Cheddar & Rye

This isn't a sandwich, but a cocktail. I invented it. Last night. It goes like this:

• Buy a bottle of Old Overholt (it is the manliest looking bottle on the shelf) and an econo-sized block of sharp cheddar cheese.
  
• Put an ice cube in a cup.
  
• Pour some rye in that same cup.
  
• Break off (don't get a knife dirty for this) a pretty huge hunk of the cheese.
  
• Drink the whiskey; eat the cheese.

Figure 12: The Manliest Bottle on the Shelf

Ok, I guess it isn't a cocktail. It's just cheap rye on the rocks and a hunk of cheese. What. You got a problem with that?

The top four lines from "Against the Wind" by Bob Seger

• "I wish I didn't know now what I didn't know then."
  
• "Never worried about paying or even how much I owed."
  
• "I was living to run and running to live"
  
• "I found myself alone, surrounded by strangers I thought were my friends"

Also, the top concept from the song: the transition across the three verses from running to seeking shelter and back to running against the wind (first a youthful running against & not even noticing the wind, then with age noticing and seeking shelter against the wind, and then the final running against the wind as the conscious choice of the aging rocker burdened with worldly duties).

It's so surprising to finally listen to these lyrics that have gone in one ear and out the other my whole life, and find them so poetic.

Also, the piano solo.

Steroid-related hypotheticals

• A guy who took 'roids for the same amount of time as Big Mac. This guy, though, wasn't as good. He never made it to the big leagues. He never even made it to AAA. His minor league career was a series of moves from one medium-sized city to another, never making all that much money, always working his ass off, and now that he retired he is sorta fucked as far as his employable skill set goes. Even in low A baseball he was around incredible players from all over the country, all sacrificing so much to try to make a career in pro ball. These guys were so good any little edge could be what separated them. So this guy started using the 'roids. Let's say by some weird circumstance he used exactly the amount of 'roids Big Mac used, through the exact same time-frame, breaking the exact same laws and all that. Do we hate this guy? Do we punish him the same way? Do we pity him more? Is it more tragic? Is he less guilty because he was less of a role model?
  
  
• How about a guy who took HGH until the day before it was outlawed by the mlb. Before that, let's say he took, Idunno, andro or whatnot until it was illegal. Basically this is a guy who took every available PED until the day before it made the list of illegal substances. He never broke the laws of the US or the mlb. Do we judge him the same way anyhow? Are the morals involved attached to laws and regulations?
  
  
• What about like how people get upset at certain countries' gymnastics programs. Say they don't use any PEDs, but they start rigorous training really early in a kid's life. It maybe stunts the kids' growth. But of course it pays off, they become amazing gymnasts. How about that? Is that ok? No drugs or nothin'. No laws broken. Just a really amped up training regimen. Is that fair? To dip below our own culture's ideas of when is too young to push a kid that hard? At what age do you draw the line?
  
  
• How about the guy who took bum 'roids, it was a hoax, someone sold him saline solution for ten years. He shot it up thinkin' it was 'roids, he did his workouts, he did his training thinking the 'roids were making him stronger when it was really just his workout schedule. He improved a lot, made a career, eventually stopped using when the mlb started testing more, but always wrongly attributed his moderate success to the roids.

I'll be the first to admit,

I like instant mashed potatoes better than mashed potatoes.

I am sorry about this.

The MDOAT (Most Delicious Omelet of All Time)

• Have some leftover black olive St. Louis style pizza in the fridge.
  
• Have some delicious homemade hot sauce your friend made.
  
• You probably have some eggs, right?
  
• But do you have some locally made peppered brie cheese?
  
• Dice the pizza. I cut it first into long strips, then little squares. Squares beyond compare.
  

  Figure 12: This pizza is in the process of being diced

  
  
• Cut up some brie cheese and mix it in there with the pizza.
  
• I got this idea to make it into some sort of like fritterish thing, so I also put cornmeal and a little egg in there, and tried to squeeze it into a cohesive patty, but it didn't work.
  
• So then I just put in the rest of the egg plus another egg and mixed it up and poured it into a little pan and made it into an omelet.
  

