11:17am

Mon October 15, 2012
The Salt

Sandwich Monday: The Candwich

Originally published on Mon October 15, 2012 12:51 pm

Welcome Salt readers! We're Sandwich Monday, a regular feature from the staff of "Wait, Wait...Don't Tell Me," and we're moving in here to provide an antidote to the informative and insightful posts to which you're accustomed.

What we do is eat sandwiches — the most disgusting, fattening, and unique ones out there — and we talk about them. It's as simple as that. Disclaimer: Sandwich Monday has no nutritional or educational value whatsoever, may cause heartburn, and it's possible reading it will make your eyes fat.

Every generation, sandwich convenience takes a leap forward. Our grandparents saw the first drive-thru restaurant; our children will be the first to try McDonald's McRib IV Bag. For us, it's the Candwich: a peanut butter and jelly sandwich in a can.

Eva: This sandwich is just trying to trick people into thinking it's Pringles.

Ian: Once you pop it's really easy to stop. In fact, every fiber of my being is telling me to stop.

Eva: Good thing I always carry my Sandwich Koozie with me.

Ian: It says "Kids Love It!" right there on the can. This just proves my long-running theory: that kids are dumb.

Mike: I wish they had pneumatic tubes for these, like at a bank. You could just shoot the whole can right into your digestive system.

Peter: This seems like its from a 1930's movie about the future. "Say, honey, let's bring our canned sandwiches on our personal airship to watch the robot football match!"

Peter: You know Frat Boys chug the whole sandwich in one gulp.

Ian: The world's gone topsy-turvy. Somewhere, someone is drinking a Miller Lite out of a Ziploc bag.

(The verdict: Really not very good. The flavor is somewhere on the continuum between Play-Doh and Taxicab Air Freshener. But if traditional sandwich packaging never took up enough landfill space for your liking, this is the sandwich for you.)

Copyright 2012 National Public Radio. To see more, visit http://www.npr.org/.