Pictures, Explained

Rather than create a narrative about five days in California and Oregon, which would require comprehension of time and space, I'd rather just comment on some pictures.

First, following in the first rule of American salesmanship, this guy yells obscenities at passersby, then sells them tea, further proving that people love being belittled, all the while justifying my personal work philosophy.


If every restaurant and bar in the world served some version of roasted bone marrow, it would be fine with me. This particular version is from Alembic, has capers and some other stuff, and was served to us by a very sad and weeded bartender who had to make lots of deconstructed Mint Juleps for tourists. He was particularly bummed about the fact that he was still waiting for his grenadine to cool, which is a problem I will likely never encounter.


The trip incorporated about 1200 miles of driving from San Francisco to Eugene, OR and back, a trip which gave me some form of back cancer that makes me walk like a comical old man. Ana and Amy find that HILARIOUS.


Somewhere in San Francisco, somebody's idea of a treasure chest is an oversized plastic container covered in affirmations.


Meanwhile, in Myrtle Creek, OR, the Dairy Queen has a cheeseburger eating competition that started in 2003 and seems to have reached its pinnacle on May 3, 2008, when dudes named Ammon and Tony ate 14 1/2 and 16 cheeseburgers, respectively.

The rules for the contest, which were on another unpictured sign, read something like this: "The cheeseburger contest rules: Eat more than the guy who came before you. Ask employees for details." We didn't ask, but I'm pretty sure the details would include them telling us that we needed to eat more than 16 cheeseburgers. I had a Blizzard instead.


In Eugene, restaurants have signs that tell you that you're entering a "Hate-Free Zone." Lucky for us they didn't do a hate search, cuz they would've probably kicked us out. Also, the picture of George Bush in the bathroom seemed to be covered in hate. Hippies have never been sticklers for consistency.


Here's a picture of Myrtle Creek.

Two Great Voices

I saw that Skip Caray, voice of the Atlanta Braves (and voice of my childhood), died today, so I texted my brother RIP Skip Caray.


Never one to disappoint, here's the response text: And RIP Alexander Solzeneitzen. Two great voices of the western pantheon.

Judge Baby Sez: Eat Yr Crabs, Dummy!

Ana's dad and brother were in town this weekend so we went to eat crabs in Annapolis. Which is awesome because she's allergic.

Sucker.

Know who isn't allergic to crabs? This kid, who has jowels that won't quit. Look how she wields the mallet gavel with such majesty!


Later she got bored and rained down all this stuff from the ether.


Dining tip: don't eat raw oysters and a bunch of crabs on an empty stomach.

Reviews of New Cereals, Plus More Examples of the Taxing Life of Being a Cat that Sleeps All the Time

First, my brother and his girlfriend were in town this week, enjoying the rain, and we went to the Quarry House for some more pickles

then down the street to AFI for the Robert Mitchum retrospective, which was playing Thunder Road. If you haven't seen it, Mitchum plays a moonshine runner through the hills of Tennessee in the 50s. He is easily the toughest, most smooth-talking Tennessee moonshine runner I've ever seen on film, with nary a hint of a southern accent. Verdict: rent it, then go to DollyWood and ride Thunder Road: the Ride.


So. The other day at the grocery store I looked at the cereal aisle, which I never do because I never eat cereal. What I learned there was that the nation's cereal manufacturers have lost their damned minds. For serious, look: Froot Loops with Darkberries? What, did they run out of types of berries to add, so they just made up Darkberries? Or was it the fact that they're not berries at all, so you had to make up a new word that connotes berries but isn't tied to the idea that there is actually fruit in the cereal? Why not Goozleberries or Flibbleberries? Either of those names would be cooler and less ominous-sounding than Darkberries.


In other Froot Loops-makes-up-words-news, here is this thing called Froot Loops Smoothie, which includes "Yogurty-covered pieces," which might be the grossest thing I've ever heard about.


And Frosted Flakes has entered the small-but-growing energy drink/cereal crossover world.


And now the magazines in the grocery stores, they tell you what you think before you even think it. Like here where they tell me that I don't think Hilary Duff is edgy.









I got bored yesterday and played a free poker tournament online. I won a ticket to another tournament which if I win will give me a seat to this year's World Series of Poker. I predict that should be easy enough.