If you have ever considered buying beef jerky with Jeff Foxworthy's face on it, or pretty much anything with the Fox's face on it...
...you might be a redneck. With hypertension.
Don't forget to wash it down with something horrible.
Coming in April 2008: Larry the Cable Guy's Original Insulin, available in Soo-Wee Pork Rind, Shockin' Wild Blackberry, and A.T.Vanilla.
I felt unfairly maligned by my pizzas from Gialina the other night. Not pictured to the left of "Dandy Puta": my name on each box.
Thank you, Gialina! Your dandelion green and putanesca pizzas were fabulous, but now I must dress sharply and skip to my next trick.
That's about 200 bucks worth of fines stuck to that UPS truck. Is this really just their cost of doing business in SF? Yes, it is.
International courier UPS receives an average of more than one San Francisco parking ticket every hour, giving the company the unenviable distinction of being the city's No. 1 parking violator.
Last year, United Parcel Service paid $673,334 in fines for 11,788 tickets -- an average of one ticket every 45 minutes throughout the year.
Just imagine how bad it will get for them when SF begins "congestion pricing."
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Meanwhile, across town Andronico's is making some damn good munchies, including scrumptious Brownie Bites:
And they're no mere chocolaty mini-cakes...
...they're "Adult" Brownie Bites, unleashing your most powerful carnal desires. Send the kids to grandma's before consuming.
Mmmm, this Balance Bar Gold Crunch is so packed with exquisite peanutty flavor, it deserves every one of the three fonts in its brand. (You see, it's the "Crunch" sub- product line of the "Gold" sub- product line of the "Balance Bar" product line.)
But what could make this product so tasty? So naturally tasty?
Of course! Natural flavor with other natural flavor!
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Former Arkansas Governor Mike Huckabee was on Meet the Press this morning, declaring his intent to run for President. In his segment, he did not back away from his assessment of President Bush's job performance as "magnificent"; he implied that an anti-abortion position separates America from the terrorists; and he blamed a Willie Horton-style sentence commutation on Bill Clinton.
In other words, horseshit with other horseshit.
Have you ever thought, "Hey, you know, our nation's supermarkets and drugstores seem more loaded with disastrous one-off products than I can ever remember?"
You're not paranoid. It's true. Food companies are finding it increasingly difficult to build brands with frazzled and attention-deficient consumers, and so they're forced to innovate constantly in order to grow. Most of this "innovation" is really repurposing and repackaging existing products to play on our fears, our weaknesses, and our perceived lack of time.
And here are three horrifying products to demonstrate that we are truly living in the Fecal Age of Consumer Packaged Goods:
1. God, America, and Moderately Addictive Stimulants: Ol' Glory, America's Best Energy Drink
This is George W. Bush's 2004 presidential campaign in a 16-oz aluminum can. On the side it claims to be "Keeping Americans Strong" and on the back...
...The Pledge of Allegiance, with the 1954 "UNDER GOD" portion in defiant all caps. This can of sleep-substitute will inject you with high fructose corn syrup, caffiene, taurine, and pretty much the rest of Red Bull's ingredients. But since it's just a buck and it comes in a gigantic container, it feels like a "better value" than that Euro-froofroo juice. In fact, Ann Coulter sucks backs a whole six-pack before filing down her hooves every morning.
2. Disturbing television tie-in: Fear Factor Pop-Ups.
Hey, wannabe cannibals! Whether you're in the mood for human eyeballs or a delicious bloodclot, you'll be set for the evening with Fear Factor Pop-Ups. Thankfully, it's also been marked down by 40%. Why oh why wasn't this selling at $5 for eight pops?
(Neither the eyeball nor the clot would be as disgusting as this real-life horror story of supermarket BBQ.)
3. Worst substitute for lunch or parenting: Oscar Mayer Lunchables Mess with Your Mouth Chicken Dunks
This product is a 3x3x3 cube of Bad Idea, and that doesn't even include the terrifying jaw and lips on the packaging.
Consider this: The central component is cold chicken nuggets mass-produced by Oscar Mayer, which means the "white meat" parts of factory farmed chickens that were too nasty for Meow Mix, ground to a paste and infused with rendered fat, salt, and chemicals to keep them stable and "fresh" at room temperature.
But that's just the beginning of the gastrointentinal terror. These are chicken "dunks," which means that a child is expected to plop the nuggets into a tub of "Ketchup with Added Starch" in order to apply extra salt and sugar, and then apparently to place the soaked meat turds on his or her tongue two at a time.
