I’m not sure why people dislike fruitcake. After all, its foundation is cake. And its filling, outside the context of said foundation, is fine. Dried or candied fruit—totally fine! They might not be my first choice for a snack, but nor, certainly, would they be my last. I’d eat these varieties of fruit over raw carrots and broccoli with no dip, any day. Want me to name a truly unsavory snack? There you go. I just did.

To further confuse the matter: A similar carbohydrate-based snack with a dried fruit filling—raisin bread—is, on the other hand, nearly universally loved. So what is really going on with fruitcake hate? I personally would place it in the category of “good”, especially when paired with black coffee. Yum. Cut me a slice of fruitcake. Give me a cup of joe. I’ve got myself a real treat while watching every single episode of The Crown, for example.

But I digress. Because there is another important point to make about certain snacks and liquids that, while good separately, should not be awkwardly forced into the same item. And one of those things—like the most poorly conceived variety of potato chip of all time, Cappuccino-flavored Lay’s—is Starbuck’s Fruitcake Frappuccino. The colossal caffein chain released it today, and they plan to serve it throughout this entire god-forsaken weekend.

According to Eater, the Fruitcake Frappuccino contains the standard ingredients of a Hazelnut Creme Frappuccino—plus blended dried fruit, spiced cinnamon, and a cap of whipped cream and caramel. For reasons that are harder to understand than the raison d’être for this drink to begin with, it’s finished with an abundant sprinkling of matcha.

Starbucks, of course, is no stranger to concocting non-drinkable beverages. I’d go so far as to say that the majority of their drinks, the majority of the time, are so sweet that if I had a single good thought rattling anywhere in my brain I’d decide not to ingest anything else for the rest of the day because—whoops!—I’d just drunk my daily caloric intake in a big red cup. But at least their other hybrid drinks, like the Pumpkin Spice Latte—while dumb—is composed of a bunch of things that are not dissimilar to the taste of Coca-Cola (which this fascinating piece showed us), and for most people that sensory experience is nearly as common as drinking water.

But this? This is where, god help us, Starbucks draws the line beyond which no more terrible hybrid drinks should be made. It is poised to be their equivalent to that time when I was about seven years old and, while alone at my aunt and uncle’s, I poured orange juice over my Frosted Flakes instead of milk. Oh boy, was that gross. Like fruitcake and coffee, separately, these things are fine. Together? Putrid. From that point on, I left good enough alone.

Starbucks, you can do this, too! You’ve gone far enough. Your regular sweet drinks—nay, even your standard coffee—are (just) good enough. You can totally leave it alone.

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