IDIOT BOX SAVANT This isn't your father's flavored ground-up horse hooves.

Thursday, May 08, 2003
Copyright © Las Vegas Mercury

Idiot Box Savant: Snack update!

By Andrew Kiraly

The Bible, in its made-up holy wisdom, tells us that man cannot live on spicy buffalo wings alone. The Savant must concur. There are only so many hot wings this consumoid can eat--while also using them as primitive meat-based pompoms to cheer on Judge Judy--before it feels like his colon is being terrorist-attacked by a heavy metal concert. After all, variety, as the Bible also tell us, is the Spice Channel of life.

So, what else to eat while taking in vast gulps of Americulture via the Tube of Flickering Delights? To answer that, the Savant recently visited his local big-box grocery mall anti-culture deathplex to see if there were any snack foods worthy of his powerful metabolic processes. Naturally, I gravitated toward stuff that I suspect wasn't so much baked or cooked as created in some infernal underground lab by cackling frizz-haired scientists. Now, PREPARE TASTEBUDS FOR INTERFACE WITH SNACK UPDATE COLUMN (licking actual column for increased effect encouraged).

Jell-O X-Treme Gel Sticks. I was really looking forward to getting my mouth's ass kicked by this stuff, but what we got here is fruit-flavored Jell-O in handy tapeworm form for sliding down your insatiable gullet, or the insatiable gullet of someone you love. But X-Treme? Naw. Gimme something like Jell-O Extreme Pool Acid Pops or White Vinegar Napalm Blasts. The tastebuds of a whole generation are crying for that kind of extreme sadistic flavor abuse! That said, these were pretty tasty, though you can get pretty much the same effect with a jar of Welch's concord grape jelly and a PVC pipe. Good with: "Real TV" reruns. Grade: C+.

Tyson's Hot 'n Spicy Buffalo Style Chicken Chunks. Okay, this was a pity-inspired impulse buy, as this somewhat homely looking package was playing the wallflower among all the splashier stuff on the snack purgatory aisle. Verdict: Tough, dry shards of purported chicken that really didn't release their full flavor power, until, like, the 57th chew, by which time I was ready for a nap, one accented with a hell-like flaming sensation in my mouth. If you're willing to put in the jaw work, these are decent, even though they look off-puttingly as though a meteor made of poultry fell to earth. Good with: the soporific Brits of "Manor House." Grade: B.

Polly Twist-Ums. Don't get your 'nads in a knot; this is just string cheese, part cheddar, part mozzarella. Actually, kinda healthy...BWEER! BWEER! Klaxon wail! Red strobe flash! Trap door opens, Polly Twist-Ums drops into pit, consumed by evil clowns with razors for teeth. Good with: wholesome-ass "Yu-Gi-Oh!" Grade: D.

Pringles Pizza-licious potato chips. Ah, the healthiness of pizza in convenient potato chip form. At best, these are vaguely pizza-flavored; they've got that same salty-goodness crack cocaine base that's the common denominator of all things barbecue-, ranch- and sour-cream-and-onion-flavored. Somewhat off-putting is that the red dextrose flavor powder is unevenly distributed on the chips in such a way that they look like they've been brutalized at the hands of Iraqi captors. And, as always, half-full Pringles tubes can be used as percussion instruments to inspire spontaneous street parties. Good with: prime-time sitcoms like "Will and Grace." Grade: B-.

Cookies & Snickers. How can you go wrong with a mix of such unanimously loved things: chocolate, caramel, peanuts, shortbread--heck, throw in a naughty night-shift nurse, and you got heaven! I like these because they lean more toward being cookies than candy bars, so you feel less like a contemptible slapdick for eating a whole box of 'em in just your socks while trying to figure out what the hell is going on in "24" (hypothetical situation). Good with: trying to figure out what the hell is going on in "24." Grade: A.