  Figure 12: It turned out so beautiful I thought I would cry; I thought I would die

  
  
• See now, what happens is the provel on the pizza melts all up and so does the brie, and the black olives are perfectly salty and well-seasoned to begin with, and the eggs go so good with the cheese, and the sauce is in there too just waiting to be complimented with some home-made hotsauce (pictured, in the jar), plus you were just hungry as SHIT before you started, so lemme tell you, dear readers, maybe it wasn't heaven but you could see it from there. You could take pictures of it.

S.F.F.S.P. Episode 12: The Tot-Rito

• Get a flour tortilla, a pretty big one, preferably one of those awesome ones I think they must make with lard or something that come in bags unmarked except with a ruler to measure the diameter.
  
• Have your roommate be just taking some onion-flavored tater tots out of the oven.
  
• Put about 10 tater tots on your tortilla.
  
• Put some ketchup, some sriracha, and some mayo on there.
  
• Microwave it for too long, in order to make the tortilla do that thing where it gets kinda dry and crunchy.
  
• It sure tasted good last night, though it may never again...

G

G is for a lot of things but for today let's say G is for Gravity.

Because when I was oh let's say 12 I must have learned about Gravity, probably there was an inset on a corner of a page of a brown-paper-bag-dust-jacketed book. It must have been from some source less reputable, though, that there was, there in my 12 year old mind, the strangely potent word Vortex, that fascinating kind of scientific word with both a V and an X, its definition vaguely trailing behind.

The two ideas were there in my 12 year old mind, in my 12 year old brain inside my 12 year old body, inside a blue dodge van that hurtled what I imagined to be tens of thousands of miles from Akron to let's say Utah. They must have been there still beneath that tree, where on a family hike I found it slightly harder to stand from a crouch than it ought to have been.

This is the place, my 12 year old self thought. This is the Vortex, this is a glitch in the structure of Gravity and it has only this subtle effect: that it is slightly harder to stand from a crouch than it ought to be.

G is for Gravity but F is for Fishing pole, and as I recall it now, I guess I had one in segments in my backpack, the longest and most elastic of which arched like a Bow-flex between backpack and tree limb as I rose and fell, flush with the sense of the Momentous.

Help me complete my Magical Bandana Color Vortex

Thee Fyne and Sordid Taile of Gabblecocke the Crabgath'rer

Well, I guess all we know for sure about the guy is he lived long ago, he was a brilliant board arguer and the first Dean of Arguments, he was known for his zero tolerance approach to scab-grappling and filimandering, he probably had a flowing, white beard, he practically invented modern techniques of both ghost-tittification and wang-wrangling as we know them, and you gotta imagine he carried some manner of staff or scepter.

A point about baseball and money I think it is important to keep in mind in these boring times

Yes, it is boring and predictable that the Yankees, what with their payroll about a third larger than that of the next biggest payroll in the mlb and closer to double their NL rival this year (according to this), won the World Series. We have all heard it before, about buying a championship team. And listen, I hate the Yankees as much as the next guy. I felt almost physically sick when they were talking about A-Rod's and Texeira's first rings like the endpoint of a great hero's journey instead of the result of playing on shitty teams for a few more million until now.

BUT, I submit to you the following counter-arguments before you point your hate the wrong way:

• Spending money is American. That is the American way. The Yankees wouldn't make all that money in the first place if they weren't putting out a great product, both on and off the field. Sure they live in a giant metropolis, but I'd be interested to find out how much of their income doesn't filter in from the immediate area. They have I guess what people call a "brand." That is American. Baseball is American. Capitalism is American.
  
• So-called "small-market" teams (don't know about you, but I would love to be the guy with the biggest take of the Florida Marlins' 36 million) still make a SHIT TON of money. Where does the majority of that money go? In the owners' pockets. Every time you go to these annoying new stadiums, with their mall-like interiors and their $10 beers, most of your money is going into the owners' pockets. Every owner in the mlb is making all kinds of money. But guess what? Some owners don't give a flying fuck if their team does well (see the Chicago Cubs up til recently) and some do. Some owners, like some players, will take a couple million less to put more money into building a better product. Don't think for a second the Yankees wouldn't pull in just as much dough if they came in second, and then more of the dough could go to the owners' pockets. But instead they go out and buy the best team in baseball. That is American. That is baseball.
  
