Circumstantiae involving Westfield, NY and why I haven't been around...

What ho, long lost readers!

Yeah, so, long story short, last 18 some odd days:

After getting out of jail, totalled car crashing into tree going 40 mph on I-90.

Spent day in hospital, leaving with bruises, a busted nose, a short hair cut (they needed to trim for CAT Scan), and prescriptions for Valium and Vicodin.

The PT? Now scrap.

Returned home to MA in drug addled stupor, which remained through holidays.

Stood in line for six hours to get a Wii for my sister, eventually gaining pity for my injury and weaseling my way to the front of the line.

Got a new bathrobe for christmas.

Drank with Anton.

Got cool silver dollar.

Saw the following movies, equating them to Baseball teams:
Alvin and the Chipmunks: Chicago Cubs (Didn't suck as much as I expected)
Sweeney Todd: New YorkYankees (Sure, it was good, but it still didn't feel right)
National Treasure 2: St. Louis Cardinals (It could've been worse)
I Am Legend: New York Mets (Started out great, then munched hard)
Water Horse: Boston Red Sox (Kid Friendly fun, with a huge yet lovable monster [David Ortiz])

Good. Glad we caught up.


Live!....From The Lake County Corectional Facility!

For those of you who didn't hear, I spent yesterday in the Lake County, Ohio Correctional Facility. This was over some confusion over my license and whether or not it was suspended (OH says yea, FL nay), and I was out by dinner, however, I was in Jail long enough to pass along a few kernels of wisdom along to you, so here they are:

The PMRM's Top 10 Things You DIDN'T know about Ohio County Jail:
10.) The Food is of a higher quality than your school lunches in HS. The trays were nicer as well.
9.) Once prominent Carnegie Mellon professors who got addicted to Cocaine are around every corner.
8.) The Uniforms more closely resemble scrubs than jail cosutmery.
7.) For making your bed, instead of a fitted sheet for the bottom, you are given a giant pillowcase that fits our mattress, speeding up the process of making your bed immensely.
6.) They have premium cable.
5.) Of the 13 men in my cell block with me, 9 had completed at least two years of college education.
4.) The give you free Coffee and Kool-Aid. Whenever you want it.
3.) After the initial "Why're you here?", most people keep their problems to theirselves.
2.) According to the felows in the Maximum block a few floors up, I have a very pretty mouth. One even knew that it I had a "cupid's bow" upper lip.
1.) Convicts love.....and I mean LOVE....Will and Grace. We watched five episodes start to finish.

I hope you learned as much as I did.


Wow....THAT was The Golden Compass? Ouch.

So, not to spoil it if you guys haven't seen it yet, but GC is rough.

Really rough.

If you've been following, it's freshness is somewhere in the low forties, and it's criticisms are very valid.

I won't give my full opinion here, but if others were to offer their criticisms, I would certainly proffer mine own.

Exciting news in the expanding business world of RM. JFD and I have gone halfsies on a domain here in the Intraweb. The website, which we hope to have up by February, will be a synthesis of recipes, my own small witticisms, as well as shameless advertising for the company.

So, be sure to keep an eye on in the coming months.

Also, since I don't endorse video piracy in any forms, I heartily suggest you all avoid I certainly wouldn't encourage you to take advantage of it's impressive library of online films and tv shows, nor would I recommend those of you who watch anime to explore its sister site, It's just not fair to all the gaffers and best boys out there.

Making himself a Betty Crock-ing Chair,

On the Matters of Meta-Citizens; or, Why I just don't like Hayden Panittiere

Counting tonight's writer-strike shortened season finale, I have now watched two full seasons of Heroes. I find the show's premise charming yet unoriginal, yet the writing itself intrigues me. Mainly because of its methodology.

See, each of the ten or so writers is assigned a character, or small group of characters. Then, each week, each writer writes their own character's little scenes, then hands it to whichever of them is doing the full episode, and off to the races.

Granted, this can occasionally make for a level of plot confusion that falls somewhere between LOST and The X-Files, yet still they execute for 95% of the show.

Then there's Hayden. I don't know if I'm just growing old and bitter, but her WB reject routine of rebellion and righteous indignation just feels wrong. Not for her character, and granted I don't think I'm the demographic they're going for with that character. I'm somewhere between Zachary Quinto and Masi Oka (Both of whom I met at Ojai in 06). Still, every time I see her regenerative face in the shot, whining about something when it turns out she was dead wrong all along, I kinda want to hit her. It's that WB/CW complete sense of 'you know what is right and wrong at 17' opinion that we all felt at some point. Maybe I do identify with her. And I'm a little ashamed of it.

With the exception of her, and maybe Peter and Nathan's mother, if you want to see almost flawless 3-D character development and execution, watch a few episodes of this show. The writing for it really is something special.


Baby, I'm Sorry

I often find that I am a foolish bastard. No, no, don't defend me. I am quick to judgment and to condemn and have a tendency to act first and think later. However, I'm not too proud to know when I'm wrong.

I'm sorry, Disney.

I still love you, if it's even possible, I love you more every day. I just want you to be happy. And if you think Tim Burton can give your Alice a face lift, then I understand and support you.

Why am I being so forgiving, you ask?

Three reasons: One, heavy use of valium. But that's not important right now. The second is your eponymously enchanting Enchanted. It does my heart good knowing that with this movie, you have permanently wrested both the child-epic and modern fantasy away from Dreamworks, New Line, and any other bastards who would try. If your movie has a princess, you now officially have to go through Disney to do it right. Sure, you can go to other film companies. But know full well you're dealing with the people who made Doogal and Hoodwink'd. It's even more wondrous that not only did you take your woman back, Disney, but you also masterfully satired yourself in the process. This movie, more than any other Disney movie of the past 3 years, shows me what Disney will be in the wake of The Eisner Affair, as it shall henceforth be known to me. I have nothing but the highest hopes for the future, which brings me to point three.
Three: You have returned to your bread and butter. With information trickling in about your two newest animated projects, The Princess and the Frog and Rapunzel, you have returned to classic fairy tales, with full scores and 2-D animation, While not forgetting the lessons of the past, learning the value of stylizing (Hercules) and Contemporary Storytelling (Treasure Planet [This was one of those learn from your mistakes kind of things]). If you haven't heard about The Princess and The Frog, it is essentially The Frog Princess set in Jazz Age New Orleans, with a predominantly creole-jazz and African-American interpretation.

How bad-ass does THAT sound? Disney, you shall always be my one true love.

On that note, I wish to resurrect two of my favorite Disney Games:
The first is Hero/Villain/Sidekick (This means any secondary character, but sidekick is catchier)

Wiry has already placed his on his facebook, but I shall transcribe them here:
1. Hero = Belle (Beauty and the Beast)
2. Villain = Scar (Lion King)
3. Supporting Character = Clopin (Hunchback of Notre Dame)

Mine follow immediately:
1. Hero= Oliver ( Oliver and Comapny)
2. Villain= Rattigan (Great Mouse Detective)
3. Sidekick= Thumper (Bambi)

What are yours? Think I got mine wrong? Let's start a discussion.

Also, my compilation of Mixed Drinks based on every Disney movie begins again, starting with the first five:
Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs

Also, let's keep the jokes about shots and Bambi's Mom to a minimum. No, I'm kidding. Fire away! Ba-zing!

