Jell-O has been a ubiquitous part of my life. As a child, I was mesmerized. I have memories of perfect translucent cubes of red or green topped with whipped cream in a tulip sundae glass at a greasy diner. The way the light came through the gelatin mystified me. On Jell-O salads, I thought it was magic the way grapes and bananas were suspended in the dessert.

Then as the years continued on, the magic of the wobbly treat gave way to how much alcohol I could fortify it with. Imbibing on Jell-O shots with whip cream as an underage college student was a rite of passage as much as a part of an end to my childhood innocence. Nothing says sexy like a college freshman with red stained lips from downing too many Jell-O shots pumped with grain alcohol.

Recently, I was in an accident where I proved an SUV will always win against a pedestrian in a Ben Sherman jacket (I still miss that jacket…). Guess it doesn’t matter how cool and mod the jacket is, it won’t protect your bones any more than an ordinary one. The first comforting meal after several surgeries I found was a Jell-O cup. They called them gelatin gems in the hospital but it’s the same thing. The nurses liked me enough to ensure I would get an extra cup that my I’m sure my insurance company paid a premium for. I would not be surprised to learn that for every gelatin gem I ate, an underwriter lost their job.

Like I said, Jell-O has always been a part of my life to some degree. Walking down the baking goods aisle, scoffing at the tubs of cornstarch and flour (which is knowingly weird but I think I have Tourette’s where I scoff at things randomly), I was looking for nothing in particular. Then there it was, my eyes fixated on the boxes of Jell-O. How refreshing to make Jell-O from scratch than to buy it in those already convenient six pack cups. I’m doing it I declared to no one.

Scouring the boxes, one stuck out and it wasn’t just the annoying name. Mixchief by Jell-O. Sounds sophisticated since there is a byline in the product. The weird mascot on the box looks like Spongebob SquarePants dressed up as “The Gimp” from Pulp Fiction.

Then there is the pun. Puns just suck but what grabbed me about this product was “Add Soda.” Scarfing down a dessert that will quench my thirst simultaneously? How could I pass? It’s unflavored so whatever soda I use will paint the canvas per se.

I decided to use a common soft drink we should all be able to buy, Coke Zero. I was going to use Seagram’s Cranberry Ginger Ale since it is the holidays but I didn’t want to hear “Well, we don’t get that in Timbukthree or Tristram” or wherever the hell you all come from. Coke Zero sounds like a reasonable choice. Breaking out my pots with the grace of an alchemist, I ripped open the box like an ordinary person.

The instructions on the back are insipidly simple. If you cannot follow them, give up on life and drink a cup of bleach or beat yourself into a coma with a frying pan because you are pretty much useless. Sorry to sound so harsh but the directions fit on a small box if that tells you anything.

I followed the “extra special” variation where I used boiled soda instead of boiled water. The bubbling cola on the stove emanated a sickly pungent raisin-like smell. It grossed me out and I wanted to stop but I forced myself to proceed. The thought of Jell-O tasting like Coke was a tiny bit offsetting but so does chicken livers soaked in whole milk overnight and that shit is good.

Sometimes texture is just as important as the taste. Being Chinese, texture is a big component in the cuisine. How else to explain our obsession for soups laden with beef tendon or sucking on dried sour plums until they become slightly chewy? I like Coke Zero but in gelatin form would it taste as good? Would the texture compliment the soda? Would it be like a sixty-nine in my mouth? The answer is HELL NO! HELL NO TO ALL THREE!

The Impulsive Buy meet The Repulsive Buy. Somehow the gelatin mix was able to sap all the flavor out of the cola. It was flavorless and the tiny carbonated swallows made it even more repugnant. It was a truly an alien experience and eating it made me feel like the subject of a bukkake video.

I understand the Jell-O may taste as good as the soft drink you choose but I think the texture negates that fact. Maybe I should have not used a diet cola and something sweeter. Maybe an orange soda or a cranberry soda would come off better. Either way, you’re welcome to try because I won’t. This was so unappealing that even a dollop (or five) of whipped cream only intensified the blandness.

