Meat Coma

Last night I hit Cheeburger for dinner, and I certainly overdid it. I opted for the classic pound burger (20 oz before cooking), split a basket of frings, and topped it off with an Oreo-Peanut Butter Cup-Cookie Dough Milkshake. Though I had done this all before, I really hope to say that will be the last time. I am quickly becoming an old man in my gluttonous eating habits.

Because it had been a long time since I'd had red meat, this only made things worse. The body produces a specific enzyme to break down red meat and while I couldn't find a link to validate this, I did find a study on the link between red meat consumption and rectal cancer. Just one more reason to steer clear of red meat I'd say. So indeed, my body was lacking this enzyme (think of it as needing antibiotics maybe) and going from zero beef to one pound=trouble. My cheeks got flushed and while I didn't get the meat sweats I felt full-scale awful. A rough estimate says my dinner was a minimum of 3,596 calories (it's fun to be precise) and I am still full as far as I can tell and, either way, still feeling awful. Still, before I felt pretty poorly, I entered a MEAT DELIRIUM. The 3/4th pound burger is actually called "The Delirious" at this place, but let me tell you, when you go beyond 3/4th, still delirious. I was inexplicably giddy so my new mission will be to unlock the euphoric power of meat, all euphemisms aside.

The other day I linked to an article which cited Puffy/Diddy/etc.'s involvement in Tupac's shooting, but it turns out I need to take the advice of the Professor in Real Genius and always check my references. Still, once the allegations are thrown out there the damage is done and I persist in my distrust of Diddy.

In other silly celebrity news, Jamie Lynn Spears beat me to the punch in getting engaged and, while I can't give birth (yet) I'm fairly certain I've fathered several children over the years. And since Katie Holmes is on the cover of that magazine as well, I'll take the time to reach out to Scientology and an ancient reference to it four minutes and twenty-five seconds into that classic track.

Time for some lunch.

No Culture Without Pop Culture

I'm probably playing a broken record here, but the quantity of information on the internet never ceases to amaze and sometimes even overwhelm me. And despite my stumbling upon (no not Stumbleupon) many things here and there, I am continually surprised at my lackluster knowledge of current events. This includes actual relevant news and even all manner of pop culture. As for the former, I've been sadly aloof for some time, but with regard to the latter it's a bit of a shock as I'm usually so on the ball with dopey celebrity news, things like the Jared Leto weight gain and loss I was chatting with a friend about yesterday.

And as I've mentioned before, music is one of these realms as well as I'd never heard of Danity Kane until minutes ago, and I really feel I was better off not knowing. They were even chart-toppers as long ago as 2006. I suppose it's because of my old-fashioned ways and general aversion to reality TV, minus Top Chef. Double eff Danity Kane for being affiliated with Diddy whose involvement in the murder of Tupac seems more and more confirmed as per the article I linked a couple of days ago.

Back to Jared quickly, I have to wonder at the success of his band 30 Seconds to Mars. Note that that video has over twelve million views and yet I find this track from The Used has a scant 33,000 despite it being, by my own estimation somewhat similar in sound, albeit much better. I am an admitted fan of The Used, in spite of their Mormon roots, but it's not like they are publicity or popularity starved, especially given the past relationship between leadman Bert McCracken and Kelly Osbourne about which McCracken is likely still questioned to this day.

And that's a wrap for the time being.

X Gonna Give It To Ya

I am by no means going for a theme of posting pictures of prominent rappers in head-on shirtless poses in my entries, but that's just the way the mops been floppin' these last couple of days. Credit to the Boneyard aka BTB for pointing this DMX interview my way earlier today. After reading that, I don't know whether to laugh or cry, or to worry about X. For some reason, though, I still just find myself respecting DMX a hell of a lot.

Are you following the presidential race?
Not at all.

You’re not? You know there’s a Black guy running, Barack Obama and then there’s Hillary Clinton.
His name is Barack?!

Barack Obama, yeah.
Barack?!

Barack.
What the fuck is a Barack?! Barack Obama. Where he from, Africa?

Yeah, his dad is from Kenya.
Barack Obama?