One last thing. I was reading a fellow blogger's thoughts on life after our common alma-mater (well, most of us anyway), and how the period in time immediately after college is the scariest time in your life. Now, I cannot confess to have had a relatively scary life. I have never seen a vampire, though many goth kids; I've never been stalked based on the events of my previous summer; And I have never been chained to a water pipe, forced to share a dilapidated men's urinal with Cary Elwes (although....mmmm). I lost focus there. The message I can impart is this: The time out there is just like the time in here at Kenyon. It is what you make of it. I experienced the Real World a little early, then came back to an entirely different College experience. I know how scary and how unprepared you can feel when you're out there on your own for the first time. And I can't say that I've experienced what you're experiencing, so I could well be full of shit; But Kenyon affords you the great opportunity of only being limited by your ability out in the real world, and Kenyon doesn't accept people without exceptional ability. The Real World offers you so many things that Kenyon can't: "Normal" Dating, access to independent films, a paying job that doesn't involve calling alumni, new people and experiences that are only limited by your desire to take advantage of them. And that goes for college, too. For any phase of your life. You are only limited by desire and ability. Life cannot be experienced if you are afraid to experience it. And that's something we've all been guilty of before and will be again. Everyone is scared at some point. But don't let that fear that strikes everyone turn into hesitance, or worse, reluctance. Those will kill you. Because there's nothing worse than looking back at what you could've done at some point in your life.

Unless it's looking back and seeing the dude with the hook right behind you. Then you run. Hard.



Tim Burton, you are FUCKING DEAD TO ME

As some of you may have gleaned in the tone of my previous piece, I am not in a very happy place right now. But, with the help of tea and deep-breathing exercises, I was making progress. Then THIS, THIS FUCKING HAPPENS.

If you can't read the link, or have read it and still don't understand why I'm upset. Let me spell this out for you....


No, I am not overreacting. This has got to come out, and if I'm the one hung for it, fine.

Tim Burton is the biggest goddamn grifter in Hollywood. Moreso even than Michael Bay. Here's why. Tim Burton hasn't made an artistically provoking film since Edward Scissorhands. He has become Hollywood's Pimp. Want Johnny Depp? Go talk to Papa Timmy. Want HBC? Talk to Timmy. Want Goofy shit in your movie? Bend over.
I once was under the impression that he was a talented director. I subsequently amended that and gave him credit as a talented visual designer. Then, I realized he was a fucking grifter who has parlayed his good name on poor lighting, acid trips, and a gaggle of stupid fucking teens who think this makes him a misunderstood, hurt, brilliant artist.

No, he's a conman with a stupid fucking haircut.

Jesus! In some countries this man would be dead for what he's done to cinema.

And don't get me started on how he's empowered the Hot Topic generation.

You want to talk hypocrisy? When a generation shits on their predecessors for being inflexible and invulnerable to criticism, and then when you say to them that you think AFI sounds like a cat being put through a sausage grinder, you "just don't get it."

You're shaping up to be Dubya II: Gothic Boogaloo. Enjoy that truth, junior.

And Sweeney Todd? Guess what? It's gonna suck. From his end, at least. I'll give you the three adjectives that describe all the shots I've seen:

Poorly Lit.
No difference in cinematography between it and Superman Returns.

Last one was a little long, but wait until it comes out. Walk away, come back to me, and honestly tell me if you think he did his supposed job for this one.

I say supposed job. His actual job?

Wanna know why he was hired? Because he could get Johnny Depp and Helena Bonham Carter faster than Warner Bros. could undo his belt and suck his dick.

Seriously. If shitty lighting and angsty looking makeup and set design are all you need to be a counter-culture film icon, I know at least a thousand people on youtube who should be directing Sweeney Todd.

Now let's move on to his materials. Do I have a soft-spot for Alice in Wonderland? Certainly. But I'd be just as pissed if this man touched ANYTHING Disney ever made that didn't start in N and end in ightmare Before Christmas. Tim Burton's Little Mermaid? Tim Burton's Beauty and the Beast? hey, Disney, I've got an idea, let me get Eli Roth on the phone to do Snow White. I could get Tarantino to start working on a draft of Hunchback. Oh, let's have Oliver Stone take a whack at Aladdin! No harm in destroying your good name there, right?

Fuck, every Disney ever, even Elias Disney, Walt's furniture-making Pappy, are doing triple-lutzes six feet ender right now.

You can openly call me a fascist son of a bitch if you want, and I will accept that that is where my viewpoints have led me, but why do we have to fuck with shit that isn't broken? Hmm? Disney movies are a cultural institution. Not for America. For the World. Where do you think Hayao Miyazaki would be if it weren't for Steamboat Willie? Disney didn't just pioneer animation. They did. They also probably played one of the largest parts in helping to shape the American Musical for the past 70 some-odd years, along with Rodgers and Hammerstein and some of the other great lyrical teams of Broadway's infancy. And I can understand if there's one or two Disney movies you'd want another crack at. Some aren't immortal. You know, a lot aren't meant to be. But Alice in Wonderland is in that elite upper echelon with Beauty and The Beast, and The Little Mermaid, and Pinocchio, and Cinderella, where you just don't fuck with them. Not never interpret the stories again. Just, you know, STAY THE FUCK AWAY FROM DISNEY'S VERSIONS OF THEM.

And also, how pretentious a son of a bitch do you have to be to put "Tim Burton's" before anything? Like we're going to confuse your poorly lit Batman with Christopher Nolan's. We won't. His had direction.

Why do we as a culture have to darken everything? Why is it that, when we reach sixteen, we feel secretly guilty about still being attached to our childhood joys, so we get shitheads like Todd MacFarlane to do them up in bondage ? Do you realize it's our shame over still sleeping with Care Bears that keeps these assholes in business? That the time you put Mr. Snugglekins away because your friend Krissie called you a little girl is why American McGee drives a Benzo and wears italian suits, not a DuckTales shirt that he got on (Oh, it's there, apparently Magica McQuack is the new poster child for Goth Children. Those fuckers.); And now, when our childhood will be further perverted by this goddamn sonofabitch con-man Tim Burton, we'll have no one to blame but ourselves.

We could've stopped him.

We could've stopped him at Batman Returns, Mars Attacks, Big Fish or Planet of The Apes.

We shouldn't have given him get out of Jail cards for The Corpse Bride or Charlie and The Chocolate Factory or Sleepy Hollow.

Because now he's not just laughing to the bank. He's laughing to the vault where we keep our childhoods.

That asshole has officially become the boogeyman.

And spare me, the perennial excuse that Victorian London is supposed to look Gothic. It was remarkably well-lit and clean by world standards at the time.

You know what's fucking Gothic?

Watching your childhood rot away before your very eyes.


If I EVER see Tim Burton at Disneyland, or even in person, he's gonna get a swift and terrible kick of vengeance right in the cock from,

Comic Book Fans Are Killing Kiernan Mulroney

I have a friend (Travis Fickett) who used to work with me at the now-defunct who has since moved on to internet trouble-child Every now and then, he sends me some stuff on what he's talking to and about. Right now, he's whoring himself out for information on the new Thor and Justice League movies. One of my personal favorite rumors he proposed was that Shawn Ashmore, formerly known as Bobby Drake (X1-3), and Michael Rosenbaum (Smallville's Lex Luthor) were the two main competitors for the role of The Flash in the upcoming film. Rosenbaum, who voiced the flash in the Justice League Animated Series, seems the favorable choice, though he is being roundly panned by comic book aficianados.
Now, I am not in the pocket of movie production companies (see The Golden Compass Letter), but fan-boys, you have got to fucking stop. I'm serious. There's no fucking pleasing you. And before you say that so and so made you happy, or that you liked such and such a movie, here are some fun facts for you to ingest.
Let's start with Sin City and 300, the twin jewels in the crown of the "hip comic fan". Are they good comics? Certainly. Well written and well drawn. Let's take a look at the reviews. has a great link to gross numbers for every movie as well as a link to a website that cross-compares critical reviews with reviews from people on the street from some polling service most movie companies use after limited releases and test showings. They also, in the case of specialty movies (i.e. historical/based on a well known show or book/comic) grade fan opinion.
Average Critical Score for Sin City/300: B/B-
Average Consumer Score: C/B-
Average Fan Score: B-/B-

Now, where am I going with this? Those were the BEST averages amongst all comic movies of the past decade, excepting Batman Begins, which we can chalk up as a most welcome mistake. Every other comic book movie had at least TWO of those groups giving the movie a C- or lower. And guess where the average LOWEST grade comes from? That's right. You bastards.

