Coke C2: An Essay
- With a smile and a wink, I flip-tossed some quarters to the clerk at nearby Manuel’s Carry-out and hit the sun drenched street with an ice cold 20 oz. bottle of Coca Cola’s new C2 clutched firmly in my mitts. Birds were chirping at the arrival of a glorious new day. Later Manuel! Wow. I can’t believe C2 is finally here! It’s the low carb alternative to Coke that I have been waiting almost the entire past three years for. First Subway gave me low carb flatbread—delicious! Then Frito Lay gave me low carb Doritos—exquisite! And now finally, I have something for my extreme low carb lifestyle to wash down my sandwich and my chips besides Mich Ultra. Although I’d love to, I can’t wash everything down with beer. C2—it’s in my hand! Is my palm sweating or is that just the condensation? Probably a little of both, I’m certain. Oh, what a moment to be alive!
The packaging may look similar, but don’t be tricked, the classic Coke red is outlined with gunmetal grey trim and has a commanding alphanumeric C2 snuggled powerfully under the timeless Coca-Cola script. The bottle fits comfortably. I think it’s time to finally taste this baby. With some marginal effort the cap untwists and the captive bubbles race to the top in jubilation—fighting to be the first to reach my senses, like a sperm pursuing an ovum or a Pamplona bull raging after a Spaniard. With the intrepidness of a man staring down the sun, I lift the bottle to my gaping mouth. Closer and closer it comes to my ravenous maw. Almost there! I tilt!
OH fucking hell! Jesus mary joseph! Ack! ughh! Christ help me! Why did this happen? Oh dear lord! What is this crap?! Spew!!!! Where did this come from?? WHY ME!?! *pukes everywhere, repeatedly* My precious tongue and mouth! Forgive me father!
What the heck is this?!? Is this some kind of sick joke? This is like acid reflux in a bottle. Honestly, what IS this stuff?? Who’s idea was C2?! I am so offended. What’s going on here? It tastes like crème soda with a sprinkling of rusty nail filings. It’s like licking the underside of your father’s 1985 Toyota Tercel. It’s like drinking a chrome boombox that has been pushed through a juicer. It’s that bad.
C2 does not have the crisp taste of Coke. And it certainly tastes three or maybe four times nastier than Diet Coke. Let’s discuss the target audience. C2 is for people who want less carbs than a regular soda but apparently don’t want the zero carbs of a diet soda. Even my sentences that are meant to be objective and informative about this product drip with spite. This same non-diabetic target audience of maniacs loathes the taste of Diet Coke, yet in sensational paralogical rationale, they don’t mind that all of the ingredients of Diet Coke are in this new mess of a soda. It contains 45 calories and 12 grams of carbs per 8 ounce serving. Compared to Diet Coke, it contains 4500% more calories and with Coca Cola Classic it merely cuts the calories in half. Why would someone who is trying to get skinny want to drink a beverage that makes them 4500% more likely to be fat? Is my math fuzzy? No. Is my C2 still fizzy? Barely.
Take a look at the ingredients. Carbonated water, High fructose corn syrup, caramel color…the usual suspects—so far so good. Whoa whoa whoa. At the bottom of the list: aspartame, acesulfame potassium, AND sucralose? That is a certified artificial sweetner brain rotting-baby aborting-liver enlarging trifecta unseen before in the history of sodas. Acesulfame postassium, known as Ace K on the streets, is found in Trident and Pepsi One: two delicious products I can say nothing bad about. However, Sucralose, the new kid on the block, is produced by chlorinating sugar. As we all know, chlorinated molecules are the basis of pesticides such as DDT—the same pesticide that was banned years ago because it nearly wiped out America’s Bald Eagle population.
How can something with three passable tasting sweetners possibly taste this gut wrenchingly wretched when combined? Clearly, Coke hates each and every one of us. So does Pepsi too, you’ll see Pepsi Edge sniveling on the shelves as well.
In a shocking display of corporate honesty, Coca Cola is running ads for C2 set to the Rolling Stones song, “You Can’t Always Get What you Want.” Truer words were never sung. The lyric, “And If you try sometime, You might get what you need,” most likely refers to a consumer’s basic need for some sort of amnesia pill which would make one forget all about ever buying C2 in the first place.
This so-called beverage has ruined my day. You can C2 it that I will never buy it again. I can guarantee that you won’t C2 people purchase this ridiculous pop. It’s like C2: Judgement Day, and the judgement is: It sucks! You won’t C2 much of it on the shelves in another month or so.
On a side note: I will NEVER shop at Manuel’s Carry-out again. NE-VER!
So in addition to boycotting C2 and all the places that carry it, I think it’s time for me to stop laying on the floor at Barnes and Noble reading that Atkins Diet book. And no, I still won’t buy it. I will leave it there in a pile…forever! Historians and anthropologists of the future—most likely those on VH1—will look back on this year in history as the year the Atkins craze imploded. And it’s safe to blame it all on C2. It’s too much. Too stupid. Just drink Diet! Or Water! Or join Weight Watchers! Or just accept the fact that you will always be overweight no matter what you do…unless of course, you actually exercise for once in your life. Yep, I’m done with Atkins. I’m going to eat til I’m fat again all because I hate C2 and what it stands for with every ounce of my being.
And when I’m wholly fat once more—sort of like King Arthur being the once and future king, except substitute “fat person” for king—I will rest on my couch with a Coca Cola Classic. However, you won’t ever see me relaxing with a C2 on my settee.
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