Yeah.
What the fuck?! That ain’t no fuckin’ name, yo. That ain’t that nigga’s name. You can’t be serious. Barack Obama. Get the fuck outta here.

You’re telling me you haven’t heard about him before.
I ain’t really paying much attention.

I mean, it’s pretty big if a Black…
Wow, Barack! The nigga’s name is Barack. Barack? Nigga named Barack Obama. What the fuck, man?! Is he serious? That ain’t his fuckin’ name. Ima tell this nigga when I see him, “Stop that bullshit. Stop that bullshit” [laughs] “That ain’t your fuckin’ name.” Your momma ain’t name you no damn Barack.

So you’re not following the race. You can’t vote right?
Nope.

Is that why you’re not following it?
No, because it’s just—it doesn’t matter. They’re gonna do what they’re gonna do. It doesn’t really make a difference. These are the last years.

But it would be pretty big if we had a first Black president. That would be huge.
I mean, I guess…. What, they gon’ give a dog a bone? There you go. Ooh, we have a Black president now. They should’ve done that shit a long time ago, we wouldn’t be in the fuckin’ position we in now. With world war coming up right now. They done fucked this shit up then give it to the Black people, “Here you take it. Take my mess.”

Right, exactly.
It’s all a fuckin’ setup. It’s all a setup. All fuckin’ bullshit. All bullshit. I don’t give a fuck about none of that.

We could have a female president also, Hillary Clinton.
I mean, either way it doesn’t matter. I don’t care. No one person is directly affected by which president, you know, so what does it matter.

Yeah, but the country is.
I guess. The president is a puppet anyway. The president don’t make no damn decisions.

The president…they don’t have that much authority basically?
Nah, never.

But Bush pretty much…
You think Bush is making fuckin’ decisions?

He did, yeah, he fucked up the country.
He act like he making decisions. He could barely speak! He could barely fuckin’ speak!
Can’t be serious. He ain’t making no damn decisions.

Well Barack has a good chance of winning so that might be something.
Good for him, good for him.

X gonna give it to ya...

High-atus

It has been some days since I jotted anything down here, perhaps a fortnight, and it's good to be back. It's strange that many bloggers, and obviously I am including myself here, feel compelled to address their lapses in posting. I suppose it perpetuates the illusion of readership.

Last night as I headed out on a run I shouldn't have been on I encountered a familiar scent. At first I thought it was a skunk, but the smell was awfully isolated and the smiling faces I saw in a car brought back a few memories. "Wait a minute," I thought, "I used to be hip, I used to be cool." I actually wasn't thinking that at all, because the moment you start thinking you're cool you become instantly not. But we all know what mary j. smells like (which I had hoped to call Watson, extrapolating from Spiderman, which I thought was clever but never took off. This is like being cool. The moment you think you're being clever, you probably aren't). Mostly it made me happy to witness the simple joys of the hotbox, an especially daring move in Highland Park, where the cops are well-known for being quite meddlesome.

Last night I also figured out why I thought a guy coming out of McDonald's last week looked like a spokesperson for the brand doing his best Ronald McDonald impersonation, he worked for DHL. You can get a pretty good idea of the jacket and winter hat from the polo shirt and baseball cap being worn in that photo, but it still can't compete with UPS apparently. Really though, did DHL change there color scheme recently because they always came to my house growing up to pick up manuscripts and I swear they were dressed normal, and not ridiculous.

A final shout-out for the moment goes out to Cookie-pus, perhaps the worst-named children's dessert item in the history of man. Still, he makes one hell of an ice cream cake because they ingeniously incorporate a hint of mint ice cream in the nose region. I found this both unexpected and delicious as I managed to consume about a half or more of one of these at work the other day. I'm banking on the cake I ordered from Thomas Sweet last night to beat the pants off Carvel's offering, but I could be wrong, especially as I've yet to consume a Fudgy the Whale. Aw hell, I just like ice cream cake. And I'll be sure to pour some out for The Corner Confectionary, which met a sad demise this month. This place was an institution and Highland Park is much worse off without this bit of character.

Worthy of Its Own Post? I Think So.

I'd meant to drop a link to this article on Hilary's campaign strategy on Friday, but either ran out of time or forgot.

