gastropoda

Whatever you do, do not click on any link breathlessly “reporting” on anything related to the Julia mashup being filmed by someone who really should feel bad about her dreck. You’re guaranteed to feel like a contestant on that new “Hurl” reality show. This gives new meaning to the term circle-jerk. Or the Barney theme song for old people. What most amazes me is that when I worked at the Paper of Highest Integrity, reporters were not even allowed to slap political bumper stickers on their cars for fear of being perceived as biased. Yet culture critics can just take roles — however ridiculous or small — in movies that will be covered in their sections. Breathlessly, I might add. And if you want to start taking bets on the suckability quotient of this project, just consider this: When in the history of tortillas has anyone gone shopping for salsa at the temple of elitism? You know all those earthquakes shaking Reno? It’s a 6-foot-tall icon thrashing in her grave.

Anyone else notice the insidious trend on a couple of the “serious” food blogs? It’s creeping Rachaelism. Throw out an EVO here, and a yum there, and pretty soon you’re talking real drivel.

And speaking of dreck, and not feeling bad about it, the NYT’s sin was not only hiring a wrong-about-absolutely-everything wingnut but allowing a “contributing columnist” to phone in a few centimeter-deep thoughts to be awarded prime display. Chicken soup gives you colds. Breast-feeding gives kids allergies. This tossed-off crazy salad made Andy Rooney look like Socrates crossed with George Carlin.

But then these are high times for misdemeanors down by the Taj Sulzberger. What was that Chipotle Grill Bizday/Metro/Styles mishmash all about, anyway, besides filling up column inches amid the house ads? And the Indian restaurants viewed through the cloudy eyes of an academic? The hell he says. Holy Mother of Teresa: I’m an alien but eat with my hands at Saravanaas, and so do half the regulars there on a given day (fingers make amazing pincers for rice and sauce). The only good part was that it made me even more appreciative of how vibrant and rapidly evolving the real India is. What would a sociologist long out of Bologna possibly make of Molto?