Food is Good, More is Better

     You know what's great? Food is great. And, by all that is wholly unnecessary, we here in the loosely unionized provinces of America do our best to make it greater, do we not? You bet your biscuits we do. And let me tell you something in exchange for nothing but the time it takes you to read it (which may be more of a bargain for me than it is for you, really,) I couldn't be happier about it. We took the English muffin and turned it into a breakfast sandwich bun, same with the croissant. We even turned pizza and doughnuts into sandwich buns, I've heard but unfortunately not experienced for myself.
     All good ideas, in my book, but I am here today to tell you, and should it listen, the world, that we do more for the culinary arts than just turn everything into a means by which we can consume food that does not necessitate the use of bothersome utensils and plates.
     For example, we can turn food into a receiver of passive aggression, a woman in Connecticut claims. She had a man arrested after he threateningly carved a watermelon at her, because she previously tried to get him arrested for marijuana possession. He was not arrested for said possession, but later, apparently, she found a watermelon on the counter with a knife stuck in it, and then the man came in the room and started carving it, which as everyone knows is a punishable offense. Oddly enough, the article doesn't say anything about their relationship outside of drug possession and fruit murder, leaving me and you (and perhaps the aforementioned world) to wonder whether he was generally allowed in the house in the first place. Perhaps this is truly a matter of domestic unrest, for which a juicy, delicious, innocent watermelon was forced to pay the ultimate price?
     I can't say. What I can say is that our culinary abilities, as a culture and a country, are not limited to violently venting our vexations on vine grown fruits and vegetables.
     We also excel at making foodstuffs way too big. Take for example the long adored and thoroughly treasured taco. You know who loves a taco, friends and neighbors? Every creature who has ever known love, every being who has faced the harshness of this world and managed to keep any quantum of hope intact, every vessel of consciousness that has ever had any honorably conceived notion of goodness and justice, loves a taco. So wait until I tell you that at Ranger's Stadium, in Arlington, Texas, you can purchase for yourself a taco that's two resplendent feet long.
     That's right. Two. Feet. Long. For the first time ever, I understand jealousy. I understand the true concept of envy, and I feel it in the depths of my soul for any and every person who has managed to convince themselves that watching Baseball is an enjoyable pastime. Believe me, if I had one wish now, it would be to join their ranks, so that I might one day myself partake of the myth made real, the Two Foot Taco. Alas, it is once again with great regret I realize that the pointless pastimes I have chosen come not with such rewards, but instead with an extensive knowledge of things that no right-minded person above the age of eight would give a poorly sewn stitch about.
     Woe, thy name is me. Wherever can a man go to salve these feelings of anguish?
     Funny I ask, because I've an answer. Taco Bell has announced its intentions to further push the shimmering, greasy envelope of what can be categorized as food, this time by unleashing upon us their protein packed "Cantina" menu. This, amidst ever increasing numbers of research findings about how high protein diets are surprisingly less healthy than all of those purveyors of proteins both bar and powder previously led us to believe. The fine folks at the Bell, famous creators of Fourth Meal, are even working on the "Cantina" breakfast menu, to go along with the astonishingly successful waffle taco (a sweaty masterpiece of appetence abuse if ever one existed.) It will, of course, include Greek yogurt, because this is a free country, and the health conscious Taco Bell customers deserve to have their trendy appetites sated as well.
     Now, when it comes time for us, as a nation, to stake our claim in the world of comestible innovations, I for one feel secure. I know that we are not the first to make food an art form, nor will we be the last. We are, however, never likely to be surpassed when it comes to making food a victim, making food monstrously big, or, in what is perhaps our greatest towering achievement, stuffing it with huge quantities of meat and calling it a healthier option.
     This, by the way, is what happens when I forget to eat before I sit down to write. Now, someone please get me a giant hamburger with giant tacos as the bun. For glory.
-John
   

Cthulu, who knthewlew?

   
     Brace yourselves, friends and neighbors, because I'm about to take a pretty controversial stance. One that a lot of people aren't going to like (which is why I employed the word 'controversial.') It may even spur some people to action, though admittedly I doubt it, as I haven't managed to do that ever before (still waiting on that Roomba money, you guys.) Okay, consider yourselves warned, because I'm about to get all kinds of in your face.
     To put it simply, I've had enough of this Cthulu business. I know, I can the murmurs of revolt even now, as people the world over simmer with rage at my proclamation.
     So, to put it less simply and thus provide further explanation, well, here is a sizable collection of words, put in a certain order so as to express a particular message.
     For those who have managed thus far to avoid learning of this Chtulu business, allow me to provide an abridged background. Cthulu is a fictional character created by one H.P. Lovecraft, a posthumously admired writer of fictional horror and owner of what is arguably the best name ever for a person who writes fictional horror. Cthulu is a gigantic, super old monster with an octopus like head, a humanoid body with scaly skin, big old scary claws, and of course, wings, because why wouldn't he have wings? If you were a giant fictional monster, you'd probably have wings.
     Anyway, Cthulu apparently lives trapped in an underwater city that isn't Atlantis, but is apparently some other fictional underwater city. It is popularly "believed" that Cthulu will some day return to wreak havoc and generally ruin everything.
     So, what's the problem? Why should I have an issue with some fictional, world ending monster? Well, since you read me asking, allow me to elucidate.
     The problem is that more and more people are using Cthulu as a deity for ironic worship, in order to, one assumes, to make fun of people who worship a deity with sincerity. Now, as anyone who has spoken or may speak to me for any length of time, or has heard or may hear stories in which I am involved, or has read or may read of me knows, I appreciate, to put it mildly, any and all skilled uses of sarcasm and satire. The problem is, that's not truly what transpires here.
     What this is, what it has turned into, is yet another opportunity for a group of people to wrap themselves in the same kind of smug condescension in which one often finds the truly devout enveloped. The self satisfied smirk of those in the know sits just as readily and agreeably on the faces of the Cthulu Praising Idolators of Irony as it does the Televangelists, or the Bible Thumping Homophobes, or the Celebrity Scientologists.
    Which is the problem. How long before the irony turns serious, and these self-contented supplicants of sardonicism expect us to take them seriously? Not as long as one might think, I'd wager. Just look at the aforementioned Scientology, eh? Even today's most prominent religions largely started out as minor theologies, their followers often mocked, ignored, or worse, before it managed to attain the lofty heights of overbearing cultural influence they now enjoy. Sure, sure, the disciples of Cthulu are seemingly less devoted, opting not to aggressively spread their beliefs by means of tracts, outspoken leaders, and occasional religiously justified violence, instead choosing to make and sell stickers, T-shirts, knit caps and the like over the internet, but that's how it all starts, people.
     No good ideology begins with consumer merchandise.
     Although, starting with the internet does seem a pretty good move, when you think about it.
     And what will the rest of us do, we chaste and charitable few, when a true manifesto appears? When some charismatic leader, clad in a reclaimed sweater, comfortable slacks and a bow tie (this part is particularly speculative)comes forth with a defined Dogma of the Church of Cthulu, which he or she will read from his or her holy tablet computer, almost certainly fit inside a case that makes it look like an old book, what then? How may steps is it from this to honest lobbying (well, maybe not honest exactly, but you know what I mean,) to weird little separatist communes?
     Realize and remember, things like this always start small, until what we may politely call a "visionary" takes control of it. And I, for one, have no interest in seeing what it looks like when people begin to expect to be taken seriously for their commitment to irony.
     Seriously.
-John