Peanut Butter Pop Tarts

Untoasted

The uncooked Peanut Butter Pop Tart, while tasty, isn't very peanut buttery at all. With sugar on top and a very thin layer of peanut butter that is overwhelmed by the pastry portion, it tastes more like a graham cracker than anything else. Peanut butter fans might be disappointed, but it's a suitable breakfast treat on the go for those who prefer a more savory tart than Pop Tart's sweeter fruit flavors.

Toasted

Now this is more like it! Toasting Peanut Butter Pop Tarts really brings out the peanut butter flavor. And they smell delicious while you cook them! You're likely to get more hungry as the scent comes wafting from your toaster and be tempted to put in a couple more. Just be careful! As you can see from the picture, Peanut Butter Pop Tarts burn easily.

Toasted, topped with peanut butter

The smell of those cooking Peanut Butter Pop Tarts made me want some more of the good stuff. And holy shit, were Peanut Butter Pop Tarts even better with more peanut butter on top! I reduced the setting on my toaster; tried to make the experience more perfect, more whole. But as you can see, Peanut Butter Pop Tarts like to collapse under the weight of their own ooey-gooey goodness. My smoke detector's going batshit! Call the landlord! Call an ambulance! Call the grocer! Let's get some more friends in on the action, shall we?

Peanut butter-covered toasted Peanut Butter Pop Tart smoothie

Are you some sad sack businessman who would just as soon hang by his own belt as go into the office and talk about the local baseball team with those dead-eyed fucks he calls co-workers for one more day? Well then friend, I'm reviewing your cure! Much like the restaurant where you take your clients and order a steak not to impress them with your wealth, but so the fantasy you have about jumping over the table and slitting their throats and doing the world a lick of good for a change is that much closer to sweet, terrible fruition, the Peanut Butter Pop Tarts box features a secret menu! Oh, they'll try to tell you that the only way to fly is cooked or uncooked. But discerning peanut butter lovers know better. Cook it, put some peanut butter on it, throw that shit in a blender with some milk, and get ready to get your fucking $40 socks knocked off. You've never felt so alive! At least that you can remember. The peanut butter-covered toasted Peanut Butter Pop Tart smoothie was missing something though. I used all-natural peanut butter, and it's the processed shit that'll really get your noodle going.

Peanut butter-covered toasted Peanut Butter Pop Tart and Reese's Puffs Cereal smoothie topped with Reese's Puffs Cereal

There's no doubt about it folks, the only thing better than enjoying a peanut butter-covered toasted Peanut Butter Pop Tart and Reese's Puffs Cereal smoothie topped with Reese's Puffs Cereal is enjoying a peanut butter-covered toasted Peanut Butter Pop Tart and Reese's Puffs Cereal smoothie topped with Reese's Puffs Cereal from a mouth bag while playing the knife game. BONUS POINTS: have another one after you've vomited out all your stomach acid, and it'll start to taste the same coming back up!

Peanut butter-covered toasted Peanut Butter Pop Tart and Reese's Puffs Cereal smoothie topped with Reese's Puffs Cereal cookie peanut butter sandwich topped with peanut butter and Reese's Puffs Cereal

In the interest of full disclosure, I must admit that I find footage of animals eating other animals sexually arousing.

Ladies and gentlefarts, this is the end of the fucking line for me. I have experienced all that it is to be human. To want, and to have want fulfilled. To live. To die. I only live, really, as this abomination passes through my digestive tract. I went through a near fatal shock when I got a bit too excited trying to fish the cookie batter out of the blender and cut the tip of my finger off. It's ok though. I burnt it badly picking pieces of Peanut Butter Pop Tart out of the toaster with my bare hands. That finger, at least, probably would have had to have been amputated anyway. But I digress.

A-

Jack Link's Big Dippers

For the first (but I'm certain not the last) time in my reviewing career, I came across something that I was afraid to try. I've reviewed nasty things before, but those were safe. They involved cooked food and things that are supposed to keep without refrigeration. Jack Link's Big Dippers, however, are an abomination painted with a thin layer of patriotism.  Several friends begged me not to try them.

