The

Mentos

Journal

Volume 1, Issue 1
November 27, 1995
(c) 1995, The Gathering

The Mentos Journal is maintained by the Core Six Pack of "The Gathering":

Jeff (Wayman@Mentos.com), Kevin (Kibble@Mentos.com),
Sean (Radagast@Mentos.com), Dave (Burgundy@Mentos.com)
Brian (Macleod@Mentos.com), and Stacey (Genie@Mentos.com).

and can be found on Chad's web site at www.mentosfaq.com


Welcome to the first installment of The Mentos Journal! The Mentos Journal will, hopefully, be a monthly posting of all of the best in Mentos FanFic, letters, anecdotes and quotes. The Gathering decided to create The Mentos Journal in order to provide you with a creative outlet. We've been getting forwards of dozens of excellent stories, some of which are in this issue. This is intended for use with the Mentos FAQ, but may be sold separately.

The Mentos Journal will be posted (along with the Mentos FAQ) in alt.tv.commercials, and rec.arts.tv. On the web, it can be found at Chad Jones' (cjones@mentosfaq.com) site:

A real-life account by Matthew Quirk (thinker@umich.edu)

As maintainers of the outstanding Mentos FAQ I am sending you this to warn you of a dangerous, perhaps lethal, combination.

I have been known on occasion to indulge in those pellets of perkiness known as Mentos (tm). My favorite flavor is Cinnamon, a taste which compliments that of my favorite beverage, Dr. Pepper.

Today at work I decided to combine the two in a more literal fashion. Seeking to spice up my drink, I added a single Mentos lozenge to my freshly opened two liter bottle of the good Doctor's fine drink. I was prepared for the usual reaction of a carbonated beverage has on encountering a highly sugar intensive substance, but I was not prepared for the sheer magnitude of the situation.

My office avoided complete disaster only because of my quick reflexes and the presence of a sink. The sheer magnitude of the reaction forced a full half of the mixture out of the bottle in the form of foam! I am sure that even if I had been able to force the cap back on the bottle, the bottle itself would have split from the cataclysmic power unleashed by mingling the Freshmaker and Dr. Pepper.

Let my experiment serve as an example to you all that it is possible to have too much of a good thing. DO NOT MIX DR. PEPPER AND MENTOS!!!


"The Car Movers (or 'Overalls and Mentos'): Whimsical, sugar-coated comedy or Amazing parallel to the 1917 Bolshevik Revolution?"

by Brian Sack (bsack@mindspring.com)

The "Car Movers" is a classic interpretation of the struggle between the Proletariat worker and the Bourgeois ruling class. Like Sergei Eisenstein's Battleship Potemkin, The Freshmaker has provided us with a depiction of the injustices suffered by the Working Class, and their subsequent confrontation with the Ruling Class.

In Potemkin, the enlisted man is the hero--representing the Worker, suffering unjustly from the savage treatment they receive from the Officers, who represent the Ruling Class. In Mentos, the working class is represented by a single heroine. Young, fresh and full of life. She drives a vehicle for utilitarian purposes only, unencumbered by the materialistic trappings of the elite. The car is ugly, compact, strangely colored, and by all accounts-- uncomfortable. Obviously, its purpose is simple: it functions as part of the State, where individual luxuries take a back seat. There is no room for selfish materialism in the New State. Like the hammer and sickle, it represents hard work, sweat, and the elements that contribute to the Communist State-- and the ultimate betterment of all people.

Enter the Bourgeois: His vehicle represents the extravagances of the Ruling Class. It is twice as large as the heroine's vehicle, and does not serve the State. Instead, it is a luxurious self-indulgence. Another example of the selfish, unfreshness of the wealthy, and the exploitation of the poor. By parking his car in such a way as to inhibit the motion of the heroine's communist utility vehicle, he drives home a point that is far from subtle: These Bourgeois luxuries impede the growth of the People's State.

Our heroine protests. Nonviolently, at first. She attempts to convince the elitist upper class that their selfish ways prevent the growth of a true People's State. Her pleas fall on deaf ears however, and in a coup-de-grace, he motions to his watch. The message: The unfresh Bourgeois state will last forever.

This, of course, sets the revolution in motion. And there is symbolism a-plenty. In Potemkin, the workers are driven to mutiny in part by the rotten bread and meat forced upon them by the Officers. In Mentos, food products again becomes a catalyst for revolt--by eating Mentos, she brings renewed vigor to her cause.

