Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Nothing says "that dog is the coolest" like a skateboard. I do love the one-dimensional depiction of Snoopy on the cover (a rendering almost utterly unique to East-based products) and the "who's awesome, me?" drawing on the back. (Although those E.T. fingers are a bit, um, strange.)
There's some kanji above the words "Made in Japan". My Japanese is thus far very rusty (soon Rosetta Stone, soon), but my best guess is that it translates as, "Endo Shozo is a pretendo bozo".
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Sunday, January 25, 2009
Leave 'em be.
I grew up on Sesame Street and MTV, but Peanuts books taught me much more.
Further proof of the true genius of Charles Schulz. Anyone still under the delusion that the great man "drew funny depressed kids and a dog" needs to read this.
Speaking of mammoth artistic figures...
Patti LuPone as Frank's mom means more Frank.
I came for the Pigpen reference, stayed to gawk at the fact ESPN has a hockey player not named Crosby or Ovechkin on the cover of their mag.
Let the political ball gags begin!
Friday, January 23, 2009
The ironing is crazy delicious. You looked like Alfred E. Neuman and Ethel from Archie Comics had a kid. Then beat it upside the face with a detached stapler for the first seven years of its life.
(For any and all interested...I've lost 18 pounds so far.)
Thursday, January 22, 2009
I'd like to thank sites like these for opening my mind. Blogspot isn't just for maintaining a daily blog; you can get your own domain and use it to display your overly-illustrated philosophy as well. But fear not, dot-coms dedicated to hatred and fear-mongering still thrive.
It's difficult to reconcile your place in society when you take in what people like this are saying and realize that while much of it is applicable to many women, it's still akin to taking a paint roller to a Cezanne. It's galling when you read the complaints these men have about your peers and realize that the vast majority of them do not describe you. It's horrifying that your counterparts in humanity think they know you so well that any protestations would be sniffed at as classic self-denial.
It is chilling to be looked down upon--at the worst, hated--for something I am not. For something I never was. For something I will never be.
"Feminism" should be stricken from the record as a word used to describe anything. Apologies to any otherwise like-minded people, but it has done more harm than good as a concept. Identifying the struggle to be treated with decency and respect with a single word demeaned the movement from the start, as any woman with a mind of her own is instantly described as a "feminist" and all the negative connotations of that term automatically come to define her to others.
The only way that "feminism" could ever make any difference these days is for people--not just women--to take the fundamental precept to heart: that a woman, if she so desires, can be more than her ascribed role. Going beyond that, she can also be more within her ascribed role. It's nothing to expect applause or privilege for; it is a way of life. A bisexual female writer and a devoted wife and mother of three are both human beings, and should be free of easy diagnosis by bitter, spiteful "philosophers".
Let's look at the American Women Suck site. They have a top 10 to explain why we suck, which is awful handy.
1) Selfish - to the point where they don't know the difference between love of self and plain downright greed--and drilled into believing that whatever happens is the fault of whatever man is in their life because of the feminist crud drilled into them by the cadre of asexual closet cases called "therapists" who appear on "Ricki", "Oprah" or other such electronic drivel.
I know women like this; I've seen those "Real Housewives" commercials. And my therapist doesn't talk smack about dudes, he is a dude, and I owe my treatment my sanity. Also, fuck Borpo.
2) Deluded - into thinking they "deserve" a rich, model-handsome husband who will "take them away from all of this"--whatever the "this" might be--and leading to resentment when they discover that the universe does NOT revolve around them.
I don't want a husband. I support myself.
3) Angry - ALL the damn time about things which are so far out of their control as to be nonsensical--and constantly wanting to "discuss" this mind numbing drivel ad nauseam.
I do admit this fits.
4) Psychotic - multiple personalities in the same woman - as "Nomad" put it in the "Star Trek" episode: "Woman...a mass of inconsistencies...", and also when the feminist voices in their heads start with the regrets and victim acculturation.
Quoting Star Trek...it's the new quoting Nietzsche.
