Culturally Discombobulated

Croissant misery

America, we need to talk about your casual disregard for the sanctity of the croissant. It’s not a sandwich bread to be stuffed with chicken salad or sausage like some tawdry, half-stale silce of Mighty White; you can’t pump it full of grease and fried egg like silicone into an aging starlet – its simplicity is its beauty.  Just look at this thing, this McMuffinized bastardization that I picked up at SFO this morning! I’m faintly revulsed by it, and myself for eating it*. We might as well have spat in the face of a Frenchman or booed buring La Marseillaise.

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* In mitigation, I simply ordered the breakfast sandwich and didn’t notice

Rubio-bot

Rubio-bot is a technical triumph, but I do have a bone to pick with the engineering team on purely aesthetic grounds; if you can create such a sophisticated human simulacrum why go with a final design that screams State Farm insurance rep?

Pizza and patriots

Moving shames you as you remember just how much nonsense you have accumulated. I have a terrible habit of picking up paper and local advertisments that tickle me somewhat.

A few years back, during the height of the Tea Party phenomena, I took and kept this sheet of local tea party groups. I think I was just struck by how much they seemed to love pizza.

I mean “Pizza Plus Fun” doesn’t sound like the sort of place from which social revolutions are down – though it sounds like it probably does have a ball pool.

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Saint and Sinner

Well, that was a dull debate by the Democrats tonight. From a purely entertainment perspective they really can’t compete with the ghoulish menagerie making up the Republican field. As it is, the Bernie and Hilary show plays out like a dull episode of The Odd Couple – and, I don’t mean the Tony Randall – Jack Klugman Odd Couple, we’re talking the Matthew Perry Odd Couple here.

For a more compelling odd couple, here’s a fascinating early 90s clip of Saint and Greavsie that’s making the rounds as they conduct the League Cup draw with the future 45th (and final) President of the United States, Donald “Dark Destroyer” Trump. It’s chilling watching Trump gleefully acknowledge his part in bringing about a cup tie between Manchester United and Leeds United. If you’re willing to allow that mayhem to go ahead, you’re more than happy to go to war with Iran just to watch the world burn. It’s an interesting clip, a bizarre intrusion of brash American razzmatazz in early 90s ITV football coverage. It is ridiculous. Whatever next? Jim Rosenthal duetting with Tony Bennett? Joey from Friends presenting Top Gear? Read the rest of this entry »

Iowa (not be be mistaken for Idaho)

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It’s the young staffer in charge of organizing O’Malley’s caucus night party that I feel the most for. They probably began this journey with the optimism that maybe, just maybe, their guy could do something special that they were getting in on the ground floor, and, the truth is, it ends on a cold night in Iowa with them putting out for their colleagues in campaign headquarters a pitiable dinner spread of cold Little Caesar pizzas and a Cookie Puss.

As it is, the “O” in Martin O’Malley will now be pronounced as a wistfully sad, drawn-out diphthong, as in “ohhhhhhhh, that didn’t go well, did it?”

Some other thoughts on tonight. In the mid-90s, British band KLF burnt a million pounds as an act of performance art. Twenty years later they may be interested to discover that their work has plagiarized by donators to the Jeb! campaign.

It’s also unclear as to whether the Iowans saw their shadows or not, which kind of sucks as I’m ready for winter to be over.

I also don’t know if I can take ten more months of “feel the Bern” or “Cruz Control” placards and chants.

Oh, and I hope that young staffer is doing okay and is having a good time in this late hour getting disgracefully wasted in downtown Des Moines.