The only thing I can think of this Jell-O being used for is perhaps a novelty cocktail Jell-O shot like a Captain Morgan’s and Coke or a Gin and Tonic garnished with a candied lime, maybe even a beer. This will require a lot of trial and error (along with tomato juice to satiate any hangover pains) but I don’t believe will be worth it. I also think fans of “molecular” cookery might find it a fun and easy way to play with texture. However if that’s the case, you’re probably advanced enough to use gelatins sheets anyhow.

Sadly, this was a big fail, or more specifically the Coke Zero was a fail. I still believe the timid carbonated effect with each gulp is a bit disgusting regardless of the choice of soda. I’m all for new ideas, especially when it comes something as kitschy as Jell-O. Sometimes you win and sometimes you just suck. Jell-O, this sucked, but we’ll always have lime or beef tendon.

(Nutrition facts – 1/2 cup (prepared with cola and water) – 40 calories, 0 grams of fat, 10 milligrams of sodium, 9 grams of carbohydrates, 8 grams of sugars, and 2 grams of protein.)

Item: Mixchief by Jell-O Make Your Own…Add Soda
Price: $1.29
Size: 0.25 ounces
Purchased: A Publix supermarket that is weirdly dim and where an angry old lady surveys the deli.
Rating: 2 out of 10
Pros: This did not give me the farts. Imagining a war between the writers of The Impulsive Buy and its parallel earth counterpart The Repulsive Buy which inadvertently cause another Crisis of The Infinite Earths!!!
Cons: Bylines for products. Bukakke vids. The faint carbonation in the Jell-O is repulsive. My Mom making me eat things by trickery, claiming they were “Chinese hamburgers” or “Chinese hot dogs.”

The fall season is beginning to make itself known here in Orlando. We have traded out 95 degree days (with humidity so thick you can cut slices of it and serve with whipped topping) for temperatures in the mid-eighties. The trees are turning from green to the same green. The air smelling of sweat mixed with citrus perfumes are bowing out for scents of sweat and sandalwood ones. Yep, Fall is here.

Who am I kidding? We would never know Fall has arrived if not for those disgusting cinnamon brooms the supermarkets trudge out that assault our noses. The aroma drives me crazy. Why the hell would anyone want their house to smell like smoker’s sneeze? It’s that unique blend of metal and curdled milk? Sorry dad, when you sneezed, it was the olfactory equivalent of Hiroshima.

So here I was in my local supermarket searching for some pizza rolls and the sickening wafts pillaged my nostrils. I didn’t care if I stretched the neck of my fitted t-shirt but I stuck my nose under the collar. Aware that I looked like I was trying to avoid the avian bird flu while roaming the aisles, I did not care. But then I found it, or maybe it found me (cue the Zamfir).

Dr Pepper Ten! All my friends know I am a sucker for two things: soft drinks with new flavors (I’m still hunting for that elusive mint-tinged Sprite Ice) and women who wear eyeglasses (drool). I am aware of the rules because for every Pepsi Lime there is a Pepsi Holiday Spice. I remember drinking the Holiday Spice and thought there was a demand for paint varnish flavored soft drinks. SCORE!!! I held a cold frosty bottle of the new Dr Pepper Ten.

Just to let you know Dr Pepper Ten also comes in the two-liter bottle (which normally go flat incredibly fast) and the standard case of twelve ounce cans. I decided to play it safe and buy the twenty ounce bottle because I did not want to commit to a dozen cans on the chance they taste like crap.

Dr Pepper is no stranger to different varieties of its flavor. I particularly was a big fan of their Dr Pepper Berries & Cream which was short lived in stores. I have been looking for this Dr Pepper Ten for some time and couldn’t believe they were here in front of me. Since writing this piece, they seem to be widely available now. My assumption is they are preparing for a nationwide rollout.

Just to let you know, the TEN refers to the ten calories per serving the doctor has. The weird thing is the ad campaign is marketing itself as a diet soda for men. I’m not sure if it is manlier to drink a diet soda that has ten calories versus none. I’m also not sure how they came up with ten calories being the threshold for a man’s drink versus eight or eleven calories. Honestly, a man’s drink is a tall glass of cheap scotch.