5) Worthless - anything that does not immediately resolve itself in her favor or to her benefit is meaningless to her, especially husband and family.
Does this not describe a lot of men too?
6) Lazy - drilled into their head that they "deserve" a maid, nanny and personal slave to take care of every detail - and that their husband/boyfriend is REQUIRED to cater to their each and every mindless whim.
My parents had six daughters, and they raised every one of us to work work work and expect no one to raise a hand in assistance. And if anyone did, politely decline and continue with your work. None of us girls were treated like unassailable princesses who should expect to be saved by a classic knight-on-steed. None of us were raised to ask for handouts, or to expect them. As women now, one of us runs a business, another works for her, another has a state job (with nothing but other women in her office), and the rest? Work work work. One toils harder than ever since her husband of 24 years abandoned her. She has more heart, soul and guts than any motherfucker who starts multiple goddamn blogs to bitch about 50% of the country's population. That's not anger speaking there; that's just bottom line truth.
7) Resentful - especially of other women who have things that they do not, in material, spiritual and esoteric senses.
I don't worry about what other women have if what they have makes them truly fulfilled. The only women I truly resent are the ones who match these stereotypes, making it easy to pigeonhole the rest of the gender.
8) Greedy - to them, "housekeeping" means getting the house in the divorce (thanks to Zsa Zsa for that immortal line) and sucking the guy for every last cent, even if they had nothing to do with the building of the nest egg.
Your marriage speak means nothing to me. Seriously, are lesbians then to be understood as the highest form of female? 'Cause all this stuff is just attacking straight women, it seems.
9) Mindless - constant, irritating, idle prattle about topics they read about in some women's magazine and then become instant experts--particularly pop psychology and the latest crap they see on "Oprah" or "Ricki".
I read books without pictures and peruse Internet sites. I also do this new thing called talking to people to gain new perspectives.
10) Vain - believing that they are irresistible to everything in pants and therefore are allowed to behave sluttish and without any honor.
Nope, doesn't fit me. Not even remotely close.
For the other women, the ones who do match up with these descriptions...I feel sorry for them. Almost as sorry as I feel for the creators of all these websites, for not being able to see beyond them.
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
Good luck to the new CIC. May both he and his most rabid supporters--many of whom are for the first time believing that the nations leaders can work for them--weather the highs and lows of the classic Presidential template.
(And about the Rev. James Lowery, I found him not so much racist as much as I found him hopelessly stuck in his role. America has a biracial Prez, and this guy busts some 1960s hooey (calling Asians "yellow"? Really?) that has no relevance in today's world whatsoever. Feh.)
Monday, January 19, 2009
From oil to Gaza to basketball to Canadian politics to football, the struggle continues.
BUY THIS FOR ME NOW.
At least Snoopy never had a goddamn uni-brow.
Interesting forum discussion on Peanuts specials.
Sunday, January 18, 2009
Jeremy Roenick has always been good for the NHL. Natural talent, passion for the game, and honesty before the media. It's why he's the only hockey player you'll see on PTI despite neither Wilbon or Kornheiser knowing or caring about the sport. (And they should; the Caps are for real, and the Wizards suck.) If not a player/commish, Roenick should at least be an offseason media coach.
“You know, Sidney reminds me a lot of Wayne Gretzky in the way he deals with the media. It’s like he’s watched tapes of Wayne as a kid and memorized all his lines. Wayne never went out of the ordinary in terms of what he said, and that was fine for him. But as a league you definitely need some of your key guys to step up and be colorful.
“Then you look at Ovechkin – his heart is on his sleeve, he’s out there smiling all the time, he’s talking during games, he’s jumping in the air after he scores, he’s not afraid to say what he wants to say during interviews.
“Every time he’s out there, he’s showing the people what a joy it is to play hockey. We need as many guys like him as we can get.”