Then, just in case this tastes too natural for your juvenile tastebuds, you get a packet of "Sour Tongue Teasing Fizz" to sprinkle on the whole affair. Because lunch isn't about savoring food or supplying your body with nutrients for energy and health. No, it's about Messing with Your Mouth. It's about transforming everything you eat into a form of candy. And this product, which also include a pouch of Capri Sun fruit punch and some Starburst candies, Messes with Our Crippled Society's Failed Relationship with Food.
Bon appetit, suckaz.
Earlier, I documented that when it came to the quality of her burgers, Darla's modesty seemed a little thick:
But this ad in The Onion clearly proves that Darla's been kidnapped and replaced by J.J. Redick.
Good news, people of the Innernets. The millions of office workers whose corporate firewalls block out Rangelife's nigh unspeakable truths will now be able to view Cap'n Crunch's stomach tumor at the deeply disturbing Hanttula MoFA (Museum of Food Anomalies).
Meredith Brody, let me introduce you to San Francisco.
Back in July, I started quantifying your choices of restaurants to review from your perch at SF Weekly. And it hasn't been easy, reading about your film festivals and your vacations to Russia and your dad's poker habits and your shitty car battery and all that other crap you spew about before you ever get around to tasting the food. What kind of restaurant could even hang a "rave" of yours in their window?
But I really rely on Cedichou to wade through the self-absorbed muck you purport to be a restaurant column, allowing me to concentrate on the magical pie chart that shows where you decided to visit.
So here it is, the final breakdown. The grand tally for 2005. Click on it to see the detail, Meredith.
What you see there is a pie chart of the locations of the restaurants you "reviewed" this year. When you "reviewed" more than one establishment in a column, I assigned them a portion of the full "review." Don't be afraid: I spent about 12 minutes on this cumulatively.
Meredith, I have good news. While you spent most of the first half of 2005 among the Japanese tourists and recent college grads in the Ferry Building, Chinatown, North Beach, and the Marina, you managed to find Glen Park and even Western Addition in the second half. But you still spent 56% of your reviews on the high-tourist eastern neighborhoods, you mostly ignored the Mission, and you entirely missed the Sunset this year.
Meredith, you write for SF Weekly. This is what SF looks like. Note that it's a one-county peninsula, full of rich and interesting neighborhoods, most of which have at least a few excellent restaurants.
This is what your San Francisco looks like, Meredith.
The year is coming to an end, my dear. Since you obviously have pictures of your managing editor enjoying an orgy with a young Thai boy, a goat, and Rosie O'Donnell, I must presume that you'll back to slaughter more trees with your vapid prose in 2006. So this is a marvelous opportunity to start fresh and anew. With the map I've provided above (the correct one, not your version), a link to Citysearch, and some courage, may you discover the city and restaurants that San Franciscans enjoy.
And may you write about the goddamned food some time!
Happy New Year, Mer.
Most major American cities have a dizzying diversity of restaurants. San Francisco, for example, takes special pride in its cuisine -- more than 2,500 just on CitySearch. Not bad for a town of fewer than 700,000 residents.
The town of Walnut Cove, N.C., population 10,380, doesn't have too many restaurants, but it has one of the most memorable you'll visit anywhere. It's the Hillbilly Hideaway, and true to its name, it's deep in the sticks.
The Hideaway is what you might call a "home-style" restaurant, in that it's the closest restaurant experience you can get to chowing at granny's house. No chef, no menu. They just bring you unending quantities of whatever they're cookin' that night.
We had us some country ham (dried and salted, for those unfamiliar with the concept), ponebread, meatloaf in a sweet catsup, vinegary slaw, pinto beans, fried chicken, fried fish, biscuits, and a handful of other vegan organics. And don't let the Sprite fool ya, most of us were drinkin' what southerners call "tea" (a solution of 60% iced tea, 30% sugar, 10% recently-discovered element "foxworthium"). Desserts are extra, but the peach cobbler is worth saving room.
The food may be country, but lest you think that only rural bumpkins eat at the Hideaway, check this shit out:
Back behind the counter is an autographed performance shot of Dr. William Raymond Cyrus, back when he still bore the locks of Samson. Look how he spelled the word can't "Kant," in honor of the enlightenment themes of free will and Transcendental Idealism that you hear in his early lyrics.
Click below for more. Do it. Do it.
The sickly Technocolor hues of Cap'n Crunch Swirled Berries belie the surprising unsweetness of the foodlike product.
But when you pour some Swirled Berries in your bowl, and out plops something that looks surgically extracted from the Cap'n himself, you're forced to reflect upon your own dietary habits.
I have submitted this specimen to Hanttula's Museum of Food Anomalies for research purposes.
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