The Emerald Arches

Bostonians going to McDonalds

I was watching TV on my day off and I couldn't help but notice that every travel show had the host being sherpa'd around by a 'food blogger'. [Yes, I just turned 'sherpa' into a verb, and past tense no less.] This made me wonder, why am I slaving over a keyboard trying to make an original (I hope) and clever (ditto) humor blog when this whole time I could have been writing about food!? I did post once about food so maybe I should try it again. Here goes:

Working in downtown Boston, there is a plethora of dining establishments at my fingertips. Sometimes it is easy to overlook an ethnic cooking style even though I walk by one of its most famous eateries everyday. Today I say "never again!"

The establishment I speak of is "McDonalds", a very popular Irish establishment on the corner near Faneuil Hall. At first I thought it may have been a Scottish restaurant, but on entering I noticed that a large number of the customers were wearing green jerseys that said "Celtics", which I assume is some local football club. One popular jersey, unsurprisingly,  was "O'Neal". Yes, this was Eire, and there would be no haggis, neeps, or tatties in my immediate future.

The clientele was not primarily Irish, although there were brogues to be heard. It seems that all walks of life have come to appreciate the Celtic cuisine of this "McDonalds". I must say that I was a bit intimidated by the pronunciation of the name. Juanita the cashier assuaged my fears by assuring me that the proper pronunciation is "meek-DONE-als".

The heritage was obvious in the naming of the food. The "Filet O'Fish" sounds like it could have been lifted off the special board of a Galway pub. The prefix "Mc" was also commonly used on the menu. My research into Irish culture taught me that McDonald comes from Mac Domhnuill which, Anglicized, means descended from Donald. Therefore I assume that the McChicken was, at some point in history, descended from chicken. I am not sure about the origins of the McNuggets, but they were formed into the traditional Celtic "lucky charms" shapes; hearts, moons, stars, and clovers (as well as a 'boot' shape for some reason).

Most Americans think that corned beef is traditional Irish cuisine. This is a common misconception, but corned beef only became a staple after immigrant populations settled in proximity to Jewish neighborhoods and adapted brisket to their tastes. Therefore you will find no corned beef at McDonalds, but you will find the old world staples of Big Macs and Shamrock Shakes. The potatoes, rather than being boiled, were fried in a "French" style (I assume as a slight to the Brits). In the mornings they are apparently served in a patty, where they are eaten with the traditional Irish Breakfast, the Sausage McMuffin with Egg.

I was chagrined to find out I had missed the semi-annual "McRib" festival, which I take it is honor of some obscure Catholic saint of pork products.  Apparently during this time otherwise sensible people who hardly ever go to McDonalds gorge themselves on a sloppy pork patty 2-3 times per week! Live and learn, I surely will be in line the next time this porcine proselyte is given his due.

I hope that I have broadened some horizons with this post. Remember that there is a world of food in your neighborhood that may seem exotic, but may become something that stays with you for a long time. I can imagine that the food I ate today is going to stay with me for a long, long time.

French Onion Spoof

Local Blogger Thinks He Could Write a Fake News Article
January 24, 2011/Issue 47-10














Boston, MA- On his blog today, local blogger W. T. Urkey posited that he could, if he was challenged to, write an article for The Onion.

"Well, that is just one of the several 'fake news' outlets for which I think I could write something. I can imitate a newspaper. I don't end my sentences with prepositions. I also generally use 'your' and 'you're' (as well as 'there', 'they're', and 'their') properly, which is a dying ability. Sometimes I use 'to' instead of 'too', but only when I am typing to[sic] fast." He is reported to be able to type fifteen words a minute.

There is more to writing 'fake news' than grammar, however. When asked about his sense of humor a coworker, who wanted to remain anonymous, was quoted as saying, "Yeah, I guess he is funny sometimes. If you talk that much you'll hit eventually. I usually tune him out though, most of us do, it's sort of a survival mechanism really."