Reminiscient of Alex Rodriguez studying under the unwitting tutelage of Cal Ripken re: "How to Be a Phenomenal Athletic Talent While Still Maintaining an Utterly Milquetoast Disposition." Crosby really can't win for losing with the way the league has set him up to be a savior, but if he showed some backbone, some wit, some color, some proof of pulse...maybe hockey fans outside the Steel City wouldn't look at him as some pampered uber-douche. You never know.
Saturday, January 17, 2009
"This grilled cheese sandwich has mayonnaise in it, what?!"
Thursday, January 15, 2009
This comprehensive 784-page volume--which includes two 7-inch records with unpublished songs by each member, album covers, band portraits and documentary photos, many of which have never been published before--is a must for fans and anyone seeking to connect the dots between New York's various cultural scenes. It features writings by band members and contributions by a host of other luminaries, including Richard Hell, Mike Kelley, Jutta Koether, Alan Licht, Lydia Lunch and John Miller.
This is gonna make Sonic Matters, Sonic Collaborations come off like a church pamphlet.
It's quite true--the Flyers were the team that eliminated the Caps in last years hard-fought first-round battle, bringing an almost unfathomable ride to an abrupt, ugly halt. That series still stings anyone who rocks the red and means it. (Not that I don't also adore the bandwagon fans. They're so cute, with the not knowing how to pronounce the last names of half the roster, the inability to relate to those of us who lived through Sergei Fedorov in the '98 Cup Finals.)
The Penguins, though? Non-entity these days. Halfway through the season, Pitt is floundering, currently 10th in the Eastern Conference, and out of contention. Their sizable Internet fanbase is in full-on Dramamine Queen mode. Beating the Pens now--as the Caps did last night, 6-3--is like beating an old woman at arm wrestling.
The desperation level is such that Pens fans are actually begging Jaromir Jagr to abandon the faltering KHL to put the bird on his back again. They're dying alive, those poor schmucks.
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
So why do the chefs this year suck? Why has no one created a dish that made the judges beyond thrilled to have their jobs? There is fan speculation that this group is too immature to handle the standard criticisms that all contestants will receive over the course of the challenges, that they perceive being told where they fouled up a dish as nothing less than an ambush on their souls. Whatever it is, the show is perilously close to being renamed, So You Think You Can Cook?
Just like last years midterm report (remember last year? Oh Stephanie! Money is funnies, sister) I've dredged the chefs "exclusive Q & As" and personal playlists to better gauge their personalities and overall worth. It's crazy superficial, but...so is the show.
(Why are so many chefs into Bob Marley? Is that what's hot in the kitchen? "Get high, make scallops!")
LAUREN (sent back on the boat, ep. 1)
AMUSED DOUCHE: The unquestionable loseringest loser in the history of Top Chef, Lauren became the first chef ever eliminated in a Quickfire Challenge.
WHO YOU CALLIN' SUCCOTASH?: Instantly Lauren reconnected with culinary school chum Patrick. So cute! So foreshadowing!
YOU NEED MORE BACON: Those two were so sympatico that they ended up on the bottom of the Quickfire after making salads. Salads? Top chefs don't make what I make!
GET HIGH, MAKE SCALLOPS: Each playlist is accompanied by the chefs feelings on the song, and on Lauren's, the words "My husband" start off sentences six times. He's serving in the military, so of course he's on her mind. Oh look, "Don't Stop Believin'", I'd like to thank The Sopranos for making Journey cool again. I'd also like to thank The Sopranos for going off the air. I hope you took this country's obsession with the Mafia to hell with you. A Daniel Bedingfield song? You may think I like Dan and his singin' sis 'cause our last names are so similar. You may think the phrase "meteoric rise" makes sense.
PATRICK (sent back to school, ep. 1)
AMUSED DOUCHE: The youngest hopeful at 21, and still a culinary student, Patrick was doomed to be cute, gay, and out of his element.
WHO YOU CALLIN' SUCCOTASH?: I instantly took to Patrick because he shares a given name with my closest friend, also a TC fan. I instinctively knew, then, that he could not last. Way to fuck up noodles, chief. His departure also marked the first blow to a house clique, the legendary Team Rainbow, comprised of queer chefs Patrick, Jamie, and Richard. We'll never forget you, Indigo! Shine on!
