How To Toast Bread

Bryce Chartwell shows the people how to toast bread.

A friend sent me this video. His media studies professor used it as an example of narcissism. If I had to make toast for Bryce Chartwell I would be afraid to mess up the toast! What if I don't do it the right way? This video makes me want to eat toast in the opposite way: over a rough fire, scarf it down, and get my shirt dirty. If it is satire, this video is hilarious. I think it's satire and a good example of consumerism. We don't just want toast. We want the perfect toast. And we are satisfied with the illusion that spreading the butter in an East to West direction and making sure the butter is only one micron thick will achieve satisfaction beyond the basic needs of food and shelter into the meta-realm of desire where toast takes on an entirely different meaning. It ain't toast anymore. It reminds me of people who order specially bottled water at restaurants to feel like the water, in all of its neat packaging is more than just water, it is beyond water. Of course, the structure of desire is such that we are never satisfied. We want more. And more. Capitalism takes advantage of our desire and runs with it. Long live the toast. The toast is dead.

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Quote on Laziness by Alfred E. Neuman (from Mad Magazine)

In this post, I present a quote on laziness by the king of satire himself Alfred E. Neuman.

"Most people are so lazy, they don't even exercise good judgement!" 

— Alfred E. Neuman

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Poem: “Chinese Buffet”

photo credit: wikimedia

at the chinese buffet, during lunch hour
there's a table of brash intimacy
and lunch hour camaraderie -
the sleight parent wearing a holiday
green sweater, christmas lights strung
across her child-nursing breasts;
she gestures, eggrolls pushed to
the side, the travails of I-don't-know-what-
because I am too far away to eavesdrop,
but what I did notice I've turned into miserable verse,
I must admit,
of my own voyeurism
getting the best of me,
this haphazard bunch,
articulating with words and flesh
what I can only stab at
with my fork,
ashamed at my own frog-like
existence,
crouching in the chinese buffet,
while my mongolian stew
gristles in the background.

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Repost from Kurt Vonnegut: Liberal Crap I Don't Want to Hear Anymore

To commemorate Easter Sunday, I am posting a Vonnegut interview. On September 13, 2005, Jon Stewart interviewed Kurt Vonnegut on The Daily Show. I still laugh at the interview and think it is brilliant. I think they should have let Vonnegut read out his, "liberal crap I don't want to hear anymore," so I will republish it here along with the clip from the Daily Show interview.*
     It's too bad Vonnegut is dead; I saw him as a contemporary Mark Twain. If someone were to ask me who was the funniest and most insouciant writer in America, I would have to say, Vonnegut. Lewis Nordan is pretty goddamn funny too, as well as David Sedaris. But, I think Vonnegut tops them all.

Give us this day our daily bread. Oh sure.
Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us.
Nobody better trespass against me. I'll tell you that. I'll cut you a new you-know-what. 

Blessed are the meek.
Blessed are the merciful. You mean we can't use torture?
Blessed are the peacemakers. Jane Fonda?
Love your enemies - Arabs? 

Ye cannot serve God and Mammon. The hell I can't! Look at the Reverand Pat Robertson. And He is as happy as a pig in s**t. 

*Comedy Central scrubbed the video. If you want to watch the clip, you'll have to pony up some cash to watch it.

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Rant on Fashion: "I hate . . ."

My sad koi face does not like thee.

A blog post you really don't need to read because I just merely list the popular name brand clothing corporations I truly despise:

I Hate:

Abercrombie and Fitch, Hollister, American Eagle, Aeropostale, Ed Hardy, American Eagle Outfitters, Wal Mart, Macy's, Mervyn's, JC Penny, Gotschalks . . .

Thanks, francbecerra (for the inspiration)
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Satire: Inebriated White Women

Random Underlinings found in a serial killer's handbag:

Whenever inebriated upper-class white women scorn fags and black people, you have to stop to think that inebriated upper-class white women are the minority that needs to be checked on their white privilege. Better yet, tell 'em their sons are homos and the WWII museum should be burned to the fucking ground. Viva La Revolution!

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Poetry: "For Tammy"

        with a sock puppet, dear, she carved out a few queers
        to love her —
            the most kind of women,
            to love us deviants

        she wiped away our tears with her touché kleenex —
           
            on television everyone is a performance
            the difference being only in the self-awareness

        appendix:
        this hero of a guy chris cries on a streaming video
        that the media needs to leave Chutney Shears alone! —
        or you’re going to have to deal with me —
        she’s not well right now —
       
            and we rouse up our spirits with equal fags
        who stand up for the underdogs, yup

        even pee-wee fucking herman,
        a champion of gay rights —
       
            his onanism in a girly porno theatre
    warmed the cockles of our leftist fag hearts

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