First of all, I have a confession to make, and it's a bit embarrassing. As a young kid, I was an inveterate shoplifter. Clothes, toys, baseball cards - sure, these meant a lot to me as a 10-year-old, but not enough to steal them. Not nearly as much as the one precious commodity of my pre-pubescent years, the source of my early temptation, corruption, and ultimate lasting shame: supermarket candy. Not just any old candy, mind you, but the shining light of Safeway's third aisle - Brach's butterscotch disks. I worshipped the things (still do, actually). Sadly, a cavity-filled dentist visit led to my mother's hasty, ill-formed decision that candy no longer occupied a place in little J's food pyramid. I was thereafter emotionally destroyed, and desperate to find a path to my favorite thing on earth (besides my blanket Spike).