With the injustices of the Ruling Class before her, and Mentos on her breath, our heroine (symbolizing Mother Russia, matron of the Worker's Party) rises to the occasion. She rallies her comrades in arms. Clad in overalls and working on a construction site, they are the embodiment of the Working Class. Under the heroine's leadership, the revolution flows ahead smoothly: There is no power struggle here-- All the workers unite to achieve their goal of a People's State.

Even more stark symbolism: The Bourgeois ruling class, their back turned to the workers, fails to see the revolution coming. When finally, the antagonist realizes his fate, it is too late: The workers have rallied, and with the machinery of the People's State set in motion, have overcome their obstacles. The ruling class no longer represents a threat to the progress of the Worker's Party. Our heroine turns to the now deposed Ruling Class, and in a final gesture of solidarity, shows him her Mentos-- a gesture that will no doubt linger in the minds of viewers forever. As memorable even, as Potemkin's Odessa Steps scene. The new comrade is forced to smile-- because, once and for all, and thanks to Mentos, he has realized the folly and injustice of the class hierarchy.


"Dances With Mentos"

by Kevin (AKA MaintainerKev) Kibble@vm.temple.edu

Jamie was looking back at me, her soft brown eyes searching deep into my soul as I held her there on the beach. The ocean breeze was blowing through our hair, hers, soft and brunette with just a bit of wave to it, and mine, well, what was left of it since it started receding, kind of unkempt. It was all so perfect; I wanted it to last forever.

Her lips, soft and just a little wet, parted slightly as she was about to speak, but all I could think of was kissing them. That is, until she started talking. "I want all this done before you leave today," she told me sternly. I looked at her as if she were crazy, but she kept on talking. "You heard me, every one of these letters has to be mailed by the time you leave, or you had might as well not come back tomorrow."

So my fairytale daydream was ended, and I was left sitting at my dingy little desk at work, or as I usually say, that place I go to and they pay me for being there. Whether I actually work or not depends on my mood at the time.

Today I was definitely not in the mood to work. But I sat there anyway with a stupid expression on my face as my boss belittled me for not doing the work I was given. I could see the little vein on the side of her head dancing the lambada as she yelled, and I wondered exactly how much aggravation it would take to make that thing explode. But then I realized that my mind was wandering, and that's what usually got me in trouble.

I made a mental note to get a leash for my imagination the next time I went to the mall. My boss's towering figure finally turned and stormed into her office, leaving me alone. Well, I was alone if you didn't count all of the secretaries in the office staring at me like I had just been picked to use my tongue to clean up after a group of elephants who ate chili. They were looks of pity, so I decided to ignore them for the moment.

I popped another pack of Mentos out of my backpack and gulped down a few and then turned my attention back to the stacks of letters to be mailed that sat on my so-called desk. It wasn't really my desk; it was just one that I sat at as a lowly student worker until they hired another secretary which, knowing Temple, wouldn't happen until my grandchildren were alumni.

At any rate the letters and envelopes mocked me, knowing that I'd never get them all sent out by quitting time. Hell, I'd probably be here until eternity, and although that would be really great in terms of getting overtime pay, it wouldn't help my social life a whole lot.

My eyes wandered around the office, taking in many details I hadn't noticed before; but I'm not going to list them all either. To do so would be to put you through the same hell I had to go through, and I'd don't like to think I'm that bitter towards the world. But I'll give you the basics. There were three secretaries in my area of the office, and all of them kind of looked like they were looking for a knife to slash their wrists with. Despite my attempts at humor, however vain those attempts may have been, they rarely cracked a smile. When my eyes came to rest on the radio, I suddenly realized why this might be the way things were.

The music sucked.

And I'm being extremely kind by calling it music, I assure you. This stuff was too boring to be played in a supermarket, much less a place where you actually want people to stay awake. At the time, if my memory is correct, some muzak version of a Barry Manilow hit, if there really is such a thing, was playing. I immediately knew that someone had to rectify the situation, and that someone had to be me.