GET HIGH, MAKE SCALLOPS: He loves him some singin' bitches! What a bottom.
JILL (head in the sand ep. 3)
AMUSED DOUCHE: Represented Charm City. Now I'll cough awkwardly.
WHO YOU CALLIN' SUCCOTASH?: Now I'll blow out an overexaggerated sigh, and throw in a dramatic eyeroll to show you how "over it" I am.
YOU NEED MORE BACON: Took a bold chance by throwing together "ostrich-egg quiche", but brazenness in the kitchen is not rewarded if you don't know what you're doing. Jill's "defense of the dish" was painful to witness, a pause-ridden disaster that would have made a monk impatient.
GET HIGH, MAKE SCALLOPS: Jill's funny. A Simpsons fan. Loves Oh, The Places You'll Go. ("Will you succeed? No indeed. The sound of your voice makes my ears bleed.) And her enjoyment of "Shimmy Shimmy Ya" is great: "'Baby I like it raw'--I make lots of sushi." Yeah Jill, sweetie--it's a song about ass fucking.
RICHARD (so long Violet, ep. 3)
AMUSED DOUCHE: The "bear" of Team Rainbow, he shared a first name with Season 4 finalist Blais, but this Dick choked much earlier in the game.
WHO YOU CALLIN' SUCCOTASH?: His schoolboy lust of Tom Colicchio made for great editing (see, ep. 3, the Bo Derek slo-mo editing of "The Don" entering Kitchen Stadium, I mean, um, the dining area).
YOU NEED MORE BACON: Banana-choco smores sound tempting. Unless you put vanilla foam on top and the dish sets for awhile, so that by the time people are ready to eat them, it looks like a loogie bukkake took place.
GET HIGH, MAKE SCALLOPS: Gay guys love that "Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy", huh? Remember 1989? Remember when "Love Shack" ruled the gay clubs? What has happened to the taste level since? Gay men used to steal and claim much better hetero songs than that. "It's Raining Men", motherfuckers! "Save a Horse" is such a terrifying admixture of gunslinger hokum and depthless "appreciation" of hip hop culture that I abandon my post at work when it comes on the radio. Save a guitar, kill a hillbilly.
ALEX (off to get married, ep. 4)
AMUSED DOUCHE: Destined to be among the lower-tier chefs about who the viewers say, "When they're gone, then the show really gets good."
WHO YOU CALLIN' SUCCOTASH?: Faced with the prospect of showing off on Good Morning America, the chefs are asked to create a dish that can be prepared and served in two-and-a-half minutes. Alex, disgusted by the simplicity around him, decides to bust out creme brulee.
YOU NEED MORE BACON: The renegade in Alex blinded him to the logistics of creme brulee under time restraints. His dish hadn't even set when the clock struck "your hat makes you look like a 1920s cabbie". Dude kept talking about his impending nuptials, and how his heart wasn't totally into the competition. How annoying. If you're not going to throw yourself 100% behind the ridiculous spectacle of a reality show that could possibly boost your career--don't audition.
GET HIGH, MAKE SCALLOPS: Alex loves Sportscenter. Prob'ly he thinks Stuart Scott is the last American poet. "Yeah, holla at a playa when you see him on the street!" He also likes the last good song the Beastie Boys ever did, "Intergalactic", because "it references the marathon!" Wowzee! Reminds me of white-ass Eminem fans who go cuckoo-caca over the fact "he rhymes all those syllables!" Yeah, it's called compound rhyming and Kool G Rap was doing it back when your boy was getting listless headjobs from trailer trash mamas.
DANNY (sent to the showers, ep. 5)
AMUSED DOUCHE: Filled the over-sized mold for "New York goombah", much like Season 3's Joey. Overweight, blustery, and possessed of a middling talent.