W.T. Urkey has not applied to any of these organizations to which he referred, but said that a friend told him he could probably do the job. "Well, she said they probably have a staff of professionals, but that if all of them fell to cholera or something, maybe I could get a chance to write about something. It's not like it's that ambitious, I'm not trying to write for The Wall Street Journal or The Metro here. I just try to devote my time to what 'pays the bills'." Sources say he rarely pays bills.

When asked what sort of article he would write, Urkey said, "I don't know, maybe "Server Complains About European Tourists" or "Twenty-One Year-Old Man 'Totally Knows How to Score' After Reading Maxim" something like that. Unless those have already been done. They seem to have covered a lot of ground over the years."

His father had this to say, "Writing for an onion? We have a whole bag of them sitting in the pantry! Why doesn't he write for a new place to live instead?"

W. T. Urkey believes that the nearly 300 page views that his blog has received in the last few weeks shows that he has potential. "I'm really not sure, maybe fifty or sixty,"  he responded when asked how many of those views were from his own computer, "That's still pretty impressive, right? I mean I've only promoted it on Facebook."

At press time, Urkey has no actual plans to write anything that will help him financially.

This is my sidekick, Mr. Mister

I have been (briefly) in bands, and I know from experience that naming a band is one of the hardest things, aside from getting a drummer to show up. This process causes endless debate, which often spills out into the outer circle of friends, and the bass player is typically ignored. Sometimes you hit; Guided by Voices, The Clash, Judas Priest, The Rolling Stones, etc. Some bands become really enamored with their names, ie Bad Company wrote a song called Bad Company for their album Bad Company. Big Country did the same thing with their name. Some band names are bad enough that I wonder how they were picked, and which names were voted down. I started a game of thinking of the worst band names I could think of. The rule was that the name had to be bad, the band could be good or bad. The hardest part was being even-handed and not picking on bands that I don't like and sparing ones I do. This is the (abridged) list that we came up with, special thanks to Ben "Danger" Didsbury, bass player for "Coo & Howl" (ahem). [also Al, Tom, Ali, and Paul for their imput.]

Numbers are an almost certain sign of a bad band name (and a bad band) except U2 and the B52's.
Eve6, 7Mary3, UB40, Maroon5, SR71, Blink182, Sum41, Matchbox20

Animal names are suspect, especially ironic ones, and for Pete's sake use some new animals.
The Lime Spiders, Pink Spiders, The Arctic Monkeys, Poi Dog Pondering, Three Dog Night, Band of Horses; Sea Wolf, Wolf Tickets, Wolfmother, Guitar Wolf, Deerhunter, Deertick, Deerhoof, Pepper Rabbit, Frightened Rabbit, The White Rabbit Band, White Rabbits, Bad Rabbits, Big Bear, Minus the Bear, Grizzly Bear, Panda Bear, Bear Hands, Bear in Heaven... and the worst of all, A Flock of Seagulls

Spell the damn word correctly, I am looking at you, late 90's!
Staind, KoRn (I know the 'R' is supposed to be backwards, even worse!), Puddle of Mudd, Mudvayne, Linkin Park, Limp Bizkit, N'SYNC, RATT (ok RATT is from the 80's)

Some genres seem to favor bad names universally,'emo', 'jam', 'psychedelia' and 'third wave ska' specifically. I am not letting them off the hook.
Jimmy Eat World, Sunny Day Real Estate, Taking Back Sunday, 30 Seconds to Mars, Fallout Boy; moe., O.A.R., Leftover Salmon, Deep Banana Blackout; Bloos Magoos, Strawberry Alarm Clock, Buffalo Springfield, Jefferson Airplane, Moby Grape; Less Than Jake, The Mighty Mighty Bosstones, Big D and the Kid's Table, Big Lick, Reel Big Fish