I am pretty certain if I went to my neighborhood biker bar and ordered a martini straight up with two black olives, holding a Dr Pepper Ten is not going to save me from a beat-down. Also do I think a woman drinking a Dr Pepper Ten is any less feminine because it’s supposedly for men? Nope, especially if she is wearing flirty black thin-rimmed eyeglasses.

Regardless of the stupid marketing, it’s all about the taste. The almost boiling weather couldn’t stop the condensation running from the bottle around my fingers. I twisted the cap and heard that satisfying pffffsssssttttttttttttt!

“Oh yeah,” I thought to myself and that was the last of my happiness.

The more appropriate name for Dr Pepper Ten is Dr Pepper Two. Read on and I will explain because like most underwhelming sequels (Ghostbusters II anyone?), this Dr Pepper rates a two. I give it two points: one for effort and another because it is not hydrochloric acid.

Like some beers, I think soda always tastes better in a pre-chilled glass and so I poured a generous amount. The bouquet (yeah I said bouquet) did not have that unique hint of a “nutmegish” scent that Dr Pepper normally has. In fact, it had no scent.

I took a sip and was instantly depressed. There was very little taste of the famous doctor, in fact there was very little taste. I did appreciate the lack of unpleasant sweet syrup that coats your teeth some diet sodas have. However, this is canceled out by the fact there was little flavor.

In fact, it tasted close to plain seltzer which made me pine for that heavy sweetness. Actually, I wouldn’t care if it tasted like prune juice (as it is rumored Dr Pepper is made from) as my taste buds wanted to grasp on to something. It claims there are Ten BOLD tasting calories but it is no bolder than a grey argyle sweater vest.

A clean finish for sure, which many sodas do not have, but what does it matter when there is no taste? I haven’t been this disappointed since Fox unforgivably cancelled the show “Drive” with geek approved actor Nathan Fillion. Speaking of amped manliness, I keep hoping he will team up with Bruce Campbell.

You know, if there are ten calories…it has got to be from eating the cap and bottle. Dr Pepper Ten is obviously for boring men (or men with way too sensitive taste buds). It hasn’t affected me since I still shop at Banana Republic, listen to New Order and have different colognes for night or day.

Furthermore, Dr Pepper Ten states proudly “It’s not for women.” Women aren’t missing much because a poor tasting product will fail regardless of which gender they are aiming for. If Dr Pepper Ten is for men, I’ll take a “girly” Diet Dr Pepper instead. Or a scotch.

(Nutrition Facts – 8 ounces – 10 calories, 0 grams of fat, 100 milligrams of sodium, 5 grams of carbs, 4 grams of sugars, and 0 grams of protein.)

Other Dr Pepper Ten reviews:
BevReview
BevNerd (video)
Random Dude Eats Random Food

Item: Dr Pepper Ten
Price: $1.59
Size: 20 ounces
Purchased at: My neighborhood Publix that sells those forsaken cinnamon brooms.
Rating: 2 out of 10
Pros: No sticky film on your teeth. Nathan Fillion. Pleasant clean finish. Women in glasses, especially with their hair pulled back. Did I mention it doesn’t leave a sticky film on your “teeths”? Banana Republic circa 2006. It is only ten calories.
Cons: No Dr Pepper taste. No sweet taste. No taste. Networks canceling shows too early thus giving us viewer blue balls. Ad campaign is moronic. Not one of the ten calories are bold. CINNAMON BROOMS. Men, Women…either way it’s not good for either.

I need a smoothie to wash away the taste of the new Yoplait Chocolate Banana Smoothie. My mouth tastes like a chocolate fondue party is happening in my mouth, but instead of suburbanites, it’s being attended by hobos, hippies, and others who think deodorant is unnecessary.

Also, my mouth happens to be a room where hot yoga classes are held. Everything is creating a combination of chocolate and armpit sourness.

