Meatwad
As part of Editor-In-Chief Stephen Lin's new initiative to put the moan in newmoanyeah, the staff has been given 'sadistic' reviews to cope with, bringing together reviewer and review subjects that were never meant to be - like the brain of Hitler in an cyborg gorilla... or a buddy cop drama. Previously, this experiment was tested on Janet Choi, while I pointed and laughed. Now it was my turn in the hot seat - while Janet had to expose her eyes to wrestling, I had to expose my tongue to the substance that most wrestling fans live off of: the spinoff of unwanted internet junk mail as infamous mystery meat (or is that the other way around? both are things you wouldn't want to put in your mouth), Spam.

My new partner was a by-the-book dietary staple to Hawaiians, hard-up college students, white trash, and homeless people the nation over. Hopefully I could be the fast-talking Chris Tucker to Spam's uptight between-two-slices-of-whitebread Charlie Sheen, and show it how to really get down. In return, it could show me the world outside watching B-movies of fucked-up people fucking each other up. First, I had to make contact at a local supermarket.

Nutrition Facts:

Johnathan Mason	Spam
Ingredients
Snips, Snails, Puppy Dog Tails, High Fructose Corn Syrup.	Pork with Ham, Salt, Water, Modified Potato Starch, Sugar, Sodium Nitrate.
Serving Size
226 lbs.	2 oz. (56g).
Servings Per Container
1.	6.
Calories
Unknown.	180.
Fat Calories
Too Many.	140.

Canned Bads
Clad in undercover plainclothes, I wandered past Spamheads hopped up on their latest score, knowing the trail of discarded cans would lead me straight to my objective. In the store, I used the local street lingo (Pig Latin) as not to appear suspicious. After several tries with a dealer, a 40-year-old chainsmoker named Geraldine, I managed to find my partner's digs. It was a veritable Spamslum; multiple flavors crammed into 3 shelves of tenement housing. All of them stared at me pleadingly, but I was only able to take one, a can of Spam Classic (before it became a sellout) which I named Punky. I left, promising Geraldine I would give Punky a good home - in my stomach.

Ironic Chef
The ride back was silent as we sized each other up. After enough small talk, I decided it was time to take our relationship to the next level with some bonding. This would of course involve eating Punky. Having procured the substance, the question was now a matter of consumption style. I originally thought of my first taste of Spam being prepared in a Dr. Seuss-ian manner, but after several days I was only able to locate a box; no fox or green eggs were anywhere to be found. Spam didn't melt well in a spoon or fit into a needle, so after turning on the Food Network for inspiration, I tried it Hawaiian style -- raw, straight from the can.

Lilo & Spam
You will need:
One (1) Can of Spam.
Two (2) Hands.
One (1) Orifice w/ a tongue and several teeth.

Directions:
Using your hands, open the can of Spam. Carefully remove so as to retain the natural shape (square). Once fully taken out of its container, bite into it as you would a fresh apple made of meat. Chew into a hearty pink paste, then swallow.

Aftertaste:
Punky's initial flavor was pleasingly room-temperature, with a slightly plasticene taste that gave the impression of chewing meat-flavored gum. After becoming sidetracked with the concept of being able to snap meat and blow bubbles with it, I tried a second recipie: an interpretive dance of the classic Spamwich.

NewSpamWichYeah
You will need:
Two (2) slices of bread stolen from your roommate's loaf since you don't have any.
One (1) Spam Cube with a bite taken out of it.
One (1) slice of the cheese of your choice.

Directions:
Using your hands left over from the previous recipe, tear or cut loose a slice of spam. Place it inbetween the slices of bread with some cheese, then microwave for about 30 seconds to a minute. Quickly eat it before your roommate returns.

Aftertaste:
This was as pleasing a white-trash simulation I'd ever tried short of putting on a mesh cap and wife-beater. Who'dve thought meat could create the authentic experience of being a cracker?

Although I kid the cube made of all the stuff they can't put into hot dogs, Punky and I enjoyed our short time together. We parted ways amiably at a trash can, then later at a public restroom. I was able to see past the rumors and half-truths about Spam to find a decent meal I'd gladly have take a bullet for me in the line of duty. A true prince among other Alberts-in-a-can, it had found the way to my clogged heart through my bloated stomach. What else can I say? I fought the slop, and the slop won. I don't love it or anything, though. That's an emotion I save strictly for pizza.