• Amid all the talk of Pay-Rod and stuff, it's easy to forget about some long-time Yankees like Andy Pettite or Mariano Rivera. Those guys are old-school, man, playing for the same team for so long. Pettite's salary isn't even all that ridiculous. Almost any player in the mlb will tell you they want to play for a contender, and therefore the Yankees are easily the most desirable team for the players, since they know every single year the front office is going to do everything possible to win.
  

So, I guess what I'm trying to say is, ya, I hate the Yankees, but also I am pissed at every other team for not spending more dough. You know they got it. There's no such thing as an underdog, just owners who don't care enough to make a mil or so less. And I guess that, too, is pretty American. That's baseball.

Shitty Food for Shitty People Episode 12: The Weekly Diet Edition

• Monday: make mac and cheese but stick tuna in there.
  
• Tuesday: make mac and cheese but stick tuna in there.
  
• Wednesday: make mac and cheese but stick tuna in there.
  
• Thursday: make mac and cheese but stick tuna in there.
  
• Friday: cereal
  
• Saturday: make mac and cheese but stick tuna in there.
  
• Sunday: go to Subway

One or more of these statements is true

Needing life is stressful. Life needs stress, but life puts stresses on one's capacity to need. Needing stress is a part of life, because stress isn't just needing life-- stress is also living need.

Shitty Food for Shitty People Episode 12: The Dessert Edition, aka Eat Shit and Die

I went camping and had some leftover marshmallows from "S'mores" (man that is a terrible name, why is it called that, it makes me cringe to even type it). So I made some rice krispy treats, you know. Easy. Not blog-worthy. But then a few days later I realized I still had more generic rice krispies, a few marshmallows, and a chocolate bar I hadn't noticed. So in a temporary fit of over-confidence I decided to try my hand at one jumbo...

Crispy Chocolate Dooky Roll

• Melt some marshmallows and a little butter in a pot
  
• Not too much butter, now
  
• Put just a little shake of generic rice crispies in there and stir it up as smooth as you can get it
  
• DON'T just pour it on some wax paper-- I did that and regretted it
  
• DO pour it onto like a dough-rolling type surface that you have sprinkled with-- get this, this is my real innovation here-- fuckin' NON-DAIRY CREAMER, people. Seriously. It works.
  
• Roll that shit into a little shit.
  
• Meanwhile be melting the chocolate bar you found in your cupboard. Maybe add a dash of milk.
  
• Oh ya I think it seems like a good idea to put the crispy marshmallow dook into the fridge while you melt the chocolate.
  
• But then take it out and pour the melted chocolate over it, and roll it around in the chocolate to coat it.
  
• Then sprinkle a bunch of salted roasted peanuts on there, and roll it around in there so they stick all into the chocolate
  
• Put that shit in the fridge
  
• Save it for when someone special comes to visit
  
• It looks quite literally like shit. Eat it and die a happy man/woman/man-woman.

It was supposed to be like a mixture of

and Instead it turned out looking like something you'd find here. What you gonna do.

Regular generic cheerios mixed with honey nut generic cheerios

I have discovered the greatest cereal. Let me share with you this new recipe.

• Get some generic cheerios.
  
• Get some generic honey nut cheerios.
  
• Pour some of each into a bowl-- oh, half and half, I'd say.
  
• Put milk in that bowl. What kind? Get creative-- there's 2%, 1%, whole, soy, rice, goat, mother's, reconstituted powdered, anything!
  
• A spoon is recommended
  
• I am thinking of commandeering some sort of tupperware container to store this new cereal pre-mixed, since I am, as they say, "on the go."
  
• Careful research has shown generic cheerios take on more milk and exhibit a greater degree of softening/bloating behavior than do their name-brand counterparts, increasing both their refreshingness and deliciousness indices by up to 20%.
  
• However, it is literally impossible to open the inner plastic bags of generic cereal in a way that allows a controlled pour into the bowl; I for one am convinced this convenience is what you pay for when you shell out the big bucks for that ebullient bee on the label, and depending upon your baseline patience level, may just be worth it.