Some bands are just trying too hard with their names.
Black Rebel Motorcycle Club, ... and You Will Know Us By the Trail of the Dead, Under the Influence of Giants, Godspeed You Black Emperor, Death Cab For Cutie, Vampire Weekend, Sixpence None the Richer, The The, Mr. Mister, Lady Antebellum, TV on the Radio, Neutral Milk Hotel

Don't use names (or nicknames) that aren't yours, and then get mad when people think they are your names!
Hootie and the Blowfish, Belle and Sebastian, Margot and the Nuclear So-and-So's, Dexy's Midnight Runners, Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros, Echo and the Bunnymen

If you are a 'rock band', try to sound like you a have a pair.
Angels and Airwaves, Candlebox, Golden Earing, Silverchair, Lifehouse, Afghan Wigs, Trust Company

Try to make your name fit your sound
Five for Fighting (some hardcore band could have used that name, what about 'Two for Flinching' instead?)

Some names just scream 'douche'!
Savage Garden, I Love You But I've Chosen Darkness, She Wants Revenge, Avenged Sevenfold, The Artist Formally (and currently) Known as Prince, Spandau Ballet, Wham!, Depeche Mode, Cream

If you must name your band after an illness, make it a cool sounding one like Anthrax.
Mono, Dengue Fever, the Hives

Hey 1970's, don't think you're getting away...
The Doobie Brothers, Bread, Ambrosia, Stealers Wheel, Ginger Baker's Airforce, Mott the Hoople

I just plain don't like these names (some of these acts are awesome, some suck eggs)
Rascal Flatts, Better Than Ezra, The Flying Burrito Brothers, The Smashing Pumkins, Soft Cell, Nickelback, Godsmack (sorry I know I said I would wait a month!), Kings of Leon, Plain White T's (I just threw up a little), The Shins, Can, Hot Tuna, Boz Scaggs, Captain Beefheart, Radiohead, Audioslave, Velvet Revolver, Englebert Humperdink, Fountains of Wayne, Blonde Redhead, Los Lonely Boys

It is so hard to end this list, so I am going to end with bad names that describe the band, which ironically makes them good names.
Insane Clown Posse, Miami Sound Machine, Men Without Hats, She & Him, Four Non-Blonds, C&C Music Factory, The Band

For the record I know that other people have written on this topic, and there are many, many other terrible band names out there (you should see my notebook!). So feel free to comment with more!

To Catch a Monkey Predator

New Feature!

Being that it's winter, and therefore I'm broke, I have rediscovered the cheap entertainment that is Redbox. Everytime I visit my local 'Caja Roja', I tend to rent one movie that looks like it might be good, and another that I know will probably be terrible. Yesterday I rented "Predators" starring Adrian Brody and "The Lost Tribe" starring Lance Henriksen. I know, I said one should be good, but I liked the first Predator movie so much that I'm a sucker and watch all of them. "Get to the Choppah!"

Since I like making rules for survival so much, the new feature is "How to survive a Red Box horror movie!" In "The Lost Tribe", a team of anthropologists discover the 'missing link' on a remote island north of the Antilles. This 'missing link' so offends the Catholic Church that they send a team of mercenaries, led by Lance Henriksen of course, to kill all of the witnesses. Of course the 'missing link' is still alive and kills everyone. So here is how to survive on an island full of 'monkey predators'.

1. Stay away from Lance Henriksen.
This is pretty good advice in general. I know, he has been the hero in a few of  these movies, but not lately. In the movies where he wasn't a bad guy, pretty much everyone around him dies, so I might avoid him even in real life.

2. If you think you saw something in a treetop, don't say "It was nothing!"
If it was nothing, you would not be staring at it, would you? It could be a 'missing link predator', staring at you with thermal vision.

3. 'Monkey Predators' are dangerous, so if you see a camp full of guns grab a couple!
If you are stuck on a tropical island and people keep disapearing, and you find a tent full of heavy ordinance, at least grab a pistol!