The radio was sitting on a pile of boxes that had grown next to my desk over the past few months, so it was within easy reach of my long arms. My forefinger and thumb eagerly worked together to flip the station, and suddenly the mood grew a little lighter. Sure, the static sound was really annoying, but hey, anything is better than what had been playing before. After a few moments of searching, the dial-turned-nomad settled down on a rock station that was doing an All-80's Request Hour.

Definitely my kind of music. The letter-folding became much easier, and things started moving once again. My boss's door was shut, so I knew she hadn't realized that a grand transformation had taken place, but I wasn't about to tell her either. She could find it out for herself. Either the clock was going slower or I was moving faster, but the pile of envelopes and letters didn't seem so horrible anymore. It was actually a possibility that I could have gotten them all mailed out.

But then a familiar trumpet sound came from the radio. It was kind of a sick, weak type of trumpet but I recognized it immediately. "No way!" I cried out in the office. A smile as wide as Kentucky spread across my face as I listened and one by one the secretaries turned towards me, wondering what was going on. Some guy had called the radio station and asked the DJ to play the happiest song she could, and this goddess of the radio decided to put on "Come On Eileen." Happy is an understatement in describing this song. The drumbeat pumped out of the radio and my shoulders couldn't help but bop from side to side. Slowly I rose from my chair as my body swayed and "Dexy's Midnight Runners" crooned their one major hit, and I found myself standing on the swivel chair bopping all around.

This wasn't very smart on my part because that chair had been broken for several months beforehand and there was more than one moment during my dance that I almost fell head over heels and snapped my neck, but I was able to leap onto the table and continue my somewhat tasteful dance. Only one or two pelvic thrusts were involved. By this time everyone in the office was looking on as the piles of envelopes and letters were knocked to the ground, followed by the desk blotter, my scotch tape and the pencil holder.

None of this stopped me though. None of it could. The music was overpowering my sense of judgement, warping what little common sense I had and moving my body against my will. During one of the convulsions I called a dance move, my leg slammed into the computer at my desk, knocking it and the monitor to the ground. The floor shook as the crash resounded off the walls, and my dancing suddenly stopped.

The boss's door swung open about as fast as a door can swing without disintegrating and she lumbered out of her office. Quickly, in an effort to get out of her reach, I jumped off the desk and landed on my butt behind the pile of smoking rubble. That's the rubble that used to be a computer, by the way. At any rate, it's quite predictable that my boss was rather angry with me. Considering I never was her favorite person in the world, this wasn't good.

She just stood there, her jaw open without any words coming out, and stared at the computer innards. A little bit of drool ran down her chin, and that reminded me of what my little sister looked like when we first brought her home from the hospital. Actually, my mom and dad brought her home from the hospital, I had nothing to do with that part of her life. She pooped too much for my tastes, but that's beside the point.

My boss's fists were clenching and unclenching, her face turned a shade of red that I had never seen before and her feet started to step towards me. There was nothing I could do, I was completely defenseless. Out of hope and ideas, I stumbled backwards, trying desperately to escape, and that's when I felt the tube-shaped thing in my back pocket. The Mentos. I pulled out the Freshmakers and popped one into my mouth. Suddenly my breath was minty and cool, and I was fresh and full of life. I held the packet of mint candies next to my face at a fifteen degree angle and gave my boss a goofy smile. According to the commercials, she was supposed to look at the candy, realize I was fresh and full of life, laugh and then go on her way and leave me alone.

Let me tell you now, not everything you see on television is true. She fired me on the spot, threatening the lives of my family, friends and myself if I ever came near the office again.

I guess it could be worse, at least I didn't have to pay for the computer. But I'm still thinking of suing the company that makes Mentos for false advertisement.


"Mentos--Analysis of the Ads"

by Fran Pelzman-Liscio (FranLand@aol.com)

Okay, I've read the Mentos download. It's interesting, and hilarious in places. BUT--they need to take it one step further. Yes, Mentos' product claim is freshness, but--what is the advantage of freshness? Why does this target user want to be fresh? If I were trying to extrapolate a position paper on the Mentos Freshness Advantage, it would be something like this:

The Mentos user: our target is young and if employed, holds a low level job. (The heels fall off their shoes, their cars are flimsy enough to pick up.) Mentos freshness is the enchanted totem that permits them to feel empowered--figures of authority become docile and abashed when tweaked by the power of Mentos, even in the hands of the feckless, disenfranchised Mentos user. This power to temporarily disable the authority figure gives the Mentos user sexual authority, the power to impress others (especially those chicks in the department store!) and the chance to feel powerful him or herself. Not bad for a $ .99 roll of breath mints. This is an affordable totem for people without a lot of cash.