Just like the Boston Red Sox at the beginning of this baseball season, I had high hopes for Yoplait’s Chocolate Banana Smoothie. I thought merging a cup of skim milk with Yoplait’s chocolate-flavored frozen yogurt pieces and frozen banana slices would turn into a tasty, refreshing 16-ounce smoothie that would make me temporarily forget about the Boston Red Sox’s complete choke job, but it ended up being the salt rubbed into my wounds.

I like chocolate, I enjoy bananas, and I’m really fond of the original Yoplait Smoothie flavors, so I thought Yoplait’s Chocolate Banana Smoothie was going to be another home run. However, something went horribly wrong with this attempt to steal away profits from Jamba Juice.

There’s only two good things about Yoplait’s Chocolate Banana Smoothie. It blends easily and it has a wonderful smoothie consistency. It’s not too thick, but also not watery. Oh, there’s a third good thing about this smoothie. It’s cold. But it’s only a good thing if you pour the smoothie on top of your head to cool you down, because pouring it inside of your head via your mouth might not be enjoyable, because as I mentioned before, it’s kind of gross.

Everything about its flavor is unpleasant, from the chocolate-flavored frozen yogurt to the banana to the artificial sweeteners. There’s a repulsive sourness in each sip, which probably originates from the frozen yogurt. It even smells repugnant. On top of all of that, the smoothie has an annoying grittiness.

Overall, this Yoplait Chocolate Banana Smoothie is not bananas.

N-O-T-B-A-N-A-N-A-S.

What?

You thought I would end this review with a baseball reference.

Fine.

Overall, this Yoplait Chocolate Banana Smoothie is as horrible as the number of strikeouts Orioles third baseman Mark Reynolds racks up each year.

(Nutrition Facts – 8 ounces prepared w/skim milk. 130 calories, 10 calories from fat, 1 gram of fat, 0.5 grams of saturated fat, 80 milligrams of sodium, 23 grams of carbohydrates, 15 grams of sugar, and 6 grams of protein, 4% vitamin A, 6% vitamin C, 70% calcium, and 4% iron.)

Item: Yoplait Chocolate Banana Smoothie
Price: $3.49 (on sale)
Size: 7.6 ounces
Purchased at: Safeway
Rating: 2 out of 10
Pros: Blends easily. Nice smoothie consistency. Cold.
Cons: This shit is not bananas. N-O-T-B-A-N-A-N-A-S. Gritty. Its strong artificial sweetener taste. My excessive use of baseball references in this review. Unsure if it contains live and active cultures, since it doesn’t say on the packaging.

On the growing list of things I do not look competent doing, gum chewing is right in between “throwing a football around with the guys” and dancing. After a marathon of John Woo films in college (Dolph Lundgren wasn’t so bad in Blackjack, right?), I caught myself in the mirror chewing gum. Instead of that cool and casual look almost everyone has when they chew, I looked like a hamster with a bunch of sunflower seeds in my cheek. I don’t hate gum chewing; I just hate myself chewing gum.

Having a pleasant breath is important to me. My job entails a lot of talking to an audience, a great deal of whining, some begging, a bit of folding my arms as if I am making a point and an uncomfortable amount of quiet farting. …You know what I am talking about.

Speaking of unwanted odors, I am hyper aware of bad breath. I habitually pop Altoids in my mouth and avoid gum. I one time had a piece of Wrigley’s because I was out of mints and the result was at Hindenburg levels. I was just nibbling the gum which made me look like I had that “grinding teeth” problem and I ended up biting the side of mouth. The mint gave way to the copper taste of blood that my unforgiving teeth drew. That was the last time I can remember chewing gum.

As I was in the line of impatient customers waiting to check out at Target, I saw the usual suspects of candy bars and ultra-mint gums that promise refreshment that will give you icy cold breath that act like Mr. Freeze’s ray gun. However something caught my eye. It wasn’t that pack of Stride with Shaun White eerily staring and beckoning me to walk into oncoming traffic.

