Now, This Is Happening

We've already been over my love of HBO's The Wire, and my bottomless contempt for those who "don't get it." However, I will freely admit Walter Cronkite biting the big one yesterday isn't exactly a cause for pause, let alone an LTNA post, as I'm under the age of 60 (barely), and don't really have any thoughts on the matter. Frankly, I think the guy had a pretty decent run. I mean, he was 92 frickin' years old. Besides, dying "suddenly" is so last month. 

Taking all that into account, along with the fact that I am quite certain no one wants to hear my thoughts on the current situation in Pakistan (more to the point, I have no thoughts on Pakistan because I am willfully ignorant on the matter), I'm just going to remind the world-- i.e., Carl, the person who reads this blog (hey pal!)-- that The Wire is televised manna. I haven't blogged much this week because there's not been much for me to talk about; but, I figure, why let that stop me, when I can regurgitate material from posts of yore?

I've been re-watching The Wire in its entirety over the past couple of weeks. If you're a Wire fan, you undoubtedly realize that saying "in its entirety" is slightly redundant, because that is the only way to watch The Wire. Once you watch one episode, your life is pretty much fucked for the next month, because you realize the entire 60 hours of the saga deserve review. It can't be helped. 

As soon as I wrap up this pathetic excuse for a blog post, I'll be firing up the old DVD machine and finishing up Season 3 along with my case of Sam Adams Light. Yup, home alone on a Saturday night with McNulty and the gang keeping me company through my teevee. Don't be jealous. 

The only way to make my night more awesome would be to fall asleep while eating a waffle sundae and crying. However, I just did that Thursday night, and I pride myself on being unpredictable. Translation: I will most likely wake up in my laundry basket tomorrow afternoon, amidst the detritus of a McGangBang with a side of self loathing, while Montell Jordan's "This Is How We Do It" plays on repeat through my iTunes. I love the weekend!

Things with More Appeal.18

A few weeks ago I saw the documentary-ish film Food, Inc. I wouldn't recommend it if you ever want to eat again. But, if you are actually interested in what exactly goes into the taco salad or whatever traditional Mexican delicacy you're shoving into your Chalupa-hole, you should definitely watch it.

It's really only a "documentary" in the sense that Michael Moore movies are documentaries; but, I found this one way less self-righteous and bloated. Food, Inc. indeed takes a definite point of view, but if you're on the opposing side, you're probably Lucifer. 

I've mentioned before that I take more interest than many in just what the fuck it is we're all eating, and this flick is pretty much entirely about that. The nice thing about seeing the movie is that it doesn't involve reading books or actually doing anything. And, every ticket comes with a free soapbox, so you can go yell on the nearest corner after it's over and hoot n' holler about how ConAgra and Yum! foods are giving us all "the diabetes." 

Indeed, you will feel like your supermarket is less a place to procure food and sundries, and more a place to get some palatable poisons, after seeing this film. But fret not, the next time you get blackout drunk, I'm confident you'll still be able to rationalize eating that bacon cheeseburger chimichanga with extra syrup. "Pobody's nerfect!"

What I like most about Food, Inc. is that, at the end, the filmmakers include specific ways that we can all take action and seize control of an industry that seems to control us. In the end, they show that it's not entirely hopeless, after all. Just...mostly hopeless.

Oh, Good. I Was Just Saying Law & Order: SVU Reruns Aren't On Enough.

These pockmarks can see through your lies.

Law & Order, Law & Order: SVU and Law & Order: Criminal Intent make up approximately 50% of cable programming. It's true.* I don't think there is any time of day where you don't at least have the option of getting a healthy dose of Dick (Wolf). This is fact, and has been fact since the dawn of cable syndication. However, it seems that my cable company started carrying a newish channel within the past month or so, called Sleuth.

Sweet Abba-Zaba. When they named this channel "Sleuth," I think they missed the opportunity to capitalize on what this channel really should have been called, which is "You're Home at 1:30 PM, Living on the Dole and Probably Fat, So Here, Watch Law & Order: SVU All Fucking Day, Except Sometimes We Show Criminal Intent Episodes Too, Just to Fuck With You, Fatty." I know the channel is owned by NBC Universal, because of duh, but jeebus, it is nothing but L&O spin-offs!