Nevertheless, I went into my research with as much optimism as I could muster. After all, I do occasionally enjoy a Jack Link's Peppered Beef Steak if nothing better is immediately available. I thought, at worst, Big Dippers would probably be a misguided attempt to get to the “good stuff.” No pretzels or crackers getting in the way of the meat, cheese, and sauce. I soon discovered that the problem with Big Dippers is much more profound.

All American

"Beef sticks & cheese sauce"

Normally, I would not remark on the difference between a picture on the packaging of a prepackaged food and the food itself, but the case of the beef sticks in Jack Link's All American Big Dippers is exceptional. On one hand, I was disgusted by the perfectly smooth beef sticks in the picture, which appeared to be greasy enough to function as a reflective surface. On the other hand, I was disgusted in a completely different way by the beef sticks themselves, which were dry and wrinkly, like a log of meat raisin.

It's apt that the beef sticks are wrinkly, because the cheese sauce they come with has the consistency of wrinkle cream.

 

 

From the day the dutch angle was invented, it was destined to be used to frame this picture.

It tastes like Velveeta that sat out for a week, then was reconstituted with too much water. Throw away the sauce, and you're left with ordinary mass-manufactured beef sticks bereft of the hydrating effect of their individual greasy plastic wrappers.

Value: There are 6 beef sticks in here, each about half the length of a normal Jack Link's Beef Stick, which run $.99 apiece. That's $2.97 worth of meat stick, which leaves $1.02 for a cup that proves our government is broken, if only because its contents apparently meet the FDA's definition of “cheese.”

Barbecue Flavored

 

"Kippered beef steak strips & BBQ sauce"

As long as we're comparing pictures to products, there's more of a similarity in the Barbecue Flavored Big Dippers. The actual steak strips just look slightly burnt in comparison. This is still disturbing, however, given that the waxy sheen is still present. The steak strips taste just like normal Jack Link's Beef Steaks, only dryer and more bland.

Again, the grotesquery was left to the sauce.

WHY IS IT FOGGY?!?

This barbecue sauce tastes like it's been sitting open in a refrigerator alongside rotting vegetables. Any barbecue flavor tastes watered down. The consistency is eerily thick, like cooling candle wax. Jack Link's Barbecue Flavored Big Dippers is basically just a bundle of smelly, unsettling meat wax.

Value: There are 6 steak strips here, adding up to what I would liberally guess is 1.5 standard size Jack Link's Beef Steaks, or about $1.94 worth. That leaves $2.05 for a small, aggressively odorous cup of the worst barbecue sauce I've ever tasted.

One variety was not available at the time of writing: Buffalo Chicken. Thank God for that.

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 ©2013 The Revioozy.  All rights reserved.

Cracker Jack'd

 I have a friend whose three greatest passions in life are Red Bull, Cracker Jack, and music. He's very funny, you should listen to his podcast. Anyway, given the volatile nature of those three things when you combine them on a regular basis, I often worry about him. When I heard that Cracker Jack was coming out with a caffeinated product, I thought it was only a matter of time before he ate them until his head exploded.

It turns out these snack mixes are quite different from the Cracker Jack the rest of us know and tolerate. Most of them don't contain caffeine (only the Power Bites do), and some of them are actually quite good.

Cocoa Java Power Bites

“Crunchy chocolate & coffee flavored bites made with real coffee”

These are very tasty when you're eating them. They're like chocolate Oreo crumbs with a little bit of coffee grounds mixed in. Unfortunately, they leave a soapy aftertaste. We can send a man to the moon, but science has yet to come up with a way to mask the unpleasant flavor of added caffeine.

Vanilla Mocha Power Bites

“Crunchy vanilla & coffee flavored bites made with real coffee”

The soapy aftertaste is present in these, but not nearly as strong as in the Cocoa Java Power Bites. They taste like the cookie version of a gas station cappuccino.