It was gum made by Mentos and I couldn’t stop staring at the package because the name was so weird if not a bit annoying. UP2U gum by Mentos and the name was boldly stamped across the pack. The UP2U was in all caps and the name was so strange. It felt like I was reading those awful vanity plates on the road that say “B Kewl” or “IM Awz0m”. UP2UdamnU! UP2ME? Well then I had to try it since it was UP2WHATIWANTED2DO and NO1 can tell me what 2DO.

See what I mean? A bit annoying, L-O-L. L-M-F-A-O and all that jazz.

The package proclaims “2 Flavors. 1 Pack. You Decide.” Kind of like our electoral process don’t ya think?

I felt compelled to try them since I’ve been a fan of Mentos from the early days of their odd Eurotrash-like commercials. Each package had two flavors, and there were two varieties so I had to try both of them, which is really four of them since, so I had to try all four of them…God, this is more complicated than string theory.

Okay, to simplify I bought the pink pack which had Sweet Mint and Bubble Fresh while the blue-green pack had Daylight Mint and Mintnight Mint. I believe there are other flavors but my Target only had these two.

I have to admit that the packaging is quite chic, albeit a bit pretentious. In fact it looks like a sleek compact minus the brush and makeup. They both open like a mini book where one flavor resides on each respective side. The pink one with Sweet Mint/Bubble Fresh has a quote by poet John Millington Synge while Walt Whitman (it would be cool if they called him Walt Whitmint) greets me on the other one.

The effect is no different than cracking open a fortune cookie and scoffing at the supposed inspiration (i.e. “You have many friends” or “A man with a great heart is richer than the man with the great wallet”—pphht!). It’s chew time.

Mintnight Mint is not as minty nor as mintnighty as I would like. It’s a bit like that tiny bottle of no name hotel mouthwash that sits next to the shower cap. The mint tastes like timid spearmint but an unappealing rush of sugary sweetness overrides everything. I’ve smoked menthol cigarettes that had a stronger mint taste. Hell, the Girl Scouts’ Thin Mints cookies are more minty. The flavor also dissipates quicker than your average stick of mint gum. The name however, is amusing as I picture a vampire with fresh breath.

Daylight Mint, its resident brother has a weird texture. It was stiff not unlike those crappy sticks you would get from ripping open a pack of baseball cards and had a give like gummi bears. The mint was even less intense than the Mintnight one.

If you consume saltines or seltzer water, this mint will struggle to mask your breath. The mint tastes like the wintergreen variety but after the first few chews, this flavor goes away and again is replaced by that syrupy sugar taste. I wanted to spit this out immediately. Like Neil Tennant sang in Brit supergroup Electronic, “Dissapointed…”

Do not depend on the package containing Mintnight and Daylight mints to do anything to freshen your breath. I’m not sure what qualifies as a daytime or nighttime flavor but they should not be chewed anytime.

Bubble Fresh is an interesting flavor. It tastes like the usual bubblegum but there is a tang like those sour candies without the sourness if that makes any sense. I really liked this flavor as it was a good play on the ordinary bubblegum flavor we all know. It was not overly sweet and there is a bit of a mint that works well, hence the fresh part. The gum itself was a very soft chew which is nice. Both combined flavors lasted quite some time and the mint lingered for a while.

I recommend this one if you love mint but you want a new spin on the flavor. I would equate it like this: sometimes you just want a comfy old burger with that melty processed cheese but once in a while you want a burger topped with yummy Applewood smoked bacon, aged cheddar and onion jam. By no means is Bubble Fresh as good as bacon but it’s familiar in taste with a surprising twist.

Sweet Mint is funny in a good way. It is the least sweet of the four and the most intense in mint. The taste is very pleasant as the mint slowly builds in your mouth and then it fades into the sweetness. This is the important factor, the sweetness is not cloying or fake sugary like that weird aunt you hate. Additionally, the mint stays in your mouth and with each chew, it maintained a freshness in my breath.

I can recommend the Sweet Mint/Bubble Fresh pack. The flavors are good, the mint stays with you and the package despite its snobbery, is fun. The Daylight/Mintnight is a fiasco and if it were UP2U…I would avoid it.