WHO YOU CALLIN' SUCCOTASH?: At first, his gregariousness was refreshing. But then the show began airing more episodes, see.
YOU NEED MORE BACON: Danny has some football story that explains why his facial hair looks like an ex-girlfriends farewell revenge. Then he starts flipping off his peers because he doesn't see why eating a sandwich with no napkin and leaving crumbs everywhere is unsanitary. He interviews that Jamie is on the rag because she tries to tell him why he should try and act like a people. The horrid "GMA" episode revealed that young Daniel has a yearning to be like Bobby Flay. He beseeches the camera with hoary Howard Stern catchphrases ("Baba Booey!") and channels his inner Jeffrey Tambor with a belabored "Hey now!" Ugh. I wish he'd channeled the cross-dressing attorney Tambor once portrayed on Hill Street Blues.
But the real kill was Danny's utter inability to recognize when his food sucked. Never has an aspiring "Top Chef" so callously shunned the reliable opinions of the judging panel.
Tom: "Danny, your dishes were subpar at their very best. Honestly, I'd rather eat at Arbys."
Danny: "Well, I stand by my dish. Also, behind it. Firmly. I'm not gonna, like, throw myself unda da buss. (sings) Two plus two is fouuur! Two plus two is fouuur!"
Tom: "I can see why homicide is so popular!"
GET HIGH, MAKE SCALLOPS: The themes to World of Warcraft and Ghostbusters and "Kokomo"? I just got the douche chills.
EUGENE (one of two chefs sent home, ep. 7)
AMUSED DOUCHE: Tattooed everywhere, probably including genitalia; fond of wifebeaters, all the better to show off said "artwork"; never attended culinary school; bald. He had the Bravo producers at "Hi, bitches!"
WHO YOU CALLIN' SUCCOTASH?: In the first Elimination Challenge, Eugene was forced to prepare an ethnic food he'd never even tasted before--Indian. Flying by the seat of his pants, he stumbled into a classic Indian yogurt and rice dish that he prepared exquisitely.
YOU NEED MORE BACON: And then Sisyphus got crushed. Eugene just turned out to be another Danny: marginally skilled, mammothly prickish. He operated under the sad assumption that the judges weren't adequately forward-thinking to appreciate his daring flavor combinations. But, one man's ignorance is one woman's bliss: if the great female chefs of the world ever formed like Voltron, Michelle Bernstein would be the cunt.
GET HIGH, MAKE SCALLOPS: "Hate It or Love It" is by the Game, not 50 Cent. Curtis merely wrote and performed the hook. Last season, Mark made a similar boo-boo on his playlist.
MELISSA (left with Eugene, ep. 7)
AMUSED DOUCHE: Maryland native with striking blonde bangs that look rather like rake tines hanging down her forehead.
WHO YOU CALLIN' SUCCOTASH?: I can't recall one thing she cooked that didn't make a smirk crease my blotchy face, but she did try and sabotage Alex at the Judges Table by insinuating that he didn't really want to be in the competition, while she, the Great Rake-Banged Warrior, would slaughter the developing denizens of entire daycare dungeons to stay on and fight!
YOU NEED MORE BACON: And talent. And personality.
GET HIGH, MAKE SCALLOPS: Well, Beatles and Talking Heads fandom bodes well for anyone. But then she reveals her favorite book is On the Road. Bleurgh. I guess one could say that Melissa cooked like Kerouac wrote.
AMUSED DOUCHE: Inconsistent chef who positively pales in comparison to Season 3's Lia. Ah, Lia. Isis in a chef jacket, that one. Magnificent smile, gorgeous eyes, wild brunette locks screaming out to be lovingly pulled--but we must move on.
WHO YOU CALLIN' SUCCOTASH?: She's a good barometer of this season. Sometimes real good, other times real garbage.
YOU NEED MORE BACON: One half of the cringeworthy "showmance" with Hosea. While both admit to having significant others back home while they battle it out for fame, glory, and money, that does not stop them from aggressive flirtations. It all reminds me of that Seinfeld "schmoopie" shit. Where's Jenn Biesty to Olympic toss some metal chairs when you need her?