4. If you are alone, and being pursued through a jungle by something scary, slide down a muddy slope.
This worked for Arnold in "The Predator" and it works for 'random blond actress #1' here. She goes a step further and uses viscous sludge that drips off of a grape-like plant as well. The point is, just because your pursuers are primates, doesn't mean that they don't have thermal vision! Assume everything in the jungle has thermal vision and active camouflage. Besides, being covered in mud makes everyone look more 'bad-ass'.

You be the star!

Just because you aren't in a Redbox horror movie, that doesn't mean you can't make your own movie (and I am not talking about the kind from my last post). Here's how;

Find a station (usually on the low-end of the dial) playing modern piano music. It should ideally be sparse and slightly ominous. Chopsticks Variations 7-9 by Margo Guryan (thanks 88.1!) works very well. Also acceptable is "Don't Let it Bring You Down" by Neil Young. Then drive somewhere in the rain. Tell me you don't feel like you are in a movie and something momentous is about to happen; like you are about to get home and find your wife cheating, or arrive at work only to be laid-off, or you are about to run-over a cat, the owner of which ends up being the love of your life.

Try pulling up to a bar with your windows rolled down blaring "I just want to make love to you" by Foghat or "Do ya think I'm sexy" by The Revolting Cocks and bask in the R-rated confidence. It's like you are about to go and pull the hot woman at the bar who turns out to be a vampire or wanted by a Mexican cartel. Either way it is more interesting than the night you had planned.

There are, of course, many more examples of this car/music phenomenon, so there will me more to come. I guess that makes two new features in one post!

Urkel Urkel Motorcycle

Diamond in the rough

Since my last post was probably too educational (read not-funny), I will make up for it now by promising no intellegent content in this post. I am sure that you, like me, have worn out your copy of the Screech Powers (Dustin Diamond) sex tape (kidding of course), and are wondering which 80's to early 90's television star will be the next to release a lurid video. I have come up with a list using the latest in scientific research and late night television watching. Try not to get too excited while reading this list.

Jaleel White (Stephen Urkel); He always made an effort to show off-set that he was a normal, cool, dude with no predilection for high water pants and cheese. What better way to do that, and regain some national attention to boot, than to take a dose of 'boss sauce' and go all Stefan Urquelle on some girl. He could end the video by looking in the camera and saying, "Diiidd I do thaaaat? Hell yeah I did!"

The Olsen Twins (Michelle Tanner); Something must be out there, one was apparently engaged in drug-fueled sex with Heath Ledger the other shares an 'ex' with Paris Hilton. (Thanks, Wikipedia!)

Soleil Moon Frye (Punky Brewster); Please?

Betty White (Rose from Golden Girls); She has had the best career revival I've seen for an octogenarian, and what does she have to lose?

Eric Estrada (Ponch from C.Hi.P.'s); He seems to do any commercial or celebrity appearance offered to him, so I'm kind of suprised nothing has 'leaked' with him and some forty-something groupie.

Road Rash

Speaking of people on motorcycles going down, here are some bad things that have happened to me on my old Honda 750;

Getting stuck in a dry riverbed north of Fountain Hills, AZ.
You know how in cartoons when someone is stuck in the desert they always show vultures circling? Well, it really happens. I rode onto some reservation land, miles from the nearest human settlement, to take a picture
that never really came out. I went over a bump and ended up in a deep wash, with my front and rear tires stuck in the dirt. I had no water, it was over a hundred degrees with no shade, and it took great effort to get free. Those vultures took all of ten minutes to start circling. Thanks for the vote of confidence, you ugly bastards!

Dropping my bike after getting it free from the riverbed.
I was so excited once I was back on the dirt road, I rode with no-hands going about 20mph, yelling. Yeah, and I fell. Of course there was a jeep full of people who saw it (where the hell were they when I needed help?) and laughed.

