Category: Uncategorized

Too bad the Atkins thing is over.

There are these Chinese places (forget the name of them) where they make vegetarian fake meat out of some kind of gluten. It all sort of tastes the same, and the food is okay but the concept is freaky. I always wondered why, if the idea of eating your friends made you sick, why’d you want to eat something that looked and felt just like your friend but wasn’t? Like carefully forming mushrooms into insects and snakes to eat, or sculpting an aspic to almost exactly resemble a dead baby so you could remember all the good times when you used to eat human infants. Why not just eat plants? Anyway. This musing gave me an idea of the anti-vegan restaurant in which this is reversed and everything is made of meat. The entrées wouldn’t be a problem, just eat American style and you’re done. The other stuff would require some ingenuity and hard work.

Lettuce could be constructed by marinating and pounding out filets very flat and then flash-frying them. Rocky Mountain Oysters might be Brussels Sprouts. Chicken is malleable enough that good slicing and dyeing would simulate a wide range of veggies like peppers, squash, etc. Coarsely ground turkey, fried, is corn.

Beverages are tougher, because you can only drink so much blood really. I think we’d have to work with alcoholic cocktails mostly and substitute shrimp for onions and olives. One could always just pour a big glass of icewater and use super-cold frozen beef cubes for ice, too!

For dessert, candied suet! Meatloaf cheesecake! Filipino “chocolate pudding”! Or just a nice hot cup of beef tea cappuccino.

The variations are only limited by our imagination, and this is America! We’re a can-do people.

I’ve been talking back and forth about this project lately with this gal Michelle I sort of half know. The other day I told her I was making a tomato out of lamb stew meat, and she asked about pickles. My response: “Some people just use sausages and green paint to make pickles but where’s the challenge? I like to marinate some finely sliced pastrami in a vinegar mint dressing for a week to get that greenish tinge and then wrap it very tightly and concentrically until a long, wide, firm, bumpy true cucumber of meat is produced. Bon appetit!”

I bet she asks me out now. Women love artists.

Don’t just do something: stand there!

  1. No, I do not want the government to put an RFID license plate on my car. NO.
  2. Super cool online museum exhibit of “extreme” textiles: lighter, stronger, faster, and totally bizarre materials.
  3. spacemummy has one of those typical Japanese enlightenment cult stories about children nursing mummified corpses. You know.
  4. Don’t sell clove cigarettes in Utah.
  5. VAT GROWN MEAT UPDATE! VAT GROWN MEAT UPDATE! VAT GROWN MEAT UPDATE!
  6. (Local filter) Is this the end of the Balboa Fun Zone? (OC Register, they’ll want registration, sorry)

Dear the Internet

I just spent the four hours from midnight until now waiting for a large technology company to fix their end of the giant mechanical badger we’re building together so that could start it up again. Waiting for someone else to do something for four hours is much more annoying than working for this amount of time.

During this time my eyes started to really tear up and I decided to remove my disposable contacts. When I went to do so I couldn’t find the left one and thought it had fallen out when I was rubbing my eyes in an irritated way earlier.

Just now, hours later, I discovered that this rogue contact had been hiding in one corner of my eye which is why I still couldn’t see too well and was itchy and wondered if I had Eyeball Rot. But no, there was a small piece of plastic stuck up in a corner there somewhere.

I’d give all of you an eczema update but I think I’ve been erotic enough what with the giant mechanical badger and the eyeball issues.

Good night!

Existential isn’t just a buzzword.

Man is only a reed, the weakest in nature; but he is a thinking reed. There is no need for the whole universe to take up arms to crush him: a vapor, a drop of water is enough to kill him. But even if the universe were to crush him, man would still be nobler than his slayer, because he knows that he is dying and the advantage the universe has over him. The universe knows nothing of this.

— Pascal, Pensées

List of formerly funny people

There are several categories of post-funny people. Some of them were funny, then became cocaine addicts, and then got off cocaine and lost their funny. They should have either avoided cocaine in the first place or never quit. These are marked with a “C”.

Some other post-funny people were funny and then became political and serious and have lost their funny, but do not know this. These are marked with a “P”. These people do things that have the structure of skit or standup comedy but are just pissed off political rants, and not even satire. They’re sad.

Finally there is a third category of idiopathic funny-loss; people who were funny but are not now amusing, and the reason is not known.

  • Dennis Miller (P,C)
  • Janeane Garofalo (P)
  • Dick Gregory (P)
  • Robin Williams (C)
  • Dana Carvey
  • Bill Cosby (P)
  • Eddie Murphy (C)
  • David Letterman

Ms. Garofalo quit alcohol which may give her some equivalent to a “C”, although cocaine seems to have a magical humor-removing effect.

comin’ through the door it’s a snub-nose .44

Two Los Primos tacos + nice friends + loud fun rock ‘n’ roll + 1 beer = good Friday evening.

Saw Sexytime Explosion at the Bamboo Terrace. I’m always nervous about friends’ bands, and even more so about friends-of-friends in bands, but they were pretty damn good. I do like me some real punk rock! And it wasn’t all muddy and stupid like most punk. They were pretty tight and they kept up the momentum and obviously they give a shit about this stuff and practice and pay attention. I like a keyboard in a punk band too; it always reminds me of early X with Manzarek. Jackie Ojeda has a Patti Smith/Poly Styrene thing going on with a nice low throaty yowl. The all-male rhythm section holds the two girls up like forklifts, kinda ballet style. Altogether very enjoyable. Couldn’t hear the lyrics and couldn’t hear the guitar, because there’s no PA there so you’re just getting the amps & the vocals old skool punk style, like being at Raji’s or the Cathay de Grande in ’85. Guitarist was doing barre chords on a Gibson SG though, so what’s not to like? And they’re nice people.

Definitely a two thumbs up from this old punk.

Also Jackie is smokin’ hot, like the burning that comes from the fire, and she is my new stalking victim. Gina and Lisa: it’s your task to reassure her that I’m really an okay guy while I am hiding in the bushes outside her house.

The bar was full of plus-size Orange County bro guys. They mostly had shaved heads and you could see the Domestic Violence Anger Muscle throbbing on the backs of their necks. Their t-shirts included these messages:

VAGINA FRIENDLY
NEVER TRUST BITCHES
I FUCK SLUTS

I would suggest that they add:

I GET LAID ONCE PER PAY DAY
HAVEN’T SEEN MY DICK IN FIVE YEARS
SUBLIMATIN’ WITH MY 4X4

But I doubt they’d go with it. As I was getting my beer, one of them complimented me on my choice. “Don’t get the Sierra, man. It fuckin’ tastes like bukkake.” I looked at him for a second and said “How do you know what THAT tastes like?” His buddy coughed beer and my new friend said “You… uhh… don’t want to know.”

In other sex news, some hideous slack-jawed pear-shaped fifty-something burnout trapped D. behind the counter at work tonight and after leering at her for half an hour or so, told her that he’d met his ex wife when she was working there. The whole time of course she’s waving her wedding ring in his face, etc. He then asked her if she’d be into doing some “role playing”. Working with the public, man. You can’t beat it!

The freeway suicide girl story gets sadder each time.

Now it seems she’d had lots of previous drug and alcohol problems and at least one suicide attempt, and had lost custody of her two children because of it; they were in foster care. And apparently (at least for now), her boyfriend was in a German band and they spoke some German, but she was working at the Wal-Mart when she met him. And the credit card they used that night wasn’t theirs. And her boyfriend had tried to off himself when they broke up the last time and they’d reunited in a mental hospital. It’s just awful.

Anyone heard of a techno band called the Klash? Or did he just make that up too?

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