You are the ones ruining your beloved comic book movies.

Here's the problem as I see it (please feel free to rebut). The comic is the most inexpensive epic medium imaginable. 90% of the work can be done by two guys alone in a room (preferably darkened parent's basement). One needs to be able to draw. The other needs to be able to come up with a storyline that is in keeping with 60 years of comic history (all of which he has mylar triple-sealed somewhere), or in inventing a new universe where he can write whatever the fuck he wants. (Gay Colossus? Sabretooth with Adamantium Claws? An Incestuous Relationship between Quicksilver and Scarlet Witch? Sure, we'll just call it ultimate. Make it Earth 2616 or something nutty like that.) That's it. That and publishing costs. See, in Comics, an epic storyline that involves the melting of Earth in a giant fondue pot costs about 25 dollars. In the movie industry, that can't even by a pack of gum for Brett Ratner.

Movies are a business. Art is a business. From the dawn of time. The first moment that a caveman realised he needed to buy more berry juice to smear on his cave walls, it became a business. Does that mean that art has no soul? Hell no. It can and should be a glorious medium bent on evoking the most primal and glorious reactions and responses from the human soul. But to do that in Hollywood, you better have at least 50 million. At least.

And yes, most of the movies clear their production costs. But you have to understand. These are the movies that are supposed to clear the bases. All the lousy romantic comedies that lose 5 million each? This is where they make their money back. And you can't just break even. Not if you ever want to see a movie ever again. They need to make a profit.

Justice League is already shaping up to be the biggest laugh since Entourage's faux-Aquaman or X3. But you comic book fans killed that one. The team that brought you the (according to comic fans) "Mediocre and Mediocre +", scripts of X and X2 were tired of the relentless harrying they were getting from producers. See, if they went all the way to one end of the spectrum ( a Comic fan's wet dream with ideal casting, fx and dialogue), it'd be way to expensive and inefficient. And if they went the other way, they'd still get shit on by the producers for not being marketable enough to comic fans.

See, that's the part none of you realize. They LISTEN to you.

Do you want to know why X-Men: The Last Stand was so bad? Because they put out a poll in several comic magazines and to several "well-known" people in the comic fan-base as to what they'd like to see in the sequels. There was a public outcry to see Jean Grey as Phoenix. Well how the shit are they supposed to do that without dropping another quarter billion on a space movie with Shi'ar and shit? hmm? People wanted to see the coming war between mutants and humans. But there simply wasn't a good one on the books at Marvel. And even if there WAS, guess who gets a producer's credit? Whoever wrote that storyline in the original comics. That was why the whole cure thing was written? Why wasn't Juggernaut magical? Why wasn't his backstory with Xavier identified? That's 30 minutes of movie they didn't have to explain. Why was Pyro introduced as a student? Easiest way to work him into the storyline. Why no Gambit? What, do you want this movie to be five fricking hours? It's not a comic. It's not an animated series. It's a two and a half (at most) movie that is doing the best it can with what it's got in the time it is given. And that's why the Phoenix storyline was butchered. Because they thought you wanted it, but just couldn't give it to you the exact way you wanted it. It got you the iPod you wanted for your birthday, but the fuckers got you one in green. You wanted pink.

The sheer volume of comics will inevitably satisfy you in one way or another if you're a comic book fan. The upcoming Thor movie will be in progress for 24 months before they get a crack at satisfying you. See the disparity?

The movie studios are confident that an okay, easy-enough-to follow script with some fun action and actors will cover their overhead and break even in the box-office. But YOU people are the ones that enable them to make sequels. And DVD sales. And game tie-ins for your XBoxes and your Wees and Your Sony Idon'tknowwhats.

They want to please you. But you need to stop expecting an orgasm every movie. It's just not going to happen.

You need to appreciate that this is a business, and not every movie can be Batman Begins. In fact, The reason Batman is so easy to do is that They only have to deal with two producers, the estate of Bob Kane and DC. And one of them is dead with a son happy to get a check and doesn't care about storylines, and DC is just thrilled to have a movie made again, so they're cheap dates. Do you know how many producers Justice League will require?

9. And that's assuming that Martian Manhunter and Hawkgirl cause no trouble. Nine producers. Figure between them, and the studio, and the director, that those writers, who work so goddamn hard to please you, are going to make anything other than like 8 margaritas and break down crying? Not a chance.

Comics are the best medium for what they do. It's simple, cost-effective, and allows for creative minds to do their thing in an epic universe. It's just not that simple in movies.

So you all need to cut them some fucking slack. They're doing their best. And yes, hopefully Iron Man will be great. And no, the new Hulk Movie probably won't be. But that's the price of putting comics on screen.

Comics are Ma and Pa Kent's Farm.
Movies are Metropolis.

So realize that you aren't in fucking Kansas anymore, this is the big leagues, and take a goddamn pill.


Thanksgiving fun from The PMRM Kitchen Korner....

(You are in the sitting room of The Post-Modern Renaissance Man. There are some old books, furniture, a Strawberry Shortcake Word Search book, and a statue of The Swedish Chef.)

(Examine the statue of the Swedish Chef? [Press A])

(You examine the Statue. There is a button hidden under his hat. Press the button? [Press A])

(A Wall recesses, and you can smell burning bread and hear the tormented wails of a thousand dead turkeys. You descend the spiral staircase, and just as you are about to enter, there is an explosion!)

(From a giant cloud of flour, you hear)

Who's There?

(The flour settles, and you are in the Post-Modern Renaissance Man's kitchen!)

Oh, hello there chum. Happy Bird-Day!

(He begins dusting himself off)

Are you, like me, facing the prospect of a thanksgiving without family for the first time in a long time? Facing limited numbers? A bunch of friends, all insecure about the day that is the culinary equivalent of a penis-size competition? I've been there. But there's no reason for dismay! Here, check out some of these kick ass, delicious, fun and easy recipes, all created by yours truly that can make your first St. Turktrick's Day alone the bomb, can be fun to make with friends, or are even a great addition to family traditions!

Ready? [Press A]

Rock On!

Peanut-Fried Turkey Breasts

2-6 8 oz turkey breasts
Peanut Oil.

So, one of the wonderful culinary traditions I picked up in my time in IN (along with the fried twinkie) is this. And even if you are allergic to peanuts (you know who you are), this is still a great way to prepare turkey, and economical. Most major supermarkets have, at least at this time of the year, fresh or frozen turkey breasts instead of the whole bird. While fresh is always preferable, turkey is one of the best birds for freezing, so the loss of flavor and texture is minimal in comparison to chicken or duck. Ideally, You'd have a fryer for this recipe, as it will cook the inside of the breasts quicker and provide less chance burning than in a pan. If you can get your hands on a fryer, use however many cups of oil it recommends for chicken (mine is two), and cook in there for 15 minutes, or until the interior temperature of the meat is around 170 degrees. If using a pan, cook for 8-10 minutes on either side on medium, with about 2 tbsp. of oil. Be wary of burning!
This dish, when done, is delicious with rice, or even just a simple salad. Let the nutty goodness speak for itself, and don't tarnish it with cranberries or other dressings.


Ha ha ha, word fusion. Seriously though, so many fall vegetables cook SO WELL over an open fire, and if you have a grill, or if not, just an oven, you can make delicious, seasonal turkey, yam and squash kabobs.
2 8oz turkey breasts
2 large yams
one butternut quash.