Getting run off the road by a truck with a 'WWJD' bumper sticker.
Apparently the Lord would run me off the road in the middle of the woods and leave me bleeding in the dirt.

'Splatting' my way through a cloud of moths near Albuquerque.
Speaking of Jesus, this was absolutely Biblical. It was like a rainstorm of moths. I had to keep wiping yellow bug guts off of my glasses at 50mph. Luckily most bounced off of my skin (ouch!). I still have the leather jacket I was wearing, and it still had little specks all over it.

So there you go, motorcycle follies and eighties television.

Birdland

Hey, have you heard? About the word?

I'm sure that most of you have heard about the birds that have been falling from the sky recently. Those who have read the "Testimony of the Mad Arab Abdul Ahlrazed"  will of  course recognize that this is merely the first sign of my ascension. For the rest of you 'future minions', I figured I would discuss the species that have been plummeting so inauspiciously to the tarmac. (All information courtesy of  -http://www.birds.cornell.edu/ and http://www.allaboutbirds.org/.)

red-winged blackbirds; I really couldn't find any cool facts about this bird. It sucks that they fell and all, but all they do is look pretty and sing and don't bother anyone (snooze).

common grackles; These 'blackbird look-a-likes' are iridescent in color and eat your garbage. Not just your garbage, anyone's really. They also like to eat crops, especially corn. By the way I lied, they really do prefer your garbage.

European starlings; These are regular visitors to downtown Boston. Every fall when it gets cold and at least once one will fly into the outdoor bar and stare at me. I, of course greet it with, "Well hello, Clarise." (Anyone get the Agent Starling reference?) One hundred of these birds were brought to Central Park between 1890 and 1892 by Shakespeare enthusiasts (I can't make this stuff up) and released into America. They now number around 200 million. I figure that was the environmental equivalent of a bunch of Micheal Creighton fans releasing 'velociraptors' into Manhattan.

brown-headed cowbirds; These birds are unable to raise their own young. Seriously, they can't nest, incubate, or raise their chicks. They have evolved to go into the nest of another species where they push an egg out and replace it with one of their own. If the 'host' bird discovers the scam and pushes the cowbird egg out, the cowbird is known to return and destroy all of the host bird's eggs. Yes, these birds are dicks.

Tailspin

Since I've been discussing birds' falling down, perhaps it is time to discuss what makes me fall down. It is quite possible that the name 'cocktail' does in fact come from the remains of a dead bird. One common (if incredibly apocryphal) explanation for the name tells of a Revolutionary War widow who stole a chicken from an English neighbor. After serving the pilfered poultry to her French and American soldier guests, she employed the feathers of the chicken as drink-stirrers. The elated French toasted "Vive Le Cocktail!". Do I believe this story? Not on your life, but I like a good story and this is a pretty good one.

There are a million and one good cocktails, but in the spirit of this thread, here are some cocktails that fall flat before they get a chance.

1. "Can I get a top-shelf Long Island Iced-Tea?"
This order is more common than you might think, meaning once a year in my experience. What this person thinks he (always a he) is saying to the bartender is; "I know I'm thirty-four, but I still party like a twenty-one year-old, except now I'm not afraid to pay extra for the prestige of top-shelf." What the bartender is thinking is; "I can't wait to charge this asshole fifteen bucks for this drink and see how he reacts (with that girl he's trying to impress watching)."


2. "Can I get a blue drink?"
First of all let me say that some of my first libations in a bar were at a Polynesian lounge, and for that reason tropical drinks will always have a special place for me. Now that I got that out of the way; Blue is just a color! It imparts nothing to the drink but a sense of whimsy. So please don't order a drink just because it's blue, you will be disappointed.

3. "Can I get a [vodka brand] and vodka?"
Ok, this is a sign you are about to be cut-off. You want to order a 'brand x' and tonic, but instead you keep saying '[vodka brand] and vodka, repeating it multiple times, getting more indignant each time. The bartender keeps repeating your order to you, hoping that you realize your error, but you probably won't. The variation on this is "Can I have a rum and vodka?". What you want is a rum and diet. Oh, inebriation!

