housewives gag. The smoothie chain has long collaborated with dieticians and other players allegedly in the wellness space to create smoothie offerings that can support customers as they pursue their personal health goals, from reeling in blood sugar, supplementing their "healthier" diets, and reaching their weight loss goals. In an ideal world, this kind of support and care for people with diabetes and other serious concerns about how they take care of their bodies could be a great opportunity to provide some slight semblance of equity for people who might not be able to afford a traditional doctor's appointment to get Ozempic, Wegovy, and similar medications.
In real life, this feels more akin to a thinly veiled opportunity to revel in recreational Ozempic rather than meet a medical need through a smoothie with an eye-popping amount of sweetener.
Cinnamon Toast Crunch and Hormel
The Vibe: TikTok-fueled, State Fair-themed brain rot
At the risk of sounding a thousand years old, I need to step in and say what's on the mind of everyone older than 12: Why? We've been inundated with so-called millionaire bacon and bacon humor since the early 2010s at least, along with the many other monikers for what is essentially just candied bacon sprinkled with cinnamon. But at this point, these appeals to an imagined shared American childhood need to go the way of the awful finger mustache tattoo.
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