GET HIGH, MAKE SCALLOPS: I wonder if Jack Johnson helps ease the humiliation of getting owned by Colicchio in the stew room.
AMUSED DOUCHE: Rhymes with "Attica". An Indian chef, but don't pigeonhole her!
WHO YOU CALLIN' SUCCOTASH?: Her sweet personality (and the fact she hates Stefan) makes her easy to root for, but she ain't no Stephanie. None of these women are a Stephanie. A Casey, maybe.
YOU NEED MORE BACON: Another teeth-grindingly inconsistent chef. She's won two Quickfires, and immediately after each she shits the bed in the Elimination Challenge. Furthermore, her last ruination of the nighttime sanctuary gave uber-douche Toby Young the opportunity to unleash that WMD quip he'd been honing for a few weeks.
GET HIGH, MAKE SCALLOPS: Lenny Kravitz? How is you gangsta?
AMUSED DOUCHE: Blonde bombshell who actually winks during the opening credits. (Anyone still get moist?) Owns the DiLido Club. Yes.
WHO YOU CALLIN' SUCCOTASH?: A natural leader with a Hung-like skillset and ego. He views Top Chef as a showcase for individual style, from presentation to palate, with the bravery to experiment whenever its prudent.
YOU NEED MORE BACON: He should be kicking ass, then, in his field of house, I mean, mediocrity. But the pieces aren't quite coming together as one amazing whole. He's likely one bold ingredient, one bolder style of preparation, away from really separating himself.
GET HIGH, MAKE SCALLOPS: Favorite book is To Kill a Mockingbird, which some still claim was ghostwritten by Truman Capote. C'mon. Even Danny knows that's bullshit.
All good Fugazi-engendered goodwill is wiped out by a 311 mention.
AMUSED DOUCHE: Bullet-head with annoying facial hair.
WHO YOU CALLIN' SUCCOTASH?: Has 2 EC wins. One came at the infamous AIDS benefit, which inspired Tom to visit the chefs in the stew room and implore them to start fucking cooking shit that tastes good, you witless assholes. GULP.
YOU NEED MORE BACON: See Leah.
GET HIGH, MAKE SCALLOPS: "Raining Blood" is the greatest metal song ever, Bullet Head. "One" isn't even the best song on And Justice For All.
AMUSED DOUCHE: Fan-friendly Italian chef who is probably exaggerating the accent.
WHO YOU CALLIN' SUCCOTASH?: I'll give him credit for "spherical olives" prepared so that they have the consistency of eggs: hard on the outside, soft on the inside. That's the only food so far this year that made me go "Wow, I'd like to eat that. That is some thinking outside the rhombus nonsense right there."
YOU NEED MORE BACON: Along with Stefan, comprises the "Euro Duo", each man intent on bieng the first non-native Top Chef. They bond over soccer, food, and Euro kissing. I dislike jingoism among my fellow Americans, why would I think any differently when two "fresh out the boat" people do likewise?
AMUSED DOUCHE: DC-based caterer with hair like Beaker and a 200-watt personality. The oldest chef, at 44.
WHO YOU CALLIN' SUCCOTASH?: Usually chefs who skate by much like Carla has would be met with scorn by the TC fanbase. But how many chefs get cooking tips from spirit guides, have special calls with their spouses in case they lose each other in a public place, and give the best defense (honest, spirited, humble) of a bad dish by anyone facing elimination?
YOU NEED MORE BACON: She's fantastic to listen to, but she ain't built for this.
GET HIGH, MAKE SCALLOPS: Patrick's like, "Who does that 'Money' song? The, 'Money money moooney'?"
Me: "The O'Jays."
Patrick: "Did they ever do any other songs?"
Me: "Yeah man, 'Love Train', 'Backstabbers'..."
Patrick: "Oh man, you mean they did good songs too? I was really hoping it would have been some one-hit wonder group. I hate that song!"