Letter of the Month

In each issue of The Mentos Journal, we will try to answer one person's letter. This time, we have Alex Hopmann's letter and MaintainerJeff's response to it:

AH-->Question:
AH-->Apple has recently started calling their operating system MacOS.
AH-->Does this make it related to MentOS?

J--No...just because they have the same last name, doesn't make them related. At least, not directly, that is. If we trace the family trees of both Mentos and Apple, we can see a tiny teeny correlation, but none with any bearings on real-life whatsoever.

You see, in various countries around the world, Mentos come in a virtual plethera of flavors not intended for United States consumption. Among these flavors are Guava, Licorice, Grape, and Apple. Australia, in particular, has the Apple flavor.

Although the Apple flavor is not here in the States officially, we did have some imported to us from Tom Mathes, who happened to be visiting the other side of the earth for a while. We currently have a pack of these green Freshmakers in our possession, waiting for the right moment to eat them. (We rapidly consumed the first pack, mind you) have some imported to us from a guy that happened to be visiting the other Anyway, back to MacOS. MacOS *IS* available in the US to those who want it. Just like if someone walked up to me tomorrow and said, "Hey, U.H. Jeff...if I gave you a hundred and eighty thousand dollars for that pack of Apple Mentos, would you take it?" you're darned right Apple Mentos would be available in the US.

Recenly, I got information stating that John Zmaczynski found Apple Mentos in a hotel in New York City. MacOS is available in NYC as well, I assume.

Mr. Macintosh has, I'm sure, been to NYC and has most likely seen these Apple Mentos when they were out ten years ago. He liked the way the name had a ring to it, and has been waiting for the right moment for people to forget about the Apple Mentos, so that he could put out the Apple MacOS.

Luckily, sharp eyes like yours have noticed Mr. Macintosh's deviousness. Your efforts to protect the Mentos name have been duly noted.

AH-->Does this mean that the Mac is "Fresh & Full of Life"?

J-- No. According to several members of The Gathering, IBMs are fresher and more full of life than the alleged Macintoshs. Actually, IBMs (or a reasonable facsimile thereof) is probably the official new computer type of The Gathering, considering more than half of the Core 6-Pack has an IBM or a clone.

(Note from Chad, the maintainer of the Mentos Web site: The server on which the Mentos FAQ and Journal live is an Apple Workgroup Server, which is a souped-up Macintosh, so I dispute the above answer. After all, a Mac is FAFOL enough to host the FAQ...)

AH->Does this mean that Copeland (Next version of MacOS) will ship sooner
AH->because it will be crossing the street and encounter some helpful
AH->programmers that will help finish it?

J-- Unless it cuts through the back of a vehicle stopped at a red light, I doubt it.

AH>Is this similarity to Mentos grounds for a trademark infringment suit?

J--Unless Macintosh suddenly has blue, lower-case block lettering on it's screens, then no.


Fresh and Full of Life Quotes

This section is dedicated to the quotes that are destined to be in history books hundreds of years from now:

MaintainerSean had this to say during our interview with Newsweek:
Question from Interviewer: "What makes Mentos so special? How do they help solve these dilemmas?"
Sean Quinn: "Mentos are just the ambassadors to the world's problems!"

In an article written for the Murrysville Star, Francis Volpe (Fvolpe@aol.com) says the Mentos theme song is:
"So positive it makes Ace of Base sound like Nine Inch Nails."

Fran Pelzman-Liscio (FranLand@aol.com), who worked in advertising for a number of years considers the origins of the Mentos ads...and comes up with a truly original theory:
"I really think they were made by Martians."



Well, that about wraps it up for the first installment of THE MENTOS JOURNAL! We hope you enjoyed and will continue to enjoy these stories and the other fine writings saved for future issues of The Mentos Journal. Here's what you can look forward to in the coming months:

MaintainerBrian is currently working on four (4) cross-over FanFics: FranLand has some interesting ideas about Mentos Merchandising, and we'll be reprinting Bev's (wednsday@tezcat.com) classic "Liber Mentos".



Stay Fresh, Stay Cool

---The Gathering
© 1995 The Gathering