(Nutritional Facts – 1 piece – less than 5 calories, 0 grams of fat, 0 milligrams of sodium, 1 gram of carbohydrates, 0 grams of sugar, 1 gram of sugar alcohols, and 0 grams of protein.)

Item: Mentos UP2U Gum (Sweet Mint/Bubble Fresh and Daylight Mint/Mintnight Mint)
Price: $1.29 each
Size: 14 pieces per pack (7 pieces each per flavor)
Purchased at: Target
Rating: 7 out of 10 (Sweet Mint/Bubble Fresh)
Rating: 2 out of 10 (Daylight Mint/Mintnight Mint)
Pros: Sweet Mint is a good mint gum that’s not really sweet. Bubble Fresh is indeed a fresh take on the mint gum. John Woo’s Hard Boiled (Only the Cantonese version). Old Target commercials with the coolest indy songs. The packaging is admittedly cool.
Cons: Daylight and Mintnight mint gums are weak in the mint and taste department. The texture of Daylight is stiff. John Woo’s Mission Impossible 2 (any version). Those old weird Mentos commercials. Vanity plates. Bad breath. I chewed all four together, that was a mistake.

They all said I was crazy. But where are they now? That’s right, they’re down there, with them, and I’m up here, safe. Well, as safe as anyone could be in these times. Heck, I could be the only one left. Just me and this journal and…them.

If you’re reading this, you know how it all started. But I was ahead of the game. Guns, ammo, canned foods, fortifying my house; I was as ready as I could be. And when they came, it all went down just like I knew it would. It all went to hell.

But I’ve written about all this already. Now, it’s all about daily survival. I ate my last can of creamed corn yesterday. All of my supplies were running low. Much as I hated to do it, I knew I would have to leave the safety and security of my house to find more supplies.

Fortunately, I knew there was a Vietnam vet who lived right across the street. I found the “trespassers will be shot” sign on his fence and the fact that I rarely saw him leave the house to be encouraging. Maybe get some ammo; figured I might get lucky and he’d have some MREs or something. I knew I’d never be able to get to a store; there are too many of them out there now, and even with Lucy (my trusty shotgun), I wouldn’t stand a chance. Besides, I’m sure the stores have already been ransacked, before things got really bad. But getting across the street…I could do that. They are slow and I am fast and wily.

So last night, I made my move. I ran across the brick wall that I accessed via the tree next to my second story window. Lucy and I cleared a large enough path for me to run across the street and climb the vet’s chain link fence surrounding his yard. It seemed to have been an effective deterrent, as there were none of them in the yard. I wondered why they hadn’t knocked over the fence through sheer numbers. Once they smell fresh meat, almost no obstacle can stop them.

Once I’d broken inside, I immediately saw the reason why. Old man sitting in a ragged armchair, wearing his Army uniform, shotgun under his chin. Looked like he’d been there for a while. Guess this was one war he didn’t want to fight.

I grabbed the shotgun (trigger finger accidentally fell off in the process; sorry old man) and headed into the kitchen. Found a few cans of condensed soup and not much else. I was surprised; I figured that, like me, he’d be more prepared for something like this.

My surprise vanished when I hit the basement. Jackpot! More guns and ammo than I could fit in my pack. Evaporated milk. Jugs of water. But there was one thing that really caught my eye: the Tactical Sammiches.

They were in a box on the floor. On top of the box was a print-out from ThinkGeek’s website (Ha! Websites. Hadn’t thought about those in a while) giving some details about the “sammiches”. (That’s cutesy slang for “sandwich”; if anyone ever reads this, they may not even know what the Internet was, so I figured I’d spell that one out.) According to the paper, the Sammiches have a 2 year shelf life! The old man really was prepared. I wonder what made him give up so quickly. Too old for this shit, I guess.

I didn’t have much time for contemplation. I could hear the fence rattling outside. The Sammiches came in two flavors: Pepperoni and Honey BBQ Beef. My pack space was at a premium, and even in these lean times the thought of a Honey BBQ Beef sandwich that wouldn’t spoil for two years turned my stomach a little, so I grabbed as many of the Pepperoni Sammiches as I could and booked it out of there.

