Harumph. In my day we didn't have all these fancy, designer colors for our M&M's. There was one typre of M&M's, with one distribution of colors, and we made do with that. We made do with what we had, you young punks, and we liked it. Most of the candies were brown, too, just like the chocolate underneth. And the red ones were special, dammit, almost rare. This taught you something about life, that it wasn't going to all be gaiety, song-and-dance, and here we go round the mulberry bush. Life is boring, and plain, and you'd better appreciate it when something colorful comes into your life, mister.
The actual percentages, in the Good Old Days.
Hmm. I could have sworn there were 50% browns. And okay, it was the orange ones that were special, but the principle still holds.
Frankly, I don't remember the tan ones, even when prompted. I think it's a hoax.
The covered peanuts seemed a reasonable experiment at the time, but now we see that in retrospect, it only opened the door to all sorts of nonsense. Blue ones. I still narrow my eyes a bit when I see those. Buying all yellow M&M's if you want, or all green ones. Why in my day, if you wanted all of one color, you and your friends had to tediously pick them out one at a time, sharing each other's germs. The way life should be. And now, prefiguring the Abomination of Desolation, you can get pastels. Purples. Speckled, monogrammed, almond M&M's. Almonds, mind you - a fancy foreign nut, not a respectable American nut.
Even the plain, regular bag of M&M's has been subject to deteriorating standards. Look at them. I mean just look at them!
Brown M&M's, the color that taught you about life and are good for your character, aren't even in the top four of the distribution. Modern hegemonic blues are the most common - those johnny-come-latelies, those haughty interlopers. It's an outrage.