So, there are three ways to do this. First, the prep is the same. Cut the turkey into 1-1/2 inch cubes. Then, do the same for the yams and the squash. If they are mature, you should have no problem cutting them. If they aren't, bake them in the oven for around 30 minutes at 350 degrees, checking every so often with a toothpick. Once their consistency is like the turkey, you're good to go.
Assembling Kabobs, if you've never done it, is awesome. It's tons of fun, and enables you to go as heavy, or as light, on various ingredients as you want. If you don't have special kabob skewers (2nd on the most frivolous kitchen tool of all time, behind only the ravioli crimper), just go to the supermarket, and, like I do, buy a bazillion bamboo skewers for like, two dollars. They're just as good.
Now, for cooking, the ideal way for flavor is grilling. if you have a grill, just light that fucker up and put those puppies on, flipping every seven or so minutes until they look and feel done. If you don't have one, just wrap each in tin-foil and either broil them for 20 minutes, or cook for 25 minutes at 350 degrees, checking after ten minutes. Then remove and enjoy. Again, these are best served with a basmati rice, or the recipe below.

Apple-Cranberry Sausage Stuffing

Stuffing is irrefutable proof that God loves man; The Apple and the Cranberry are proof that New England fall fruits are superior to any other regional type (I defy you, Ohio apple enthusiasts!); The pretty good too. Combine them all, and you have an awesome side dish, or, if you're doing a full roasting turkey, an excellent flavor enhancer.
1 1/2 cups cubed whole wheat bread
3 3/4 cups cubed white bread
1 pound ground turkey sausage
1 cup chopped onion
3/4 cup chopped celery
2 1/2 teaspoons dried sage
1 1/2 teaspoons dried rosemary
1/2 teaspoon dried thyme
1 Golden Delicious apple, cored and chopped
3/4 cup dried cranberries
1/3 cup minced fresh parsley
1 cooked turkey liver, finely chopped (optional, and really only practical if you have a whole roaster)
3/4 cup turkey stock (the stuff you use the baster for if you're roasting. If not, chicken broth is cool)
4 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted
Preheat your oven to 350 degree F (175 degree C). Spread the white and whole wheat bread cubes in a single layer on a large baking sheet. Bake for 5 to 7 minutes in the preheated oven, or until evenly toasted. Transfer the toasted bread cubes to a large bowl.
In a large skillet, cook the sausage and onions over medium heat, stirring and breaking up the lumps until evenly browned. Add the celery, sage, rosemary, and thyme; cook, stirring, for 2 minutes to blend flavors.

Pour sausage mixture over bread in bowl. Mix in chopped apples, dried cranberries, parsley, and liver. Drizzle with turkey stock and melted butter, and mix lightly. If roasting, spoon into turkey to loosely fill.
FUN TIP: If you can get it, try using hawaiian bread instead of white!

Chopped Maple Squash

This one comes from my Mother, Necessity. She has mastered this simple and delicious recipe, so check it out!

Simply buy a whole butternut squash, cut it in half, and hollow out the core. fill said core with maple syrup, and let bake at 350 for 20 minutes! That's it, and it's delish!

For Dessert.....
Pumpkin Bread Pudding!

(As a conciliation for all those of you who have peanut allergies, but love bread pudding)

For those of you who haven't clocked serious time in North Florida, as I have, they are psychos about two things, Tim Tebow and Bread Pudding. (Don't know who Tim Tebow is? Watch SportsCenter, you sissy) Anyhow, They are crazy about their bread pudding, which I have adapted to my New England sensibilities and fruits, and now pass onto you.
This recipe lusts for:
8 oz French Bread, torn into small pieces (5 cups or so)
2 c. half and half
3 large eggs
2/3 c. granulated sugar
2/3 c. brown sugar
1 can Pumpkin Puree (this is preferable to fresh, which by Thanksgiving has usually past it's prime)
1 c. dried cranberries
3 tbsp melted butter
1 tsp ground cinnamon
1/2 tsp nutmeg
1/2 tsp ground ginger
1 tsp vanilla
cinnamon-sugar (optional)

Preheat your oven to 350 degrees and butter an 11x7 baking dish. Then, in a bowl, cover the torn bread with the half and half and set it aside. In another bowl, combine the eggs, sugars, pumpkin, cranberries, melted butter, the spices and vanilla. Blend that shit.
Pour this mixture over the soaked bread and stir to blend. Pour this into the baking dish and top with the cinnamon sugar if desired. Bake for 45 to 60 minutes, or until set. Serve with whipped cream!

Well, I hope that helps you a little with your Turkey Day Cooking.

(There is the sound of gobbling in the refrigerator)

Oh, that reminds me I need to my turkey. Well, have fun! And remember, if you do get into a competitive turkey cooking/penis size competition, the average turkey is 5-1/2 inches cooked from beak to drumstick.

(Produces a sharp wood ax)

Happy Thanksgiving! Or, in the past tense, Thanksgaving!

(Turns to the Refrigerator)
C'mere you little fuckerball!

(Save now? [Press A])


Coming to the Boston Metro-West, Spring 2008


This time, it's for real.

On Being An Emotional Lycanthrope, Friends and Family, Business, and Chimchar

I appeal to you, oh readers, for patience and understanding.

Should you choose to skip ahead to wit, please skip until the paragraph that starts with the asterisk (*) in front of it.

If you know me (and, odds are if you are reading this you do), you know I emotional sort of cove. I feel no reason to deny this. Some may call it even more extreme, some might even call me a time bomb. I disagree whole-heartedly with them, but I understand where they are coming from. I wear my heart on my sleeve (the history, or lack thereof, of me losing my shirt will be discussed at a later date). I see no reason to hide this nature. I embrace it. I'm sure you feel as I do more often than you might think.
Have you, oh readers, ever woken up one morning feeling cranky? Of course you have. You aren't feeling well. You didn't finish some work or something that needed to be done. You got into a fight. You didn't sleep well. You have low blood sugar. Any number of reasons. You woke up one morning not feeling right.
Establishing that, have you also ever, upon realizing that you are cranky, feel this crankiness evolve into a feral distrust of your friends and family? An animal-like reaction that today is the day that no one comes near me, or they will get what's coming to them. you feel yourself, in your mind, baring your teeth at people who try. And today is the day that you remember all those things that you filed away. All those times your friends said or did something insensitive, or neglectful, or hurtful. However unintentional their hurt may have been, it all comes to the surface. And today is the day that, should they do it again, you are ready to wheel on them, and finally call them "Liar!", or "Fake!"; Deceiver! Selfish! Arrogant! Untalented! Stupid! Demented! Unfunny!....all those things that, at the time, you repressed or filed away as something that shouldn't be said and forgave the person in question.
But not today. Today, like a bounty hunter out of a USA Network Direct-to-TV movie, you have no forgiveness or patience. It is gone. The part of your brain that doles out benefits of a doubt, and is willing to look the other way isn't there. Today there is only the animal inside your mind. Caged by your reason, bated with pointed sticks every time you were hurt. Today it is in control. And you hope your friends don't say the wrong thing. Though the animal inside you does. He relishes confrontation. He wants to say those things. And today, he is in control.....
Never had that, hunh?
Me neither.
I'm just having one of those days.

*My business, newly reformed under the working title of Juniper Food Designs, or JFD, continues slowly. I have filed forms for bankruptcy of my old company, liquidated most of my assets (Is a 5$ garage sale pot an asset? YES! Says the Gov't), and taken that money, along with money donated by several devotees of my last company to begin laying the groundwork of my new one, which right now is mostly forms. More on that to come.

My Chimchar (Gauguin) and I are fucking up Sinnoh like it's our job. While it currently bears a striking resemblance to the Hokkaido prefecture, when I'm done it'll be more like the Sukkaido prefecture! Hi-Yo!


