Archive for March, 2018

Showers the color of Champagne

March 2018

This is how pathetic we the sane were: We were merely looking forward to taco trucks on every corner. Turns out the traitors were strategizing to guarantee caviar carts at every desk. Joke’s on them, though: We may have to walk a little farther for our Tuesday indulgence, but the 1 percent are hogging all the Beluga. Deplorables will have to continue continue scrabbling for off-brand Wonder Bread crumbs. Using the bags for shoes.

A Coke and a syringe

March 2018

I always wonder whether diabetes would be epidemic today if Americans had been sold mayonnaise instead of ketchup with their fries. Fat and fat have to be better than fat and sugar. Not to mention the satiety factor: You don’t need many duck-fat-roasted fingerlings dunked in chipotle mayonnaise to feel very happy very fast. They’re like a potato Spritz.

Sheet pans, blindingly white

March 2018

I keep thinking of how the Butter Guzzler was too far ahead of her time. She let her true colors show and was ostracized. Today she’d be a wingnut heroine, waving her doffed hood like a proudly bloody apron.

Also, too, as it becomes increasingly clear what a reality shitshow fraud America was sold (as this great piece on the reverse-engineering demonstrates), it’s also worth considering how the star-making machinery made so many sleazy characters in the fud world household names with ridiculously lucrative empires built on the backs of the gullible. You’d think we’da learned from the Frugal Gourmet, but no. It was all a Croc of orange mierda.

Billy Beer, now kosher

March 2018

Jimmy Carter was not far ahead of his time, although he did install solar panels on the White House roof 40+ years ago. All the news out of Mar-a-Lago, staffed by foreign workers, makes you realize how mean-spirited it was for Republicans to force him to give up his peanut farm. He coulda opened an agriturismo to sell access to his presidency. Not enough $lust in his heart, though.


March 2018

The softer the tortilla the longer the ingredient list. // You can tell exactly what the food will be like when the menu lists prices ending in .95 — no one is fooled. // I own a caper spoon. // “Outrage of the Youngs” will definitely not involve Chianti. Maybe favas.