My favorite line might have been this gem from Tom Vilsack, former Iowa Governor and Co-Chair of the Clinton campaign:

“I think the Clinton campaign has had a strategy on focusing on the states that are going to be important in November --in states that are large in population and in diversity of population. And that strategy has worked at this point.”

That is one Hell of a strategy. I wouldn't want to offend by calling it common sense. I do think it would be funny if someone from one the crap, unimportant states were to come across that quote and be offended.

My other favorite nugget was this:

Vilsack also pointed to a Pew Research survey released yesterday that showed some Democrats defecting to vote for John McCain if Obama is the nominee. The poll shows Obama leading Clinton by nine points nationwide, and leading McCain by seven points in a general election match up. But twice as many white Democrats would vote for McCain in a head-to-head match up with Obama than those who would vote Republican against Clinton. The poll also showed that older, less educated and lower-income voters were all more likely to vote for McCain if Obama is the nominee.

Maybe the headline should read, "Study shows dumb old poor people more likely to vote for McCain rather than black man; Democrats twice as racist as they are sexist." I mean, let's not mince words and beat around the bush. I don't need the truth about the American mentality buttered up for me. I also take all polls with an enormous grain of salt. Salt is pretty tasty, though.

Warm Weather Spawns Crazy Behavior

I don't know if this is actually true. The things I've witnessed lately haven't even been all that strange, as I'd actually consider them more lapses in judgment or amusing coincidences. But I thought I read somewhere at sometime that climate changes can trigger changes in behavior. How about we just say maybe it has influenced or affected standard mental function.



Before I forget, this morning as I exited Penn Station the viral advertising offering of the day was Crick-ettes. Mine happened to be bacon and cheese flavored. This was sponsored by Bizarre Foods and was accompanied by an iTunes gift card to download three free episodes of the show. I wonder how many people will tune in as a result. I know I won't, and not just because I don't have the Travel Channel. I feel I should point out that these mf's contain silicon dioxide. While I don't exactly treat my body as a temple when it comes to my dietary choices, I think I can do without any of this shit in my system. Sounds awfully like ingesting glass particles to me. Holler at me if you want a little sampler of bacon and cheese flavored crickets.

So last week — Thursday evening sounds about right — I decided I would go out for a three mile run. I hadn't run in about eight-plus weeks and while my legs certainly weren't healed, I don't plan on them healing anytime soon either. It's the "fuck it" attitude that tends to get my body in trouble but, at the same time, if I listened to my body, I might never move. So right, as I'm striding jauntily (I just really wanted to say striding jauntily and I'm not sure it even applies) down an incline in one of my usual haunts I note a Volkswagen wagon running a stop sign. Maybe not such a big deal, but it was going to run the stop sign and barrel on into me. So I paused for a moment, pointed at the large stop sign, did the shoulder shrug, shook my head at a medium speed, and continued on my merry way, hoping to be able to drop a wave or a finger later should our paths briefly re-cross. Alas, no dice. Nice thing is though, that when people nearly pancake you they do drive more alertly and cautiously, at least until they go to sleep and forget about it.

Yesterday, walking down 6th Avenue, I witnessed, I swear, a guy put a textbook in a blue mailbox. Maybe I am the one going crazy? Probably.

This morning, passing a McDonald's, also on 6th Avenue, I noticed a patron exiting the establishment outfitted, coincidentally, in a red and yellow fleece accompanied by a red and yellow winter cap. This guy should be hired on as the unofficial spokesperson for McDonald's if he loves it enough to be rocking their gang colors anyway.

Also, every time I walk by the little bus booth on the northeast corner of 27th Street and 6th Avenue, I inadvertently look over at the giant 2xist ad promoting some reasonably high-fashion undies. I always think the dude is Freddie Ljungberg except that he does ads for Calvin Klein. As a former underwear model myself I have to say, this ad and a Freddie Ljungberg google search may subliminally have convinced me to go buy myself some fancy undies. Undies=great word.

Finally, I think I could write a whole book on walking. In the meantime I'll try to put together some thoughts on it in a forthcoming post. I'm just throwing it out there so I don't forget, which I am likely to anyway.