New words for these new times

You guys. It's 2009. We don't have time to say all the syllables we used to say. We're on the go. We're fast-paced. We're active. That's why I will never again ask you if you want to go eat at a restaurant. Instead, I will say "yo you wanna hit a 'straunt?"
You might reply, "ya let's go to [your favorite 'straunt], they got great apps and some bomb-ass 'trées."
Then I might say "ya, man, those 'tizers are to die fer, plus it's like the only place in town where I always order some 'sert."
You will reply "LOVE their 'sert, let's hop in my 'yota and get there."
"Chicks," I will think to myself, "do dig the 'yota, helps you score like Nino Rota," but I will not say this aloud as I get up and start towards the door, suddenly doubling back and explaining, "hold on, man, lemme grab my red bandana, I'm fully 'steenin it tonight."
You will nod thoughtfully and summarize "tonight, every street is gonna be E street."

Recent revelations and sub-revelations

• Adults shouldn't have to say words like "panini," "sammy," or "yummy."
  
• If you think you're good enough, maybe you'll be just that. If you think you aren't, maybe you can be great.
  • Here are the particular memories which have led me to this startling conclusion:
    • When I tried out for the track team in 10th grade I was sprinting, and then suddenly for the first time ever asked myself if I could go any faster, and found out that I could, a lot.
    • When I was in 4th or so grade I was in music class and was singing along all bored when I realized by controlling my throat and mouth I could actually sing the actual pitches I had theretofore falsely imaginined myself to be singing.
• Somehow every previous time I listened to Bach's St. Matthew's Passion I just thought it was "pretty good."
  • Bach, as I have recently been told, as paraphrased by me, said writing invertible counterpoint was easy-- he would just talk to God and write down the conversation.
    • Bob Uecker, on the other hand, said catching a knuckleball is easy-- all you have to do is wait until it stops rolling and pick it up.
    • Charlie Lau, on the other other hand, said there were two theories on hitting the knuckleball, but unfortunately neither of them works.
• Doing the dishes is actually pretty easy, plus then you have something clean to put your food on.
  • Example: eggs.
• The right music, editing, and narration can make you feel sorry for planemos that have been kicked out of their solar systems by gravitational conflicts.
  • "...They're by themselves" -- a real honest-to-God scientist, not some wistful poet.
  
  

The lottery: fuck it

Have you ever noticed that the only people you ever see wasting their money on the lotto is usually really poor people? Plus how many times have you been at a checkout counter waiting to buy like a beef jerkey and a four-pack of Stag, but first you have to wait for someone to buy ten scratch-offs, do them right there, cash in the $4 they won, buy four more, do them right there, cash in the $3 they won, buy three more, do them right there, cash in the $1 they won, buy one more, do it right there, cash in the $1 they won, buy one more, do it right there, bust, fish in their pockets for another dollar of change, buy one more, do it right there, cash in the $2 they won, buy two more, do them right there, cash in the $1 they won, buy one more, bust, fish in their pockets but come up short of a dollar, look around to see if anyone in line looks like they might give them a quarter, then see how everyone is impatient (either to buy their beef jerkey and Stag or to go cash in the $3 they won on scratch-offs) and finally shuffle off after taking like a full minute to count and recount their change and put it back in their pocket?

Wait I started out pissed but now I am just sad because I accidentally remembered the scratch-off buyer's essential humanity, damnit. But still, fuck the lottery.

"Put your tits on the table"

This is a new phrase I'd like to hear used in earnest. It means to assert oneself, like "damn, girl, you really went out there and put your tits on the table tonight." Or it means to be really frank and up front about one's business, like "Ok, let's just all sit down, put our tits on the table, and see where the cards land," or "all right, bitch, you talk a big game, whyn't you put your tits on the table and let's see what's what."

The great thing is that I mean as far as I know it seems like people don't really literally put their tits on the table that often, so this metaphor doesn't have that messy overlap with the literal that can really ruin a phrase for everyone, especially foreigners.

tromboneorfart.com

This is a new website concept I thought of yesterday where users would submit small sound files, and people would vote on whether what they were hearing was a fart or a trombone. Also I think it would be funny if every once in a while it would be Chewbacca.

The local farmers' market: fuck it

I finally got my ass out of bed early enough to go to the little farmer's market in my neighborhood, all excited to buy some basics and maybe some bacon or something. But no. All the food is twice as expensive as the grocery store. That is not why I go to a farmers' market. That is the opposite of why I go to a farmers' market. I guess some people do though, because it was packed with people and dogs, despite the heat. Guess I'm stuck riding to the big one, where I can get three onions for a buck and some asparagus for 75 cents, instead of almost tripping over six dogs so I can not pay four dollars for a tiny purple potato.