All about me.
This joke has been cribbed about a million times recently, but I originally wrote it — with some assists from Angie Epley (center square) and Whitney Pastorek (B-6) — in 2007, so I’m claiming credit for the original idea. Plus, mine is funnier. Prove me wrong, internet. It’s time once …
A new month is come again, and that can only mean one thing: obsessive-compulsive replacement of various social media icons. No, wait, it means two things! It also means that Meetup.com, which I signed up for in far more optimistic times, will be sending me a list of activities it …
As I’ve mentioned before, as a living, functioning human with working taste buds, I prefer sugary soda, but as a crypto-diabetic man-bear, I mostly confine myself to diet. However, since the introduction of lo-cal pop, folks in both the amateur and professional theaters of Carbin-Nation have been trying to game …
Desperate times call for desperate actions, and desperate people, apparently, call for desperate sandwiches. While cheapness and ease of assembly are a big part of the appeal of the sandwich, they’re qualities it’s altogether too easy to overdo, and you end up with something that sullies the entire notion of …
Humans are the only animals that can make metaphors or moral judgments. Unfortunately, we make far too few of the former and far too many of the latter. The appealing thing about placing social problems in a moral context is that it allows you to start ignoring the problem; if …
I have never been particularly fond of Tennessee Williams. Part of this may be because I’m not his intended audience, but with very few exceptions (I enjoy A Streetcar Named Desire), I find his stuff a little, well, airy for my taste. Reading his plays and novels, and comparing them …
You can often tell more about a political movement by the things they choose to remain silent about than the things about which they speak out. In the last election, it was telling that the latter-day Birchers known as the Tea Party movement were instrumental in defeating Proposition 19, a …
English cuisine’s reputations for being bland and flavorless is not entirely justified. Sure, the things they do to vegetables should be prosecutable at the Hague, but there are plenty of dishes in the British national menu that are quite tasty. The problem with them isn’t that they’re bland; the problem …
Though this may be on the verge of changing — Dr. Pepper, having owned the brand for a while, is starting to ramp up its marketing and distribution and use it as a competitor of Mountain Dew — but Sun Drop is a valuable lesson in the risks of underselling. …
Decide was, for many years, the Old Faithful of Florida death metal. While other bands would come and go, form and re-form, expand their sound into tech-death or prog-jazz or contract it by way of ‘getting back to the basics’, Glenn Benton and his not-so-merry men could be counted on …
In the Sandwich Century’s first clash with the authenticity problem, I found myself approaching this one — a south-of-the-equator version of the standard steak sammy — at something of a loss. Australian food culture, with its Thirst-flavored Life Savers and its Vegemite, has always struck me as something like a …
Despite precedent, and with the exception of some future installments of Lots o’ Soda, I normally drink diet pop. The reason for this is that (a) I am addicted to soda and (b) I weigh six thousand pounds, so in order to extend my life beyond the time it takes …
When I was thirty-two and still living alone in the rented house near the river, I found myself in conflict with the radio announcer. Nowadays I need quiet to write; I cannot abide even the softest music, or the flicker of the television with the sound off. But then I …
Having been to the Conservative Political Action Conference before, I can testify firsthand that even at the best of times, it’s a non-stop Ronald Reagan strokefest. But this year, being what would have been Reagan’s 100th birthday had Alzheimer’s disease not finished the job that stupidity started, it’s a downright …
Even in the wicked world of chanson, where a borderline pedophile like Serge Gainsbourg or an accused Nazi collaborator like Maurice Chevalier can become a massive international superstar, Georges Brassens was an odd duck. Born in the beach town of Sète (which he remembered fondly in song his entire life), …
