To the People at Mott’s:
I like your applesauce and I like your fruit juice, but may I ask what you were trying prove when you designed Clamato? This tomato and clam combo is a juice that is destined to induce vomiting. Clamato has the acidic, metallic smell of a can of tomato sauce being opened by a wizened, grizzled fisherman who reeks of drink and his own urine. Clamato is the archenemy of taste buds everywhere! When drinking it I am reminded of that time at the beach when I accidentally swallowed a bit of the ocean, and I wasn’t sure what had gotten in my mouth but I knew it was dirty and that my mouth would never be clean again. But with Clamato and its damned poison tomatoes, it was worse than that. I knew that this time it would take more than high-powered antibacterial soap to sanitize my soiled mouth.
Mott’s, your website claims that Clamato is the “undisputed market-leader in the Seafood Blend category.” Yes, yes it is. Bravo for you. But the fact that there is no competition might also imply that no one else has the bad taste (pun intended) to push such a heinous combination of flavors on an unwanting public. Perhaps Smucker’s will be the first to create Grickle (grape and pickle jelly), but it does not mean that this is somehow a tempting product, nor that anyone will buy it.
You try and try to convince us, Mott’s, but even adding hard alcohol cannot soften Clamato’s dead-fish taste. Your “Bloody Caesar” is the freak bastard child of a bloody mary and Manhattan clam chowder. They keep him locked up in the basement, and with good reason. He makes your vodka reek of clams! This bloody ne’er-do-well is my mouth’s evil nemesis. It is also Canada’s number-one selling cocktail. Need I say more?
Furthermore, you are now trying to hit up the underage demographic with “Clamato Energia,” a fishy energy drink. Yes, I see your thought process. Because when I’ve been working up a sweat, there’s nothing more refreshing than cold fish in my mouth!
Please discontinue this wretched line and put the tomatoes’ misery to an end. Seriously, think of the tomatoes.
Oh, Mott’s, I will always like your applesauce, and despite the dry heaving I experience whenever I recall the taste of your wretched juice, I wish you no ill will. Even if you were to create Salmelery, Octoccoli, or even Shrimpich I would just shake my head and sigh, and know that eventually the mad scientist in you will make Clamato’s Bride.
Yours minus the clams,