Literate reviews...

I dig McSweeney's.

Admittedly, I don't necessarily understand McSweeney's, but I dig it.

There are a number of things that read like jokes, some that read like reader-created blogging, some that read like literary analysis. I don't have any real clue whether it's even a real magazine or if it's just web-only. But there's a lot of entertaining stuff there.

Today's example of McSweeney's entertainment is the new food reviews column - clearly written by readers and absolutely hilarious. Great stuff.

Here's a sample...

Red Baron's Stuffed Pizza Slices: Sausage and Pepperoni

Submitted by Agnes Borden

After five minutes, only my burps seem to want to recall Red Baron's Sausage and Pepperoni Stuffed Pizza Slice. A wholly unnecessary experience, noted only for its too-thick crust that's drier than my elbows midwinter and those tasty little sausages that are clearly a collage of meats. Not a terrible late-night snack, but for more bang for your buck, I'd recommend anything that doesn't impersonate real food—like candy. Oh, Red #5, how much do I love thee?

or...

Hershey's S'mores

Submitted by Gina Hyams

Hershey's new S'mores candy bar does not taste like a campfire.

or...

Colorless M&Ms

Submitted by Michael de Leeuw

In the midst of the grayest, coldest winter in thirty-seven years, the candy man has taken the last pigment from my bleak existence. I commute, I work, I eat lunch, I work late, I go home. Daylight wakes me up but does not sustain me and does not figure into the rest of my life. My office building is a tower of ugliness in lower Manhattan, and I spend far too much of my life—my prime—here. Somewhere outside, there is a nineteen-year-old film student drawing on her cigarette and getting used to the mouth-feel of her new tongue stud. I will never meet her. Somewhere outside, there is an ignored old man on a park bench with a head full of stories that would captivate anyone who would dare to listen. I won't dare to listen.

And now Colorless M&Ms. They are white, black, and shades of gray. I try them after lunch. They disappoint. I know I am losing my mind: it's the same candy! I work on a brief and distractedly reach for more. Again, they are not the same. I have lost my mind. I walk down the hall and everything is black and white and gray. I feel panic set in. I duck into a conference room to compose myself. I lean my face against the cool window and look out on the chunks of ice floating in the Hudson River. They are gray. The snow in Battery Park is gray. Tomorrow, I will buy Skittles.

And there's so much more...