A Brief Glimpse into a Very Sick Mind....

The Flu has laid waste to the fertile, serf-tilled valley of my mind and body the past few days, hence the lack of posting.

However, allow me to give you a brief glimpse into my disease addled brain with this transcribed inner monologue:
(Staring at Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban)
I wonder if Gary Oldman ever gets sick?
I doubt it. He seems like he takes good care of himself.
I don't like the taste of Orange Juice when I'm sick.
How did Oranges get the sweet deal of being "the sick juice"?
Why couldn't cranberry get that? They got "urinal tract tidiness". That sucks.
I wonder if Rupert Grint will ever get work after theses movies. Probably not.
Grint. Grint grint grint grint. Grint. Zinc. Grintzinc. Zincgrint. Zinc.
If ever there was an Adam West Batman sound effect.....
Zinc! Pow! Thwack! Sploosh!
I wonder how the sixth movie will turn out?
Why do they keep marketing Hermione as jailbait to 35 year old Harry Potter fans?
Is there a section of Azkaban for underage Wizard molestation?
I wish I had some cranberry juice.
I'm stuck with this orange shit.
I wonder if they've mixed cranberry juice and orange juice yet.
I'm gonna try it.
No, it sounds disgusting.
I should get chicken soup.
On second thought, I'll just pour a salt shaker down my throat and cut out the middle man.
I like David Thewlis.
Oh, movie's over.
I guess I'll watch Goblet of Fire.
....I wonder if David Tennant ever gets sick?
Probably not. He's The Doctor.


As Per Usual, My First Thought is Deep Blue Something....

My Friend Dave was in town today, and he has the hottest job in America since "The Sun's Bikini Inspector" was outsourced to Luxembourg.
He works over at Harmonix, the people who brought you Guitar Hero. The people who are currently responsible for Rock Band, which comes out in a few weeks. He had an advance copy and his XBox 360. I had two other friends itching to rock.

And Rock we did. Hard.

Despite the fact that the new Super Smash Bros. game trailer has replaced porn for me, and the high hopes I have for the new Final Fantasy: Crystal Chronicles, I am convinced that this is and will be the biggest multi-player game for the next gen for some time.

The game play is familiar to anyone who played Guitar Hero, yet inventive. The song selection, as always, was impeccable. And his hints that the game system would have a downloadable library on 360 Live down the road only made me pray that Breakfast At Tiffany's or Hey Jealousy could be downloaded and played by me and three friends, who I would eventually abandon to a mediocre solo career after years of infidelity and drug abuse.

Yes, it's THAT interactive.

Rocking in the Free World,

On Birthdays and Miniature Cakes

Like many teenagers, by the time I turned 16, I didn't want my birthday to be "a big deal". My past 7 birthdays have gone thusly:
16.) Football game, fractured foot, iced, went home, fell asleep before birthday dinner. Woke up next morning.
17.) Three friends and I went to go see Black Hawk Down. Got pizza. I was the only one with money, so I paid. To this day, Victor has not paid me back.
18.) Five friends and I go to a sports bar to watch the Pats play.
19.) I get a hug from Emily Martyn, and get into a fight with Ryan Fraelich.
20.) I go out for Chinese with Erin and Anton.
21.) I watch a movie and eat pizza with one other person.
22.) I work until 11:30 at night, and come home to a cake and my family asleep.
23.) I wake up. Play MLB 2007 for a while, take a nap.

It's not that I have bad luck with birthdays. It's just I've made a conscious effort for it to not be a big deal. And this year, with family relations strained and most of my friends in other states, if it weren't for facebook, I think three people may have noticed at all. And I thought this was how I wanted things to be.

Then someone came up to me, and gave me a Hostess Cupcake with a candle in it, and hummed "Happy Birthday".

I've never felt happier. I've never felt lonelier. At least I'm not working for most of my birthday this year. I miss you all.

One year older, Not wiser,

A Call To Arms on the Subject of Navigational Instruments Made of Precious Metal......and the Movies Made Thereof

An Open Letter to Messrs. Robert Shaye and Michael Lynne, Co-charimen and CEOs of New Line Cinema:
Dear Sirs,
Hello, I am The Post-Modern Renaissance Man. How are you? I am fine. I'm writing to you today because I am concerned about you two. How are you? Really. Listen, we need to talk about your next big budget fantasy opus, The Golden Compass. I'm worried about you guys. Do you want to talk it out?
I mean, here you guys are, in the Spring of 2004, and you option a little known fantasy trilogy by this guy named Phillip Pullman. This is on the heels of LOTR, arguably, your greatest triliological success since Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles III: Turtles in Time closed out the TMNT trilogy. I understand that you are giddy with the possibilities. Then you bring in Chris Weitz as your director. Okay. The guy who directed About A Boy. Hmm. Now, here's where we first come across my concern for your film. With Lord of The Rings, you could hire a bunch of geeks (Peter Jackson, Sean Astin) to do the work because of the HUGE NAME that Lord of The Rings had. You could bring in the geeks to do it justice because you didn't need to worry about selling the product. So you brought in a guy with some semblance of fantasy experience and credibility, and you subsequently burned him for 100 Million in royalties. More on that in a moment.
So, Chris Weitz. Young, starry-eyed kid. Big fan of the series. But, he directed About A Boy. See, again, same ish. With The Golden Compass, You don't have, forgive me Pullman fans, one-eighth the name recognition that LOTR or Narnia had, and forget Harry Potter. Don't you even look at him. Actually, you might want to. Back to that in a sec. You're gonna need to work for your money back on this one. So, how does any GREAT company do that? Hmmm....Well, you could cut costs in the production team and hire more stars than talent in the cast. Try that.
So, back to Weitz. You also tap him for the screenplay. Fun Fact: He wrote The Nutty Professor II. No judgment. Just saying. So, having done that, you decide to fuck with the fan-boys. Who can blame you? I would have. I'm sure they all have questionable hygiene. So scrubbing the filth of your lies off when you drop the hint that Tom Stoppard would be brought in for a draft would do them a favor, removing layers of grime that have been there since Bridge To Terabrithia.
So, Weitz quits, because he realizes he directed About A Boy and THIS is his follow-up. Or, he finds the technical challenges too "daunting". Whatever you believe. You bring in Anand Tucker, the man behind your big-budget success, Shopgirl. Pullman loves him. There's a problem. Anyone he'd like has got to be a fan-boy, and you can't afford, wait, sorry; don't want to spend on fan-boys (Jackson is still costing you 20 mil. a year for five years). So fire him. Good call. Bring back Weitz. His sensible, Steve Martin free movies teach us all to laugh, love, and not want to kill Steve Martin.
Production rumbles forward. You shoot your wad of cash on Nicole Kidman, which, may I say, there's no better way to not help your movie, while not hurting it either. A very fiscally clever status quo move there. Then, unfortunately, you realize that your other heavy hitters: Jude Law, Michael Caine, and James McAvoy....They'll all want money too. Probably a lot. Hmm. That's a problem. Wait, what if you hire lesser known, more respected, cheaper actors? And make it look like the movie has artistic merit again? GENIUS! Bring in James Bond, The Older Brother from Tombstone, and James McAvoy's buddy in Last King of Scotland (Not Forrest Whittaker. The other one. The white one.) Back on track, back under budget. Hey, and fan-boys love James Bond. Bonus Round!
Still, they use that internet a lot. And the internet has been filled with all those articles about how Peter Jackson hates you because you doctored the receipts of LOTR to screw him AND his effects team out of 100 million. That's trouble. Because that's like the Jesus of the New Fan-Boy community (with Brett Ratner and Zack Snyder as sexy, 30-something apostles) is telling you to piss off. That's going to hurt. Because now none of the special effects companies in town will help you. Oh well, when in doubt, sign a rookie for 25 million. Hopefully that'll go well.
Still, you should probably show the fantasy fans around the world, who are at this point skeptical of the prison shower scene this whole affair has been so far, that you were right. Why not beat them at their own game? Put a trailer on the Internet. A Teaser Trailer! That'll show 'em.
Wait, it didn't? And now Weitz is talking about how difficult it was to interact with the producers and the film company? He's saying you held him back? Asshole! You made all the decisions you needed to make. Sure, 20% isn't that impressive for a hit ratio, but still: HE DIRECTED ABOUT A BOY! WITH HIS BROTHER! THAT'S LIKE, HALF CREDIT! WHO'S HE TO JUDGE?
Better put out another teaser. Just re-work the old one, you guys can do it yourselves one night on iMovie over a sixer of Grolsch and a pizza. Or better yet, get one of those 13 year olds on the YouTube who're always making fake trailers of old movies and trailers to do it. There are like, 50 for The Dark Knight. Boy, I bet you guys wish you had that movie. Oh, sorry.
What, they want more? MORE? Then just give it to the little jerks. Spoil the whole movie. I mean, people who've never heard of an alethiometer or don't get why polar bears are in armor are the people you want in the seats. Just like Harry Potter. It's better to be in the business of financially remunerative, yet culturally irrelevant movies that are gimmes for Best Special Effects (Oscar Winner!), than to be in the business of pleasing 3rd Level Dungeon Masters and kids who call comics 'graphic novels'. Don't please them. Loyalty to a franchise is about as costly as Nicole Kidman's Assistant. Fuck fan-boys. If you were in the business of pleasing them, you'd be working with Peter Jackson on The Hobbit. Or at Disney working on Prince Caspian. Or working on The Dark Knight. Boy, I bet you wish you guys had that movie.
Which brings me back to my first question: What the fuck is your problem?
I'm sorry. That came out wrong.
How are you? Really.
Respectfully hoping for your correspondence,