AMUSED DOUCHE: 41-year-old Jersey cougar mom (and Nora Roberts fan) out to prove she can kick young tail.
WHO YOU CALLIN' SUCCOTASH?: Has two wins, one for perfectly appealing to a target group that just so happened to be her peers, and the other for knowing how to properly cook meat. Each season I am astonished by how many chefs undercook meat and/or don't know how to utilize seasoning. Well, every season but this one. They're still fucking up obvious things left right and center, of course, but the massive mound of cocaine I snort before each episode really takes the edge off.
(Note: Blogger does not actually use coke. Blogger in fact does not even take aspirin.)
YOU NEED MORE BACON: Padma spit out Ariane's dessert in the second EC--and yet Ariane stayed. This has caused Danny, Jill, Gene, and Melissa--in exit interviews only--to question her continued presence on the show and (in Gene's case) to accuse producers of "rigging" the results. How quickly we forget that in the "GMA" episode, there were two more instances of judges spitting out food: Tom with Melissa's hell-hot shrimp, and Kathie Lee Gifford with whatever the hell Jeff made.
GET HIGH, MAKE SCALLOPS: Natasha Bedingfield. Or is it Benningfield? Fuck you!
AMUSED DOUCHE: Ballsy and competent, this blonde lesbian with the colorful arms is the only woman left who stands a chance of making it back-to-back bitches in the winners circle.
WHO YOU CALLIN' SUCCOTASH?: For the first half of the season, the eternal bridesmaid. Girl cooked her ass off and just couldn't get a break. No immunity, no cookbooks. But she hung in there, and last week earned an EC win for scallops.
YOU NEED MORE BACON: Scallops scallops scallops! Lee Anne Wong is gonna shoot the next fuckin' chef that looks at a fuckin' scallop, you understand? To quote Fabio: "This is Top Chef, not Top Scallop!" Usually Fabio's overwrought grandmother-evoking interviews make my eyes disappear, but this time he pretty much nailed it. Maybe we can see some more out of the Little Lesbian That Could now that she's actually won something.
GET HIGH, MAKE SCALLOPS: Fandom of Feist and the Gossip don't surprise me one bet. She's gonna get the pussy pass revoked for no Sleater-Kinney mention, though. And I love that she hates on the popularity of "Don't Stop Believin'" and says "Only the Young" is better. 'Cause it is. Like second-best Journey song ever.
She also loves AbFab. Dye your hair, get some laser surgery, and holla at a girl.
AMUSED DOUCHE: Did Vince McMahon have a hand in casting? "You know what this show needs? A villain from another country! Anyone hear remember Muhammad Hassan? The Muslim wrestler we had on a few years ago? He was Italian! I mean you could take somebody from Florida with a real good tan and have 'em be..."
"Actually, we were thinking Nordic."
"Why work out when you have steroids?"
WHO YOU CALLIN' SUCCOTASH?: A Finnish chef who spent much of his formative years in Germany. Winner of the first EC challenge, Stefan is passionate, brusque, bold, and confident. Made a creamy chicken pot pie dish that I really wanted to try.
YOU NEED MORE BACON: He's also a fuckin' knobhead who needs a few near-death experiences to level him out somewhat. He's a terror to work with, he married (and divorced) the same woman twice, and he shamelessly hits on a lesbian. Not to mention that whole fuckin' emulsion/vinaigrette thing (you need to get a life, arguing about that shit). If he wins, this is official worst season ever.
GET HIGH, MAKE SCALLOPS: Hahaha, he has "Don't Stop Believin", hahaha! You'll never win Jamie's heart. And do I see GNR's cover of "Live and Let Die"? I have always questioned Nordic musical tastes. To top it all off he's "too OCD" to read. Fick dich. This guy makes me wanna adopt Hung.
Sunday, January 11, 2009
The Japanese suck, yet rule, simultaneously. So you can see why I want to visit so badly.
Break it down on the beat. People will be discussing Schulz and his masterpiece forever.
