Well, those suits in Washington finally had their way with the only thing that ever mattered to me: Sparks—the caffeinated booze drink that tasted like five or six Pixie Stix stirred into a Zima. Citing the beverage’s appeal to minors, its tendency to lead towards drunk driving, sexual assault and orange vomit, the bastards finally won. Apparently Sparks as we now know it will disappear, and its zombie replacement will walk the earth as non-caffeinated concoction designed to be mixed with cans of soda. Non-caffeinated Sparks kills the point entirely, of course, so this new brand will last about three months before being pulled from shelves entirely, which is for the best—none of us want the Sparks name to dragged through the mud.
The once-proud Sparks website has already been stripped down to just a sad-looking logo.
If you’re like me, and you keep two mini-fridges in the basement in case of this exact brand of emergency, MillerCoors (these companies are so creative when they merge, aren’t they? how many people were in the boardroom when they dreamed up that name?) “will continue to sell its current inventory of Sparks before it is replaced with the new formula.” Expect a mad rush of just-21 indie rockers and hard-luck methadone types to cram your local Chevron market this weekend.
It’s going to be an orange Christmas round the Jarman household, I’ll tell you that fucking much.
But, to get serious for a moment, I’d like to say a few words. Sparks, I’ll never forget you. From the street-drinking early days before the authorities knew to watch out for your precious battery can to the debut of your bolder cousin, Sparks black, which jammed even more alcohol into the can. And who could forget your little sister, Sparks Light? I remember Amy and I staying up all night to work on the Best New Bands package, but being so hopped-up on you that we argued over every sentence and wound up cursing you mercilessly. Now, as I watch you go the way of Crystal Pepsi and candy cigarettes, I can’t help to feel a little older, a little more jaded, and, yes, a little better for having known you. One day I’ll tell my grandchildren about you. Heck, maybe I’ll even save them a six-pack, so that on their sixteenth birthdays they may enjoy you—if just once—for themselves. We had a good run, Sparks.
I found this picture of us. I’ll cherish it for old times’ sake. Henry, on my left, has drank more of you than anyone I know. He’s been known to tackle entire six packs at a time.
But perhaps a song can best express my feelings for you.
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I would have assumed the song would be something by Sparks.
How about a beautiful ode to Sparks-on-Sparks love: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z8c72qBr0HA&feature=related
I am going to sit shiv’ah for a MONTH to mourn the loss of this dear friend (or foe?). As a person who’s never been wont to embark on the midnight train to cokesville, Sparks has been my saving grace when I felt I didn’t have the strength to otherwise dance on speakers, bro out with my dudes, and rage on rooftops. Sparks, I drank you without shame, and indeed promoted your sweet elixir to anyone seeking a REAL Portland experience. I’ve devoted facebook photo albums to the worship sessions of your followers. I swear on this great earth, I will never consume your arch nemesis, ye olde red bull + vodka, because I am no bridge and tunnel hoochiemama. I am an everyman man, and the world has done us both a great disservice by taking you from me. You will be missed. But first, I will join Casey and clear these city shelves and hoard you all for myself. Goodbye, sparks kegs. Goodbye, sparks tongue. Goodbye sparks "eye." Goodbye.
Night long roadtrips will never be the same…what a fucking shame.
Seriously, I could write an entire memoir of the good times I’ve had with Sparks. There are probably a further 3 or 4 volumes lost to the vagaries of an alcoholic’s memory. Woe, Sparks can, your orange, black and blue rainbow will no longer grace the gutters near Holocene. Woe, Sparks Noir, no more will you mingle with EmergenC to form the greatest beverage known to man. Woe, woe, woe is me, that will never (except for the next 2-3 weeks) enjoy the sweet twinge in the corners of my mouth that only comes from your sweet (so so sweet) carbonated bouquet.
An era has ended.
You should totally save a six pack for your grandkids!
The song was a nice touch, Casey. I am so depressed about this news but it helps to know that others are too.
P.S. I still have an unopened can of Crystal Pepsi that will soon have a discontinued beverage friend, so that’s an upside.
I am shocked and amazed that the alcholic heart attack known as Sparks is being torn from the hands of youths across America. I think of my friend Chetco Sierra chugging multiple cans of this devil concoction before a night out on the town.
Sparks will be missed.
This is crushing news for local hospitals. Now they’ll have to rely on espresso-related incidents and smoker’s coughs to pay the bills. Sparks, good night sweet prince!