I, like everyone else who has ever seen these shows, thinks SVU sucks the least, because it does. Why would you have a plain old murder, when you can get a side of rape for the same price?  I can only figure they throw in the CI reruns as a stern warning to us losers who lay about all day, fantasizing over the crimes we'd like to commit: Don't even start making arrangements to kill your elderly neighbor, steal his identity and start cashing his Social Security checks, because if you do, you're going to have to talk to Vincent D'Onofrio. Indeed, that is deterrent enough. Either that, or the CI reruns are considered intermission to get out of the fucking house, maybe look for a job.

But, joke's on you, Sleuth Network! I can usually find a rerun of 'Feld (this is what I call Seinfeld, because I am cool, but also too busy to say "Sein") to pass the time until another ep of SVU comes back on. I hope the next one's from Olivia's bulldyke-haircut era, but before Stabler got hair plugs. Those are classic!

*This is not true.

Puke.

Two friends of mine directed me to a recently discovered atrocity, a website called Fancy Fast Food. Rather than dwell on what it may mean that more than zero people knew this was something that would be right up my alley-- what with my penchant for masochistic food porn (This Is Why You're Fat is my homepage, after all)-- I've decided to share the horror with those of you who end up reading this blog accidentally after it turns up in your Google search for photos of Oprah Winfrey's bush.* 

Basically, this website gives detailed instructions on how to makeover various fast food items to make them into "fancy" foods. Instead, what happens is no. Just, NO. The photo above is the result of a makeover of some White Castle shitty bullshit burgers into "Tapas de Castillo Blanco." Did I mention "no," yet?

I can't actually bring myself to get through all of the instructions, because once I read sentences like "Meanwhile, using a food processor, blend the french fries into a pulp with a little water. Do the same with the beef (no water necessary) until it’s ground and moldable. Hand-roll the ground beef into meatballs, then pan-fry them until they start to brown," I usually have to take a quick break to vomit for the rest of my fucking life. I didn't think it was possible to make White Castle food even more of a sickout puke party; but, I guess I stand corrected.

*True story. Hey, I'll take a "unique" user however I can get it.

I Am What's Wrong With This Country

So, I mentioned last week that I'm unemployed right now, making clear that said unemployment is indeed the impetus for my renewed attention to this blog. I've never been unemployed before, and it is taking a toll on my comfort level, to say the least. Not knowing where I'm going to get my next dollar is an uneasy feeling. I'd prefer not to suck dick for coke (never mix business with pleasure), so working jobs I hate has always been the more palatable option. Um, so to speak.

But, today I got my notice from The Man saying that I've been awarded unemployment pay. Remember those feelings of doom and malaise I was talking about, woven in with blueprints of suicide? GONE. Hooray for free money!

Now, I've got about a week before I actually start receiving my free money, but did I mention free money? Suddenly, all those years I spent rolling calls and making reservations for aging yuppie assholes at Katsu-ya seem like an even bigger waste of time than they did before. If all I had to do was get laid off to still get enough money to live a pretty lovely life, I should have seen to this happening a long time ago.

I want to celebrate with the free money I don't even have yet that's burning a hole in my pocket. Peanut butter and crack sandwiches for everyone-- on me!

No Sir, I Assure You I Am Not Going to "Love [Your] Nuts"

You may already know that the ShamWow™ Guy is also the Slap Chop™ Guy-- not to mention that he's everyone's favorite hooker-Slap Chopping™ enthusiast. Well, that fucking Slap Chop™ commercial just came on NatGeo HD and weirded me out anew, so I decided to share the suffering. I mean, I was just talking about that dipshit, after all.

Oh yes, it was the long version, so you're going to get three minutes and change of Vince's nut-Slapping™ intensity and cryptic orders to "stop having a boring life." Maybe I should start assaulting prostitutes to spice things up, too.

OR...Slap Chop™!

He also demonstrates how easy it is to Slap™ together standard breakfast fare (you know, hard boiled egg™, pickle™, green onion™ plus a pinch™ of ham™, pounded™ like an unruly whore™-- I mean, Slap Chopped™-- into a fine paste™, just like no one ever used to ever make™ ever), because "YOU DON'T HAVE TIME FOR BREAKFAST."™ 

Here you go, sweetums. An oldie but creepy, just for you. 

After watching this again, I think I need an adult.