Lucy and I got back home pretty much without incident. Had to smash a little girl’s head in with the butt of one of my newly acquired pistols; she had no eyes but she knew exactly where I was. Her pigtails were cute, even if they were matted with blood.

Once I was safe inside my house again, I took some time to look at the Tactical Sammich’s packaging. It’s a shiny brown package with a label on the front that says, “CMMG Small Arms ^and Sammiches Manufacturing”. The “^and Sammiches” part was inserted with cutesy font. I remembered the company from when I was shopping around for a 9mm to add to my collection. I bet they never figured their little gimmick would be taken seriously one day.

The back of the package describes the sandwich as “shelf stable pepperoni in bread”. Bread! I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had bread, but I could remember the lovely smell of it baking in my mother’s oven like it was yesterday. My mouth watered at the memory, even though my brain knew that whatever bread was actually in the Tactical Sammich wouldn’t exactly live up to my mother’s.

An interesting note: while the print-out claimed the Tactical Sammich had a shelf life of two years, there was no expiration date on the package. The one’s I’d taken from the dead guy’s house could have been sitting there for five weeks or five years. I had no way of knowing.

The first thing I noticed when I took the Tactical Sammich out of its sealed pouch was that it had a face. Two eyes, jagged teeth pattern forming a rictus smile, cracked skin…I shuddered. It took me a moment to compose myself. It looked too much like…

Well, after I got past the unintentional face, I was able to examine it more closely. The Tactical Sammich was about the same size as a Pop-Tart. The bread was unnaturally smooth and dense; it felt almost oily, but left no trace behind on my fingers.

When I cut it open, I was rather surprised at what I saw. The back of the package wasn’t kidding when it described the Sammich as “pepperoni in bread”. I’ve been taking some pictures with what’s left of the battery power in my camera; if anyone ever reads this, you can find pictures of the Tactical Sammich on it. As you can see, it looks like someone shoved a Slim Jim into two cheap hot dog buns that had been smashed together.

And that’s pretty much what it tasted like, too. Obviously, only one out of every three bites actually had the pepperoni in it, leaving the rest as mouthfuls of dense, mostly flavorless white bread. I worry that I might blow through my entire emergency water supply just trying to get these sammiches down my gullet.

Unfortunately, having my mouth full of gummy enriched flour was the best part of the meal. Having been at this whole survival thing for a while now, I have eaten my share of stale, expired Slim Jims, and that is exactly what the pepperoni in my Tactical Sammich was like. Leathery and yet greasy on the outside, skin shriveled, and very tough to bite through and chew. The pepperoni flavor was faint; I would describe it more accurately as faded. It was also bitter, and there was a lovely subtle aftertaste of dirt. There was nothing redeeming about this pepperoni stick.

And that is the long and short of the Tactical Sammich. Dense, flavorless bread and tough, heartburn-inducing, just plain bad-tasting pepperoni stick. No sauce, no cheese, nothing to tie the two together. If the Pepperoni Tactical Sammich was this bad, I can’t even imagine what was going on inside the Honey BBQ Beef. Now I know what really caused that old Vietnam vet to off himself.

You may think I’m being too critical of the Tactical Sammich. After all, the world as we knew it has essentially ended, they have taken over, and survival is next to impossible. Don’t get me wrong; I’ve eaten worse in my struggle to stay alive, and with a two-year shelf life, these Sammiches will help me to continue to exist for a while now, if they don’t get to me first. But I’m still a human being, last time I checked, and I still have a palate. I will choke down these “food” products because I have to. But that doesn’t mean I’ll like it.

(Nutrition Facts – 1 sandwich (70 grams) – 270 calories, 130 calories from fat, 15 grams of total fat, 5 grams of saturated fat, 1 gram of trans fat, 20 milligrams of cholesterol, 580 milligrams of sodium, 25 grams of carbohydrates, 1 gram of dietary fiber, 0 grams of sugar, 10 grams of protein, 4% vitamin A, 4% calcium, and 8% iron.)