Well, now that everybody has heard about the birds,  I must go and raise a glass to my favorite Bird (#33  of course). Good night and safe flying!

Epic

Rock Hard:

I was watching a truck commercial the other day, rather, I heard the music for a truck commercial the other day (watching implies intent) and was puzzled. The background noise was some Creed meets Godsmack (last time I pick on Godsmack this month I promise) drivel that sounded something like "Smo, smi, ssmmerrrii, how cool is tha-yat?!". My friend asked why they would use such dated sounding cock-rock. I informed him that for a good portion of our great nation, Nickelback is still a relevant band. Here in Boston, like many other cities, saying you're in a hard rock band is like saying you are a swing revivalist or some other anachronism from 1995.

If the conversation were allowed to continue the response would be something like; "Oh, two guitars in one band? That's so retro. In my band, 'The Assless Chaps', we have a cello, a wave generator, and a therimin. We call it 'space chamber', we're getting a lot of buzz in the blogosphere." Blogosphere, what a bad word.

Word to your Mother

Speaking about what an unfortunate word 'blog' is, I actually put off starting one for ten years (dumb) because I hate that word so much. Since nobody writes epic poems anymore (does anyone?). I suggest we misappropriate the word 'epic' instead. That way, the next time I meet someone the conversation will go from this;
"So, you're a writer? Anything published?"
"Well, I write a blog." <girl walks away>
to this;
"So, you're a writer? Anything published?"
"I write epics. People dig them." <WTS gets phone number>

Syphilis is another bad word, at least as nasty sounding as 'blog', but syphilis is always bad. The name is completely appropriate. (Future blog post; ill-fitting v well-fitting words) If you asked someone who did not know what syphilis was, "Do you want syphilis?", they would know by the way it sounded, "Hell no, I don't want syphilis!". If you asked the same benighted person, "Do you want a balloon?", they would say, "Hell yes, I want a balloon!" because the word sounds so innoccuous and friendly. Blogs are better than syphilis, even with modern antibiotics. Why should they be stuck with a name that bad?

Cougar Woods

Sicker than your average Poppa..

This might sound crazy, but sometimes I don't mind being a little sick, maybe once a year. I look at it as my body's way of telling me to 'slow down, take better care of yourself'. Besides, there aren't many other good excuses to cover oneself with multiple blankets and drink copious amounts of ginger-ale. If I did that for no reason on my days off someone might have me committed. All I need is for WLVI 56 or Channel 38 to come back on the air so I can watch 'Lost in Space' and 'Gilligan's Isle'.

These last two days are a different story. Let's just say I was slipping in and out of consciousness for about twenty four hours, fever, chills, the works. This got me thinking about another time I felt close to the grim reaper, albeit in a much, much closer way. This brings me to (drum roll please)...

WTS Guide to Wilderness Survival

This is a short list of 'rules' based on a disastrous mountain bike ride I took several years back. Much like the SS Minnow, I went out for a three hour tour and ended up stranded. Since, unlike them, I had no coconuts (from which you can apparently build anything), I was screwed. I'll save the whole story for anyone who wants to hear it over a ginger-ale sometime, and cut it down to these basic rules:

1. When being chased on your bike by a mountain lion do not turn your head to see said mountain lion!
Yes they are one of North America's most impressive creatures, rarely seen by humans due to their reclusive nature. Yes, I know, you may think you want to see what is about to eat you. Trust me, it is better if you do not. Remember Halloween and Friday XIII, the fleeing teenager usually dies because she turns around to look at what is chasing her, falls, and cannot get up again.

