Your 3 Musketeers candy bar gets Toy Storied. Or something.

When I was real little my father had this beat up yellow Toyota pickup truck, a jalopy that I liked to call “Old Yeller.” It was junk on wheels, an old wreck so riddled with rust there were parts of the floor flaking off, so that you could see bits of the road passing under your seat. I remember three major things (hey…) about it. One, my father used to let me ride in the back when we’d go to the town dump, where I’d thrill at the simple childish pleasure of hurling bags of garbage into that Sarlacc Pit of refuse (now that I think of it, perhaps the back was safer than the rust-holed front). Two, I cried when it was sold. Three, the cab was always littered with shiny silver 3 Musketeers wrappers. Like spent shell casings on a dietary battlefield.

This is a roundabout way of getting to the notion that I can’t see 3 Musketeers advertising and not think of that old truck, and tangentially that my father might not have savored those countless candy bars so much if they had been marketed by a cutesy campaign like this one (pulled from the 1999 Batman: Bullock’s Law profiled yesterday). Or maybe he would have. That fluffy filling, which you can feel disintegrating your teeth on impact, can overcome a lot of objections.