Top Chef: New York midterm report coming next week.
These books taught me how to read.
"That dog"? He's not Marlo Thomas, he's free to be you, me, and anyone else he wants to be! His name is Snoopy!
Bob Dylan and Elvis Presley both had Great Danes named Snoopy. That is one of those facts that will intrigue only me, but the unique truths that titillate my mind are far more interesting than, say, Peter King's over at Sports Illustrated. Also I know more about football than that goofy bastard.
LaDanian Tomlinson is now official Shermy-status.
"You never do anything right/You never put anything in its place..."
They might as well just draw a zig-zag over every map of the United States.
Thursday, January 8, 2009
It's kinda funny, but whoever writes Flynt's material screwed up: "With all this economic misery and people losing all that money, sex is the farthest thing from their mind." Please, wheelchair guy. Just today I looked at my credit card bill, right? Two thoughts immediately formed in my brain. First: "What the hell, that interest rate is illegal!" Then: "You know what would provide a temporary ease to this distress? Orgasms." Which is why I always read the credit card bill when I have a hot bath running.
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
So you think I'd know when Shonen Knife releases a new album. (In November, even!) Japanese-only release or not, that's hardly an excuse. That's de rigeur in Knife land these days. I should be up on this, should be scouring Ebay so I can get it at a price slightly less pocket-gouging than standard export CDs traditionally demand (just like I did with their last release, fun!fun!fun!).
I feel especially that I am losing out with this one. Feast your eyes on that tracklisting: "Muddy Bubbles Hell", "Deer Biscuits", "BBQ Party", "Your Guitar". This is Naoko Yamano on the top of her title game, no question. Also, yes, the final song is a cover of one of my favorite songs of the 70s.
Until I can get ahold of this CD (and punch in for another day of the factory), this will have to suffice. "Put the Knife under the scalpel", I wish I'd thought of that.
Monday, January 5, 2009
Sunday, January 4, 2009
Sure enough, I was right.
The only analyst to call the situation correctly was Keyshawn Johnson (who is turning out to be imminently more tolerable as a talking head than as a player). Key stated that the Jets players voicing concerns over their quarterback receiving seemingly preferential treatment--not being with the team at every practice, not being chewed out by coaches for mistakes--was a natural part of being a team competitor. Then Mike Ditka railed against footballers running off at the mouth to the media. Then someone yelled "Obama!" and Mike went pale, then wept widow-style.
Former Bronco (loser, in other words) Tom Jackson then used the old "what has Thomas Jones done prior to this year, is he a first ballot Hall of Famer?" to try and undermine the argument against Favre. This tactic is an appeal to ridicule, saying that since Jones is not a superstar caliber player nor has he ever been, his opinion of another player with many individual records to his credit is absurd. This tactic is also used by people who can't admit that someone or thing they love beyond reason is fucked up.
No one brought up the idea of Favre retiring, which is what he should do. His arm is shot, his field vision is terrible, and his comprehension of football as a team sport is muddled at best. Instead we got a lot of "he needs to adapt if he wants to continue". This is where Berman shined.
"Knowing Brett as I do...if that is what he has to do, he'll do it. He absolutely will do it. I know that he will."
It was brilliant; it sounded like a parent encouraging their young child to finish reading a sentence out loud. "I know you can do it, Brett! Sound it out!" I bet Berman cried elephantine tears into his Large-Ass Popcorn when he saw Free Willy for the first time.
Chris Berman Brett Favre ESPN
Thursday, January 1, 2009
Mom outdid herself as usual on turkey day: sweet potatos, baked beans, stuffing, mashed potatos, and of course the grand bird. Christmas was less fanciful, with chicken wings, meatballs (turkey balls for me; I've been off red meat for almost three months now), mac and cheese, little smokies wrapped with bacon...tons of evilness.
It also marked the first time I'd seen Patrick in over two months.
As far as gifts, I got a gang of Snoopy stuff.
I didn't get what I really wanted, though: real estate.