1993 — 2025 · Food & Drink
Dell OptiPlex
retired
It never crashed the party; it just kept the party's IT running.
It never crashed the party; it just kept the party's IT running.
All spice, no spice — raspberry forever in our hearts and Freestyle machines.
Poured flat by fate, but never by texture.
It taught the world JavaScript one small hop at a time. Certificate pending, forever.
One chip, countless tears, and a legend too hot to stay on the shelf.
Patty of peas, spuds and rice — gone without a fries-to-go farewell.
Twenty nuggets short of forever, purple at heart.
Half grapefruit, half lime, all Midwest — gone in one piece after a century and a half.
A pie with ambition: even McDonald's couldn't keep New Zealand from loving it.
Squeezed fresh, laid to rest in a boardroom.
First diet cola, last to the door. The can has no warning label for heartbreak.
It beamed your life phone-to-phone with a tap, and died as quietly as it faded.
It kept its head in the clouds, and that was the whole point.
It slid open, it ran Android, it kept your secrets. Rest easy, keyboard.
Finnish for door — and for a while, it really was one.
It gave Android its face, its font, and finally one OS for phones and tablets alike.
First of its kind, small but mighty — the chip that taught Apple to build its own brains.
The party ended, but we all remember whose set it was.
Smart tags, task panes, and a decade of documents: rest easy, Office 10.
Sliced from the lineup in 2009, but the peel kept coming back.
Crystal clear, mildly boozy, forever unbothered by what beer thought of it.
Cookie for breakfast, joy for a decade, gone too soon — even Korea mourned with you.
A chocolate shell with secrets inside — the only candy that made unwrapping a treasure hunt.
Half the carbs, half the calories, all the heart. Rest easy, C2.
Berry cola fusion, electric blue, gone too soon.
It put color in our pockets and never once asked for thanks.
Too hardcore for its own spreadsheet. The fans never stopped believing.
Sweeter, smarter on paper, and never once loved back
First console online, first console off our shelves too soon.
Ten million icons clicked. Rest well, old friend.
Warm cookies, warm bikes, cold math — gone in under an hour, just like the deliveries.
Guarana-fueled and gone too soon — even its fans filed a formal protest.
Half the bus, twice the legacy: the little chip that booted the PC age.
One-year career, a lifetime of bowing out with perfect form
A snack that ate like a cereal, gone before we figured out which it was.
Things were going to be OK. They were not, but thanks for asking.
Spangled every angle for exactly one year, then folded its little stars.
It was clear, it was cola, it was caffeine. It was 1993 in a bottle.
It saw right through you, and we loved it for that.
A square peg that refused to be a dish.
That's all, folks — dinner is served, never again.
It played your old 2600 games before it was cool. Rest easy, pioneer.
Heavy, pricey, glorious — it carried the desktop into the backpack.
Killed not by weak sales, but by one family's peanut butter grudge
Unmoulded, unbothered, unforgettable — the twist that never needed a reason.
It kept the hot side hot and the cool side cool, right up until the world went warm on styrofoam.
The intelligent television outthought its rivals, then simply took its talents home
Power pack outside, dignity intact — a graceful exit in 1983.
First to the cartridge party, first to leave it — fun, channeled briefly.
Nougat, caramel, deep purple wrapper — it gave Mars a run for its money, then gave up.
It could only draw dots, but it drew the whole future of gaming first.
Named for a lion, drank like a lemon; the savanna was gentler than the sales chart.