Why Good Things happen to Good People, as Long as they Have Rich Friends.

What, ho! Faithful Readers.
So I'm chilling in my crib, sipping on gin n' juice (specifically country club and cranberry, AKA Methuen Mouthwash! Bwahahahahahahahaha! Boston Humor), watching the football match, when I get a call from Mrs. ******* (Name omitted for safety reasons), the woman who was my first gig in the catering biz. Long story short, she has agreed to set me up with funds to get the company going again! Which I might, in time. It just goes to show, work the 40-55 Rich Female Demographic like I do, and anything is possible.
Today, I am recording voice sync dubbing for four halloween movies that will hopefully be on sale this coming wednesday in Cambridge, MA, for the Back Bay Comedians (Or BBC. I know, I know, they're clever). It's a bunch of my old HS friends, and what we're doing is Skype-ing while we all watch the same movies and a friend of ours is recording our live conversations. Think of it as a live, low-budget MST thing. What you do is you buy the CD, then start it as the movie starts and play over the audio. It's low-tech, but seems cool. So I'm recording that from 3-10, and if you have any jokes to throw out, IM me. Here's our order:
SAW from 3-5.
Jeepers Creepers From 5-630.
Sleepy Hollow from 630-830.
Bram Stoker's Dracula from 830-1030.

So IM me at Huflpufnstuf on the AIM for suggestions.

Wondering what he can cook up now,


The Top 10 Things That The RM Covets:

10.) A situation where I can use the word de-oxidize in a sentence.
9.) The Complete Series of Friday Night Lights on DVD.
8.) The BC Eagles in the National Championship Game.
7.) A Conversation on AIM that doesn't use AIM Speak.
6.) A Really Well Made Sandwich.
5.) My Company Back.
4.) A Pet Otter.
3.) The Ability to Catch 'Em All.
2.) Another Bottle of Hennessey.
1.) My Friend Wiry.

Loving Lists,

The City on the Hill, Choices in Cold Weather Gear, Why Game Freak hates me, and Conrad Veidt

Day Three of my new existence as a failed Corporate Executive. Slightly colder than I might have expected.

Have resolved to wear more flannel, because it is warmer than most of my sweatshirts and coats, and also because I like saying Flannel. Flannel. Fla-nell. Flah-nel. Flay---moving on.

There are many reasons to be proud of being from Boston. Xenophobia, ties to the IRA, Ben Affleck, Chris O'Donnell, I could go on. But right now, all the world looks to us as a mecca for sports. And, indeed, we now are. Which is a good and a bad thing. It's a good thing because the famous long suffering fans of Boston now finally have some relief (excepting the past three Super Bowls and the 2004 World Series. Those don't count). It's a bad thing because we are the most obnoxious sons of bitches on Earth once we get going.

Even I, humble, lovable shoe-shine boy of a Boston sports fan that I am, can't help but take some savage pride in the current prison shower scene that some call the 2007 World Series, because I can remember back when I was a tot and a good day in Boston Red Sox was Wade Boggs showing up sober. When our most poignant weapon was John Valentin. When we all prayed that Roger Clemens was an android who would work for the blood of Oil Can Boyd rather than money. Alas, we were wrong.

So the new Boston Mantra is, since we can beat 'em, why not beat 'em senseless? Tom Brady is on pace to throw 60 some odd touchdowns this year. For a frame of reference, Peyton Manning, arguably the best pure QB ever, set the record at 49, which was unheard of. The Pats don't consider it a win unless it's by 21 points. That's a beatdown. Also, in the NBA, the impressive trio of Paul Pierce, Kevin Garnett, and Ray Allen, three of the best point scorers in the Modern Era of the NBA, are all now in Celtics Green. Think they're going to keep the scores low? Also, the Boston Bruins have the largest margin of Points Scored versus Points Allowed in the NHL, only one game behind the Ottawa Senators for the best record in the NHL. In College Football, Heisman Favorite Matt Ryan has lead the BC Eagles to the 2nd overall ranking in the country.
That's 5....5 sports in which Boston can now be argued as a dominant force. Not even NY during the hey days of the Yankees, or when Oakland had the High-Flying A's and the Thug Raiders at their zenith can touch that.
Yeah, if your a Boston Sports Fan, you're a well deserved dick right about now.

In Pokenews, I have picked up the new game for the DS. However, I can't comment on it yet because I am forced to choose, as my starting pokemon, either a fire-monkey, a penguin, or a dirt turtle. HOW CAN ANYONE MAKE SUCH A CHOICE? Every time I try I just stare at the screen, unable to choose. Then I turn it off, and resolve to make a decision tomorrow.

I had my live Skype Halloween film fest uplink with my friend Michelle from home, our 6th Annual. This years theme was "1919-1939: Or, why Tim Burton is a thieving douchebag." We watched Cabinet of Dr. Caligari, The Man Who Laughed, Edward Scissorhands and Sleepy Hollow. While I will always enjoy the last one as a semi-goofy Johnny Depp/Miranda Richardson vehicle, Christina Ricci always creeps me out. I don't know if I'm supposed to be aroused by her or freaked out. At least with Helena Bonham Carter it's a creepy arousal. Christina just keeps me floundering. Quick side note, if you ever have the means, watch The Man Who Laughed. Most emotionally touching silent creepy movie starring the Joker before the Joker existed ever.

I've started baking again. The healing can begin.

Still working on that Hennessey,

In Memoriam, Q.C.C.

To whom it may concern,

Today marks the end of the embattled and all too short-lived Quince Catering Company, of Dover MA. Due to increasing financial instability, and external pressures, I have closed it down.

Some of you knew about this side project of mine, and regarded it with passing fascination.

To me, it was much much more, and I hope to use this small space to do it an ounce of justice.

