Altoids - Why So Curiously Strong?

My previous roommate loves Altoids. He always had a case of them at any given time. The kind you can only buy at a bulk discount store or on Amazon. Then he would stash them everywhere he could possibly come in contact with them, including the consoles of my personal vehicle.

Are you familiar with Altoids? The “curiously strong” mints. I’m curious why they have to be so strong. If “hurt people hurt people” were a candy, it’d be Altoids.

Why would anyone inflict that teary-eyed, mouth-burning, chalky Listerine tablet on any unsuspecting child unless they themselves had a difficult childhood? Either that, or they are marketed specifically to dads who hate sharing candy with their kids. They are the antithesis of Mentos.

There is irony in the fact that the name “Altoids” comes from the Greek word alt, meaning “to change,” combined with oids, meaning “taking the form of.” Roughly translated: “things that change.” Presumably referring to your breath, because it’s clearly not changing the ritual of passing on inherited pain from one generation to the next.

What in your mouth do you hate so much that you’re willing to wage war on it by dropping that nuclear pellet into it, eradicating any and all life forms, good or otherwise? They literally have to be contained in a metal container with a locking lid, as if to keep them from burning your skin, or more likely, to keep the traumatic memories repressed.

I did some research on these bio-warfare wafers, being the inquisitive mind that I am (translated: I went on an ADHD fixation deep dive). In my search, I discovered that Altoids were first created as a treatment for stomach discomfort in 1780 in Europe. I guess if your mouth is on fire, you can’t focus on a bellyache.

They weren’t introduced into the United States until the year 1918. Yes, as in the final years of the First World War.

That made perfect sense to me.

I can absolutely envision a soldier in the French Revolution storming the Bastille, then capturing a monarch and popping a mint that overpowers your conscience before it’s off with their head!

“Let them eat cake” … and then follow it up with a murder mint.

Fast forward to 1918, when American soldiers are coming home from war in Europe and kids are looking proudly at them as heroes, asking a multitude of questions about the glories of battles hard fought. A veteran, grizzled and sleep-deprived from the nightmares and PTSD that followed him home, doesn’t want to relive the experience. So he responds tersely:

“You want to know what war was like, kid?”

Having traded his Hershey bar to his British counterpart in exchange for Altoids, he reaches into his pocket with his one remaining hand and slowly pulls out a shiny metal container. The child’s eyes open wide in anticipation. He hands it to the child and tells him:

“Just take one, kid. They’re curiously strong.”

The minor, giddy at the foreign treasure of these deceptively bland-looking circles, pops one into his mouth. The immediate burning sensation takes over as the candy floor stripper removes the top layer of his taste buds. The miasma of toxic exhaust fumes forces liquid from his unsuspecting eyes.

This youngster is forever convinced that he has now tasted the flavor of freedom, a memory and flavor he then passes down to his children.

However, it is the opinion of this author that what you are actually experiencing is the taste of generational trauma.

Author’s note: This story is based on a standup bit that I have been performing with much success. Below is a video of me performing it for the first time.