PB & Chocolate Hearty Mix

“Savory PB & Chocolate flavored and coated oat clusters, mixed with honey roasted and salted peanuts”

This mix is probably my favorite of the six I sampled. It tastes like a very crunchy peanut butter cookie with some chocolate thrown in.

Cheddar BBQ Hearty Mix

“Tangy cheddar and BBQ flavored oat clusters, mixed with salted peanuts & smoked almonds”

I was admittedly terrified when I saw the phrase “BBQ flavored oat clusters,” but it turns out oat clusters are well-suited as a delivery mechanism for a payload of savory, delicious artificial flavoring. This mix has the taste of your standard BBQ potato chip, but more potent and crunchier.

Zesty Queso Hearty Mix

“Kickin' zesty queso flavored oat clusters, mixed with spicy peanuts & roasted almonds”

This mix makes me wonder how snack manufacturers have missed doing a queso flavor before. Cheese and salsa flavors have been done and done again, but the result is greater than the sum of its parts. It's counterintuitive that nuts would work with a queso flavor, but they certainly do.

Spicy Pizzeria Intense Mix

“Spicy pizza flavored mix of pretzel pieces, crunchy corn kernels & crispy corn sticks”

Normally, I disapprove of pretzels in snack mixes. The slick surface of a pretzel does not capture flavor very well, and they end up lending a certain blandness to otherwise tasty snacks like Chex Mix. Cracker Jack has the right idea here, using instead chunks of thicker pretzels with the interior exposed. The flavor, on the other hand, leaves something to be desired. It tastes like very cheap pizza, such as Totino's. I swore off that stuff after I accidentally burned one in the oven, and it came out tasting no different than if it had been properly cooked.

While I approve of most of the flavors (particularly the Hearty Mixes) and recommend giving them a try, make no mistake: these are not healthy. At all. Cracker Jack'd is best eaten on road trips when you need something tasty and filling and don't care about getting 40% of your recommended daily sodium intake in one snack.

A minor peeve with the copy on the packaging: inconsistent use of “and” vs. “&”. Get it together, Cracker Jack!

Three varieties were not available at the time of writing: Berry Yogurt, Buffalo Ranch, and Salted Caramel.

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 ©2013 The Revioozy.  All rights reserved.

My Stupid Friggin' Ivy Plant

Since the time of the great hanging gardens of Babylon and perhaps earlier, people have been growing domestic plants for pleasure. They instill indoor spaces with color, pleasure, and the joy of nurturing. Recent studies have even shown that having a variety of indoor plants can alleviate depression.

At least, plants that are not my stupid friggin' ivy plant.

                                                What the heck is wrong with this thing?

The whole idea of having an indoor plant is that if you water it, prune it, and re-pot it at the appropriate times, the God dang thing will live and grow. None of these features work on my stupid friggin' ivy plant. It is unresponsive to love and care, like some kind of brat kid.

To make matters worse, it's got some really nice leaves on one branch. It seems to taunt the user; a window to the great plant it could be if the piece of crap worked at all. How could they release a thing with so many flaws?

Not being a professional gardener, I don't ask much. I just need an ivy plant that won't keel over and die no matter what you do. Comparable models, such as the one in my neighbor Susie Anderson's window, grow like some kind of flippin' weed.

If you ask me, my stupid friggin' ivy plant gets a D+. Jeez.

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 ©2013 The Revioozy.  All rights reserved.

"The ABC's of Choosing a Good Husband" by Stephen Wood

Anyone who says that young people today are out of touch with traditional Catholic values has simply not met enough young Catholics! While the temptations of the world are the same as they've ever been, the will to resist them is stronger than ever. I hereby commend the Kitchen Sink Cafe here in Chicago for including in their lending library "The ABC's of Choosing a Good Husband" by Stephen Wood.

                                                         courtesy inhisname.com

The young women who patronize Kitchen Sink to indulge in a good ol' cup of joe may not look like they're there to drink from the lessons of St. Joseph. Their questionable hair length and unfathomable fashion choices will throw you off. But it's clear from the coffee stains on the pages of Stephen Wood's book that they care about the sanctity of marriage.