I was kicked out of Kenyon College in August of 2006. Not asked to leave, not because of financial troubles. Kicked out. Because I had chosen to put my priorities above those of the College. I was disgraced, and I was heartbroken. My friends were in shock, and it caused irreparable damage to one particular relationship that I fear I will never live down. Shortly after this, I formulated a hap-hazard plan to get back to Kenyon. I was told I had to wait a year to re-enroll. It was my goal to be back in six months. My mother, little knowing what was ahead for her, agreed to take me in, provided I get a full-time job and go to classes in the morning and at night. I did just that. I took on four classes at the local community college, and I got a job waiting tables at a restaurant called J.J.'s, outside of Jacksonville. My school was fifteen minutes to the south of my house, the restaurant around 45 minutes north.
I worked hard. At the restaurant, more due to my resilience and my ability to understand abuse in french, I was promoted through the ranks of chef. At school, I earned an A in every class. I was up most days at six in the morning, and wasn't back until 12 at night.
This took a toll on me psychologically, causing me to say and do things I will always regret. My relationship with my mother faltered, as we are both very emotional people, who wear our hearts on our sleeves and don't contain feelings very well. By Christmas, we had trouble making eye contact, and I left, to return to Kenyon six months ahead of their schedule but right on mine.
At Kenyon, which should have been my moment of triumph, I froze. I came back to a very different dynamic and different people, some of whom I'm sure were upset at me for leaving, some who didn't know how to reincorporate me after my absence, and some who regarded me as a ticking time-bomb, a mentally unstable hazard. I do not blame them for this. However, this caused me to 'freak out' just as they had predicted, and I began to have frequent panic attacks and became unable to leave my room for extended periods of time. I was not ready to return.
I left, again in shame. This time, I turned to my father in MA for support, and I received it. We worked on a plan that involved me getting a job, taking classes and seeking psychiatric support for my troubles I experienced at Kenyon.
While I was taking classes and working on my problems with Dr. Mitchell, I had trouble procuring a job. It was around this time I ran into the mother of a friend and told her of my job in Florida, working as a chef. She knew about my trouble to find a job, and offered me a one-time catering gig for a small party of hers.
From there, Quince Catering took off. Through word of mouth and the parents of my high school friends, I was able to establish a somewhat-successful and financially gratifying catering company. For the first time in almost a year, I had something to be proud of. I was not some stopgap for a French restaurant, or a college flunkie, or a failure son, I was a successful entrepreneur. When I returned for Senior Week at Kenyon, to see my friends off and wish them well, I had something. I had something to vindicate myself in their eyes. Yes, I had failed Kenyon. Yes, I had failed them, twice over. Yes I had failed at life, and yet, I had this. I had my own company. I had taken the first step, albeit forced, into the real world; And despite a shit storm that (not to sound bitter) few of them could even come close to understanding, I had survived. More than that, I had thrived. Still, I could tell that in the eyes of some I was still a failure. Or, if not a failure, I was no longer one of them. I had forsaken my membership to our circle when I had become a failure to the academic system. I left senior week to go down to Florida for my sister's High School graduation, crying much of the way from West Virginia to Georgia. It was then I resolved that I would never let other people judge my worth. That I would rest my laurels and my pride on my own skills and abilities.
After a summer working at a boys' camp, I returned to Kenyon again, lonely and isolated. Resolving that I could not continue my company from here, I sold my control of it to a friend of mine, a recent graduate of Johnson and Wales. Within a month, it was clear that he, though a far better chef than me, could not handle the financial and PR facets of the company. It was near bankrupt.
So I bought back Quince with what little money I had left, and despite being busy with schoolwork and a mounting series of family problems, I took control from 1000 miles away.
Despite my best efforts, it was not to work. And so, today, I fired my friend and shut down the company indefinitely.
This brought back a sense of shame and failure I had not felt since that drive down to Florida. That's when I realized that, however proud we may be, however hard we try to convince ourselves otherwise, we do crave the acceptance of others. And I had once again provided fodder for the chorus of people ready to label me a failure. You can take this moment or an earlier moment to say no such chorus exists. That I am being paranoid. If you are saying this, you are one of my friends from college. If that is the case, you know god damn well that people have gone behind my back and said shit behind my back in the past. I have no reason not to believe that those people, and others, less judgemental though they may be, still consider my exodus from Kenyon as a failure, and myself as one as well.
It's hard to not take this the wrong way. For a good six months, this was the one thing in my life I had some pride in. It vindicated me. Sure, some of my friends were at school, and successful academically, and happy, but I had proven my worth in the real world. I had built a testament to my resiliency, and I felt that for the first time in over a year I was worthy of, and deserved, some respect.
With it gone, so has that feeling. I feel like November 2006 all over again. I am alone, I am isolated, and I am a failure.
Quince was a security blanket when I had nothing to hang my hat on, nothing to be proud of, no sense of self or of pride. It was a savior for me, and it is gone.
That God, which ever lives and loves,
One God, one law, one element,
And one far-off divine event,
To which the whole creation moves.
~Tennyson, In Memoriam
Rest in Peace, friend.

Me? I'm gonna go drink a bottle of Hennessey and wait until all this blows over.

Insert pithy pop-culture reference to make this less pathetic here,

A Falliday Recipe from the Pomo Kitchen Corner...

So, for those of you that don't know, (hints can be found at facebook or on Jeff's link page, or by talking to me) I have some professional experience in the cooking world. Indeed, in Jacksonville I'm something of a celebrity on the subject (not really...). Anyhow, fall is right around the corner and I thought I'd share this recipe with everyone. It's really easy, though it requires some focus and patience.

Pumpkin Spice Cake with Sugar Apple Glaze
1/2 cup unsalted butter, room temperature

1 1/4 cups light brown sugar

2 large eggs

1 cup fresh or canned pure pumpkin (about 1/2 of a 15 ounce can)

1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract

2 cups sifted cake flour

1/4 teaspoon baking powder

1 teaspoon baking soda

1/2 teaspoon salt

1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon

1/4 teaspoon ground ginger

1/8 teaspoon ground cloves

1/2 cup buttermilk, room temperature


3/4 cup brown sugar

1/2 cup apple cider or juice

1 tablespoon butter

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees and place rack in center of oven. Butter and flour (or spray with Pam) two - 8 inch cake pans. Set aside.

In the bowl of an electric mixer (or with a hand mixer, which I prefer), cream the butter and sugar until light and fluffy (about 2-3 minutes). Add the eggs, one at a time, mixing well after each addition. Add the pumpkin puree and vanilla and beat until incorporated.

In a separate bowl, whisk together the flour, baking soda, baking powder, salt and spices. Add the flour mixture and buttermilk alternately to the pumpkin batter, in three additions, beginning and ending with the flour mixture. Divide the batter in half and then pour the batter into the prepared pans. Bake for approximately 25 - 30 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted in the middle comes out clean. Cool on a wire rack for 10 minutes and then invert and remove the cakes from their pans. Cool completely before frosting.

To make the glaze, pour the brown sugar into a saucepan with the butter and heat to medium high. Stir the butter and brown sugar until it makes a smooth mixture (be careful brown sugar burns a lot faster than regular sugar. vigilance!) to that, add the apple cider, once mixed well, let cool. If still too liquid-y, add more brown sugar, or confectioner's sugar, if available.

Assemble cake, garnish with chopped walnuts, pecans, or almonds.

PS: Don't want to invest in buttermilk? Combine 1/2 cup of milk with 1/2 tablespoon vinegar or lemon juice. Stir and let stand for 10 minutes before using.




An uncontrollable smile....

it's been a long and tiring week, and i found this goofing around on youtube.