Item: CMMG Pepperoni Tactical Sammich
Price: $5.99
Size: 1 sandwich
Purchased at: thinkgeek.com
Rating: 2 out of 10
Pros: Can help keep you alive. Dead guys with convenient stashes. Two year shelf life. Lucy.
Cons: Dense, flavorless bread. Employing overused tropes to write a review. Bitter, tough pepperoni. Them. No expiration date on the package.

According to my computer’s built-in dictionary, the word “pure” is defined as:

1. Not mixed or adulterated with any other substance or material.
2. Without any extraneous and unnecessary elements.

If we were to go by those definitions, SoBe Pure Water isn’t at all pure, since it’s not only made with water, but also erythritol, citric acid, natural flavor, calcium lactate, potassium citrate, sea salt, purified stevia extract, tartaric acid, and lactic acid. With that many ingredients, it’s as if SoBe’s benchmark for pure was a rock band groupie.

Perhaps there’s a third definition in the unabridged Oxford English Dictionary that goes something like this:

3. A BS term marketing folks use for products that have no calories, no colors, no preservatives, and no artificial sweeteners.

SoBe Pure comes in three flavors: Watermelon, Golden Pineapple, and Black Cherry. And they’re available exclusively at Target. If you don’t have a Target nearby, you’re S.O.L., which I believe the unabridged Oxford English Dictionary defines as: Settling for Other Liquids.

Each SoBe Pure is enhanced with “a drop of flavor.” But if my math is correct, which it always isn’t because I’m not a stereotypical Asian, a drop shouldn’t be able to create a level of flavor that these SoBe Pure waters have. Their flavors aren’t as strong as SoBe Lifewater, but the difference between the two varieties of flavored SoBe water isn’t much.

SoBe Pure Watermelon is one of those flavors I’m not sure if I truly enjoy. It doesn’t taste like watermelon, but then again, everything “watermelon-flavored” doesn’t taste like watermelon. However, it tastes as if I was making out with a girl who just finished sucking on a Watermelon Jolly Rancher.

SoBe Pure Golden Pineapple is my favorite of the three flavors. Although its aroma is a bit flowery and artificial, it really tastes like someone grabbed a chunk of fresh pineapple, squeezed it over a 20-ounce bottle of water to extract a couple of drops of pineapple juice, recapped the water bottle, and then shook it to mix.

SoBe Pure Black Cherry smells decent, but it tastes vile. Imagine trying to get mo’ ‘tussin by putting some water in a bottle of cough syrup, shaking it, and then drinking it. That’s what SoBe Pure Black Cherry tastes like. I’ve gone through a fourth of the bottle and I won’t finish the rest because it’s quite disgusting.

Overall, SoBe Pure may be “natural with zero calories” and it may have electrolytes, but it doesn’t electrify me. If you’re looking for a lightly flavored water with no calories, no colors, no preservatives, and no artificial sweeteners that isn’t available everywhere, might I recommend Hint Water. They’re definitely a lot more natural tasting than SoBe Pure.

(Nutrition Facts – 8 ounces – 0 calories, 0 grams of fat, 30 milligrams of sodium, 4 grams of carbohydrates, 0 grams of sugar, and 0 grams of protein.)

Other SoBe Pure reviews:
Thirsty Dudes: Watermelon & Black Cherry
Drink What

Item: SoBe Pure Water (Watermelon, Black Cherry & Golden PIneapple)
Price: $1.00 (on sale)
Size: 20 ounces
Purchased at: Target
Rating: 6 out of 10 (Watermelon)
Rating: 2 out of 10 (Black Cherry)
Rating: 7 out of 10 (Golden Pineapple)
Pros: No calories, no colors, no preservatives, and no artificial sweeteners. Has electrolytes. Golden Pineapple was good. Watermelon was decent.
Cons: Black Cherry was vile. Target exclusive. Watermelon doesn’t taste like real watermelons. Scent of Golden Pineapple was flowery and artificial. Not really pure. Carrying an unabridged Oxford English Dictionary.