JUMPING THROUGH HOOPS DU JOUR: The Maddening, Mouthwatering Modern World In Simple-To-Follow Recipes!
This week: Classic Homemade Success or Disaster (yields one or the other; may cause severe stomach knots, and, in rare cases, complimentary garlic knots)
— 1,000 to 2,000 existential anxiety-induced sleepless nights
— 2½ decades of self doubt (double for each additional decade of life, until dead)
— 3 to 5 daily pinches of polite conversation to distract from crippling inner turmoil
— long stretches of unrequested celibacy (to taste)
— 3 to 4 days unpaid labor per weekDIRECTIONS
Combine ingredients in large, cosmopolitan melting pot, stirring lightly. Some ingredients may be more attractive and successful than you at first blush, but will eventually burn out. If desired, strangle them with cheesecloth and bash/whisk them stiffly against a granite backsplash, feeling momentarily bad about it. Repeat until thick skin forms. Bake briefly in shallow pride, swallow hard, and be disgusted—no one ever said it would taste good. ϶
Before They Were Dead: Leonardo da Vinci
Did you know that honest to god Renaissance man Leonardo da Vinci…
→ Was the first non-mafia affiliated Italian to use “mozzarell” in place of “mozzarella” outside of suburban New Jersey?
→ Dissected many dead bodies for his anatomical studies and heroically slayed many undead bodies by dark of night using not but the sharpened end of a jailhouse paintbrush?
→ Doodled the concept art for “The Last Supper” on a napkin using only red wine, a toothpick, and a slew of state of the art lithograph machines?
…and he managed to do all this and more before he was dead!
We offer a salute to the zany short films of Thomas “The Next Spielberg” Jefferson! ϶
Before They Were Dead: Marie Curie
Did you know that pioneering physicist Marie Curie…
→ Shared the 1903 Nobel Prize in Physics with husband Pierre and shared her spearmint gum with the rest of the class because she actually brought enough for everyone?
→ Coined the term “radioactive,” and absolutely destroyed wiry oil tycoon J. D. Rockefeller in three rounds of underground hobo rules kickboxing to fund her groundbreaking research?
→ Played shortstop—not first base, as is often rumored—on Sorbonne's legendary faculty softball team, the Radium Sox?
…and she managed to do all this and more before she was dead!
We fondly remember 3-time all-Croat welterweight champion sheep-shearer, Nikola “The Oscillator” Tesla! ϶
Unread Book Review — “Anna Karenina” by Leo Tolstoy
Look, I understand the caterpillar is very hungry. I get that. But what I don't
get is why it took thirty-two full-color
pages to get that point across. Talk about your long-winded tripe. I'm an avid non-reader. I don't read anything and everything I can't get my hands off. So when a nonexistent Russian-lit major friend of mine didn't say, “Hey, you shouldn't read Anna Karenina!” I wasn't like, “No.” And now, just look
at what that brief surge of misplaced enthusiasm on my part has gotten me: three parking tickets, and an outstanding $40 tab at the local library that only grows by the week. I often hear of Tolstoy being compared to his myriad great contemporaries—L. Ron Hubbard, Ann Coulter, Dean Koontz—but I just don't see it. I don't get it. And you know, just because a caterpillar decides he's very hungry, that doesn't give him carte blanche to eat every goddamngoddamn
thing he sets his six pairs of ocelli on. Didn't anyone tell him there's an obesity epidemic decimating our waistlines and pancreases? Pulp trash at its absolute worst. ★☆☆☆☆ ✣
Has This Ever Happened To You?
Today, I asked my wife if I could borrow her bra ’cause mine's in the shop and she looked at me like I asked to borrow her bra ’cause mine's in the shop. ✣
When you visit the supermarket, does your fat toddler's excessive weight threaten the structural integrity of even the sturdiest shopping cart? If so, it might be time to try a revolutionary new product, a little something we're calling Don't Go Breaking My Cart®, the world's first stand-alone, heavily-reinforced steel seat specifically designed to be compatible with almost any shopping cart you can cram and/or grease your kid into. Simply secure Don't Go Breaking My Cart® in place, hoist that chunker of yours into the part of the shopping cart that can very nearly accommodate him, and that's it—you're ready to hit the Pop Tart aisle. Then, once you finish purchasing all the Pop Tarts you can afford, simply heave your little bundle of mass onto any heavy load-rated surface, pop Don't Go Breaking My Cart® back out, and immediately store somewhere cool and dry—it's just that simple. Get your own Don't Go Breaking My Cart® shopping cart seating system today, and never worry about another flimsy shopping cart ruining your day or your grocer's tile floor ever again. ߜ
Patent Pending #7,590
“The Animal To Be Called Lion”
• cat-like face
• haunches (ample)
• flexible tail
• flowing locks of auburn
• single-seat sidecar with optional hydraulic speed brake ✣
Who Would Know This, Even?
Each and every Passover Eve, the Easter Rabbi visits millions of children worldwide to deliver a brightly-colored treasure trove of leaky, unrefrigerated baskets full of traditional schmaltz, borscht, goulash, and—if the little one in question was especially good that year—a pillowy sleeve of kosher Peeps. Two sleeves if they were bad. ✣
Women come and women go, but I'll always remember my first true love: the Brooklyn Bridge. Ours wasn't the traditional physical love, what with her being a bridge and me being a man, but, well okay, maybe that one
time—but she and I agreed to never let it happen again, lest we ruin what we had. Well—I
agreed, anyway. Bridges, as you know, rarely voice their opinions. So, with that one major exception, it's more like a deep, abiding respect for one another. And I'll never forget the first time I saw her. I was in Bed-Stuy for leisure. (When you're in love with heavy iron vestiges of American infrastructure, you generally have to go to them, as having them come to you will inevitably lead to all manner of logistical nightmare. But, I digress.) She was quite a bit older than me—having been completed in 1883—as I was barely more than a boy at twenty-two. To be honest, though, I think that's probably what most attracted me to her in the first place. I've always had a thing for older women and inanimate river crossings. All the experiences she'd had; all the things she'd seen. What can I say? Her uncanny ability to move people and vehicles moved me
. And a man even offered to sell her to me once, but I knew she could never be owned; she was too wild and free and welded together. Also, I kind of doubt that man was actually authorized by the City of New York and the five boroughs to sell its bridges to transient weirdos. But, as these things so often go, just as quickly as our romance had blossomed, it began to wither and wilt, as my vacation drew to a close; just another bittersweet case of summer love. Nevertheless, she shall always come first in my heart, and I'll forever treasure the memories we made together. This one's for you, Brooklyn Bridge, New York, NY 10038. Φ