I smile uncontrollably every time i watch it, which is at least thirty so far.

if you hadn't guessed from my link section, i love alice in wonderland. while i cannot with my whole heart say it is my favorite disney movie, it is by far my favorite source material they ever used, eclipsing even the late 70s porn classic deep throat, which somehow became the emperor's new groove.

it's just a really sweet little video, and the comic itself is rather cute, there's a link on the youtube page.


P.S. Apparently the link isn't working, so just paste this.....

the foreboding nature of gummi berri juice....

i began watching justice league unlimited on youtube this week. like many of my generation, i watched the original batman the animated series, and to this day will fight tooth and nail that mark hamill's voice of the joker is the best rendition of the character ever captured. this new justice league show, the latest and apparently final chapter in the paul dini/bruce timm collaboration that started it all, is quite good too. the voice talent is surprisingly diverse, from justin bateman to ed asner to michael york to nathan fillion. but that's not the point. i raise this point, looking over my collection of childhood memories on dvd (freakazoid, gummi bears, batman the animated series, king arthur and the knights of justice, etc), and remembering something a friend of mine once told me, when she was taking a psych class for her doctorate at tufts:

most people who possess child like features after the final stage of normal emotional maturity usually revert to childhood possessions as a manner of repression of current trauma. they latch on to things they associate with a simpler period of existence to convince the conscious and the subconscious that there is no problem.

anyone who knows me acknowledges, with various terminology ranging from blunt to adroit, that i am childish. i have a predisposition to immature and occasionally rash decision making, can become upset over inconsequential things, and when threatened have all the grace and tact of a seven year old. however, this made me wonder if my love of the things that defined my childhood are simply because i don't want to face the conventional face of adulthood. i wonder because i like some adult things. i like black socks. i like bargains in gas prices. i love alcohol and tobacco.

unsure if grammi gummi is just a security blanket or is really something more,

a few thoughts on why i wish i was a pokemon...

today i found myself in a rather unpleasant telephone conversation with a person who i am intimately familiar with. as any conversation like this goes, at least when i am getting reamed for something i've done wrong or have been told i did something wrong, the phrase 'what do you have to say for yourself?' inevitably comes up. i hate that fucking phrase. because, at least in my case, whatever i have to say for myself is the wrong fucking thing. i am never right in this situation, so whatever words i choose will fail to defend me in any way. ergo, i wish i was a pokemon. they are blessed, among other things, with a one word vocabulary limited only to identifying their species. this word must represent all words for them, ans do with clever inflection and the right timing you can sound quite good without saying anything. that seems to me to be their biggest boon.

i'd want to be a fire-type. though that'd leave me wide open for a squirtle.

man, that sounds wrong.


Why I love Top 10 Lists....

My good friend and former live-in....associate.....Jeff has posed an excellent question re: The Top 10 (Most significant to you) Albums of All Time, meaning All Your Time. I have crafted an answer to him:

1.) Collective Soul, by Collective Soul
2.) Omnibus, by Tarkio
3.) Pet Sounds, by The Beach Boys
4.) Stunt, by Bare Naked Ladies
5.) Fush Yu Mang, by Smashmouth
6.) Dookie, by Green Day
7.) Disney's Greatest, Vol. 2
8.) Fashion Nugget, by Cake
9.) The Color and the Shape, by Foo Fighters
10.) The Greatest Hits, The Alman Brothers Band

Take that, sir!


The Thursday Three-Point: Blog Technology, Chimpanzee Correspondence, and Violence in Videogames

I spent a good hour today trying to figure out how to make my template cooler. Not on this website, no. That would be to sane and logical. I went to over two dozen websites that promised me pre-fabricated templates of varying interest and quality, all self-explanatory and easily installed at the touch of a button.

The internet is a liar.

To this point, I have resolved to merely keep the one I have, and when all my cool friends with their awesome backgrounds ask me why mine is so vanilla, I will make some defensive comment about the quality of the words over the look, then skulk away, planning to kick them in the shin after they've forgotten about me.

I was talking to a friend of mine who works at a record label the other day, and let slip perhaps the greatest secret of my faux-hipster persona: I like the Barenaked Ladies. I know, I know, that phrase either means you're lame or are a rich white boy with season tickets to them, and Dispatch, and DMB (Wait......), but my even cooler music friend admitted he likes them to, in shameful secrecy.

Does everyone like Barenaked Ladies in shameful secrecy? Are we all afraid to come clean? The Pomo will continue its investigations.

Finally, I was playing one of the old Super Mario Bros. games the other day when it dawned on me that if the violence in video game people really wanted to make a legitimate claim, they should've started earlier. The conspicuous lack of concern for the thousands, and I mean thousands, of souls crushed underfoot by that Pseudo-Italian death machine some fancifully dub Mario is disheartening. I can't help but ask why the mid-western housewife who won't let her son play a game that accurately depicts and teaches how to kill with piano wire thinks that Mushrooms and Turtles don't deserve saving. Are they second class citizens to you, Frau Hitler?

Remember, if they have spikes on their shells, they have it coming.


The Wednesday Essay: On Nocturnal Melancholia, Men with Two First Names, and People who Sell Me an Inconvenient Number of Lighting Tools

As the poets say, It's 3 AM, and I must be lonely.

Surely, unless Messrs. Thomas, Doucette, MacMillan, Yale and Cook are mistaken, I must be damn near miserable about now. Also, apparently it's raining. Neither is true at the moment. So why is it that, whenever I listen to that, or any mid 90s alternative song, I feel miserable?

I've been toying with this for sometime now, and have spent all of my funding and most of my scientific good name to reach this conclusion. My generation loves being miserable.

It's true. The Post Generation-X Generation, or Generation Y, or Generation 9/11, or the Information Generation, or Harry Potter and The Generation of Sorrows, whatever you will call us, is a generation that enjoys, occasionally, wallowing in its own misery.

Take the evolution of goth and Emo cultures. As much as they would like you to believe, they can draw no history past our generation. Emo is not the love-child of new-wave and punk. They're just sad, depressed idiots. And Goth has nothing to do with Victorian England. It doesn't. In fact, both movements can be traced to the year 1990, when a cracked out waste-head named Tim Burton got high and thought his fingers looked like scissors and Connor Oberst's sixth-grade girlfriend dumped him because he was "icky".

But surely this is a modern American success story. From such inauspicious beginnings, Emo has become a by word for the weak and emotionally sensitive and insular of the world. Instead of taking pain, and thriving on it, learning and growing from it, they wallow in it; Staying in their basement, pining for their best friend of the opposite sex, wondering why he/she will never see me that way, and listening to the newest from Dashboard.

Goth culture, meanwhile, has succeeded in taking non-conformity to the business world. Through their joint-venture with Abercrombie and Fitch, Hot Topic, they have not only spread wearing black in August to the whole world, they successfully conned everyone into thinking anything can be Goth. A cursory glance at any Hot Topic will find, after the obligatory Tim Burton rack: Care Bears, Transformers, Hello Kitty, Pirates of the Caribbean, and Harry Potter. None of those are Goth. They're not even close to Goth. They're Geek. So admit it, Goths. You're geeks who, afraid being labeled that would get you beat up in high school, hid behind an ugly amount of mascara. Come into the light. Everyone here is a geek and wants to help you. I have a friend who plays for the Virginia Military Institute's Football team. He'd love to talk Hello Kitty with you. I'm dead serious. And I can think of at least twenty people who'd love to talk Care Bears. And Harry Potter is a global phenomenon. Surely you can talk to one of them.

Counter-Culture is a wonderful thing, as is following your own voice and doing your own thing. But don't hide behind a pre-conceived set of behavior to hide who you truly are. Because then, We become the Gothest Generation. And as God is my witness, Cinema Strange will not speak for me.


Grand Opening

I just started this blog.

....I'll think of something clever tomorrow.