The easy-to-follow format of the book leads the reader through the alphabetized chapters- one for each letter. It frankly discusses diverse topics; "marriage-busters" such as pornography, masturbation, alcoholism, and contraception, and the perils of interfaith marriage. There are also helpful tips for the hopeful bride to follow to ensure the financial security necessary for starting a large family.

Though some of the more liberal of our Catholic sisters may hem and haw, I'll come right out and say it: I appreciate that this book was written by a man. All the better for the ladies to get a look inside a man's head, and know how to weed out the lesser of us. And Lord knows they do romanticize marriage. This book gives some valuable, level-headed perspective that will hopefully keep the reader from falling in with the first Romeo with a rock.

There's nothing my wife of 15 years, Clarice, and I enjoy more than inviting a young couple over to our house to counsel them over dinner on their path to the sacrament of marriage. They come to us nearly boiling over with mortal passion. However, we soon make our way the living room, my wife snuggling close to me, still flushed from the hearth of the kitchen. We enjoy good wine in moderation and they find release in revealing to us their struggles. My wife and I, thus reaffirmed in our own previous commitment to chastity, find all the more spiritual fulfillment in our marital embrace after they leave.

I wish we could keep the copy of "The ABC's of Choosing a Good Husband" from the lending library to inform our counseling, but good conscience dictates that I return it and get my own.

A+

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 ©2013 The Revioozy.  All rights reserved.

McRib Combo

                                 Since I forgot to take a picture, I drew an exploded view of my lunch.

The McRib sandwich is something of an anomaly. Each year, and you never know quite when, McDonald's opens some secret compartment in the back of the meat freezer and brings them out. It's a cult institution within a very much non-cult establishment. Most people either love the McRib or refuse to try it.

I have not been to a McDonald's in several months, and I can't remember the last time I went there for anything other than a quick coffee stop on a road trip. It's not that I don't eat fast food, it's just that the way McDonald's presents their food seems particularly manipulative, like they've discovered a massive quantity of ground beef at the bottom of the ocean and have to sell it all before it reaches its half-life and fossilizes. I'd rather that not happen in my large intestine.

The newest tactic in McDonalds' campaign is to sell not their burgers, but the idea that their burgers are good for you. The décor suggests a coffee shop, with tile walls, wood panels, and black surfaces. The pictures on the menu now have white backgrounds and green highlights. Though the food is the same, it looks healthier. Notice the difference in the drawing below.

                                                                                 It's practically a salad.

I get my McRib combo and sit down. I pull off the bun top and notice something I haven't before: the bun halves appear to have been manufactured separately and dyed to appear perfectly toasted. I replace it and bite into the sandwich.

The barbecue sauce has been flavored by committee; I can taste traces of its rough drafts, this one with a little too much high fructose corn syrup, this one with a little too much sodium benzoate, until finally, gentlemen, THIS is what the average American imagines barbecue sauce tastes like.

The patriotism doesn't end at the sauce. The boneless pork patty tastes like a hot dog and appears to have been shaped by the gears of Benjamin Franklin's own printing press. I pause to chew and I put the sandwich down on the paper covering the plastic tray. It is printed with a history of Thanksgiving as it relates to McDonald's. On the other side of the paper is nutrition information about the food available at McDonald's. I have to wait until I've already eaten my sandwich to learn more about it, as I don't want to set it down on the crumbs and stains of those who ate before me to turn the paper over. I find out that since this is a seasonal sandwich, the information is not included.

As I leave, I fill my drink cup halfway with orange Hi-C. I remember being 5 years old, laying on a mat on the floor of my house, throwing up the same thing I'm now drinking. That's the McRib combo in a nutshell: a not-unpleasant childhood memory of vomiting. The taste and memory linger unnaturally for hours afterward.

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©2013 The Revioozy.  All rights reserved.