2. When being chased on your bike, be on a steep downward grade and pedal as fast as you can.
'Wait a minute', you astute readers are probably thinking, 'if you didn't turn around, how do you know it was a mountain lion? You are such a fraud!'. To which i reply, the mountain lion is the apex ambush predator in the southwest, well known for attacking humans (especially runners and cyclists) and dragging them by their necks up a tree like 'The Predator'. But rule number one applies to anything in the mountains aggressive enough to chase a human, so if you want to substitute an elk or bear in my story, go right ahead. As to the downgrade, you better hope someone upstairs likes you, which leads me to...

3. Do not be afraid to petition a deity or two that you may not normally.
No atheists in a foxhole.

4. When you hear a western diamondback rattle near your feet, and you cannot see it, throw your bike in the direction of the rattle while jumping away and yelling 'aaaahhh!'.
I know it is an unorthodox strategy, but it worked for me.

5. When you make you final push towards civilization, think of something you want to see again, like a loved one.
For me it was a quarter-pounder with cheese and a large hi-c. Don't judge me.

That ends this installment of WTS Guide to Wilderness Survival. Just stay out of the woods altogether.

Love Me Tendons...

Fee Fye Pho Fum

As anyone foolish enough to allow me to corner them after lunch knows, I love banh mi. I've even learned to make them myself. For those of you who have escaped my gastrological ramblings, a banh mi is a Vietnamese sandwich (they call them 'French sandwiches' from their perspective) composed of a baguette, pate, mayo, meat, cilantro, and pickled carrot and daikon. The meat is traditionally ham and head cheese. This head cheese is not the European kind, but sort of a 'stained glass' composed of cartilage and snout. It is really fun to pull the stuff out and make one's dining companion uneasy. It's my 'day off' tradition. Hard to believe I'm not married, huh?

Last week I was chagrined to realize my closest sandwich stand was closed due to a power outage. The restaurant next door, however, was open. I should have known better. This was a hardcore traditional menu, and totally intimidating. I ordered pho, but not 'white boy' style like I should have, the 'nasty cuts' way like I'm Anthony Bourdain or something. What arrived at my table was approximately 2 gallons of broth and the most unreconizable pieces of mystery animal I've ever seen. I recognized the inner stomach lining thanks to dim sum with a Cambodian friend, and I knew I could eat that. The rest looked like slaughterhouse floor scraps, blood vessels, huge chunks of cartilage and tendon, maybe some intestines. I tried to eat it but my brain wouldn't recognize it as food and my hand wouldn't lift the stuff to my mouth.

I went to a friend's house afterwards to show him the 'to-go' contents that the server insisted I take home. He was equally grossed out and flushed it down the toilet rather than have it fester in his trash. The moral of the story is when experiencing a new culture, take it slow. Just because you enjoy the head doesn't mean you'll like eating the rear.

The Bitter Truth

Bitters are a wonderful thing, sort of a bartender's best friend. I was able to cure nausea with it the other night, as on other occasions it's been an anodyne for everything from hangovers to hiccups. Beware any bar without bitters, seriously. The thing that's interesting about bitters is that there is nothing to them but alcohol and a few semi-mysterious herbs like gentian root (the key flavor of Maine's favorite- 'Moxie'). The key ingredient is faith in its effectiveness. I like to use lemons, limes, honey, sugar, cherries, even salt, in mysterious preperations for the patient. While she watches, I am a modern day houdoun or alchemist, making strange gesticulations and macerations to build belief in the magic of the final product. What she ends up consuming is a big dose of Mary Poppins, but it works.

Stoke City

I saw a Manchester United match the other day and they were playing a team called "Stoke City". This is the raddest name ever for a town. It sounds like it should be populated by surfers, snowboarders, mountain climbers, and extreme athletes of all types. I expect that the rivers there are full of Red Bull, and in the morning Mountain Dew collects on the grass. Their rival should be Psychedville, and they compete to see who the gnarliest dude is every year. I'm sure it's just another mid-sized city in England, and not that 'X'-citing, but a man can dream.