When in Rome
When in Rome
Favorite snacks of the great writers!
I love lime Popsicles.
NO MORE NO LESS TWENTY-SEVEN DON’T FUCKING BLOW IT - (Rose punch recipe)
Apparently this mothafuckin fish is making a comeback in the lakes around Buffalo. I hate this fish and it must be destroyed.
The lake sturgeon is so reprehensible that to prove its status as an utterly nasty lil’ fuckin’ trashbin with fins, I need only point to the facts about the species as provided by Wikipedia. There’s no debating that this thing is Satan’s watery sidekick.
The sturgeon is a bottomfeeder that doesn’t even have proper bones. It’s an evolutionary disgrace that “uses its elongated, spadelike snout to stir up the substrate and sediments” and gather up worms, leeches and larvae for dinner. Gross! The sturgeon has taste buds on its barbels, which are sensory organs that dangle near its gaping, rubbery, prehensile lips. Why taste buds are necessary for a fish that eats trash, I don’t know.
All this would be totally fucking intolerable for any creature, but the size, I SAY THE SIZE, of this fucker is what makes it the stuff of nautical nightmares. Even though the sturgeon eats lil’, low-calorie tidbits of trash all day, it manages to eat four gazillion calories in garbage so that it can grow to be seven feet long and 300 pounds. Holy fuck.
This fucker is just swimming along in the lake where folks are swimming and boating in dumb little kayaks that a wayward sturgeon could, I IMAGINE, just fucking capsize with a swish of its filthy tail and mouth udders. The lake sturgeon lives for, I don’t know, goddamn forever as part of its deal with Satan to reign over the Great Lakes. It can reach sexual maturity as late in its life as 23 years old. The lake sturgeon is a late bloomer and also probably has fucking gross, dirty fish sex that I’m not even going to think about now. According to the DEC, a sturgeon was caught in Canada in 1953 that 154 years old at the time. This fish that was caught during the Eisenhower administration began its fishy life in the administration of the first John Adams, whom no one cared for among the Founding Fathers. Still, Adams is better than a lake sturgeon!
The lake sturgeon nearly disappeared from this planet more than a century ago as fishermen zealously scooped them up and sold them to what I imagine were the self-styled Anthony Bourdains of the Edwardian era. Apparently, 5 MILLION pounds of sturgeon were fished from Lake Erie in a single year, which means that holy fucking shit there were, like, 2 million plus of these fuckers in Lake Erie. Erie’s a Great Lake, but it’s the smallest of them. How would you dip a toe in the lake without having the prehensile lips of the sturgeon rub up on them? Jesus!
Look at this asshole hugging his sturgeon like it’s a cocker spaniel.
I’m never sleeping again after that Google image search. Stuff of fucking fish nightmares.
*I have been unable to put fingertips to keyboard lately for fear that anything, everything I have to write is inane and inarticulate, and requires some sort of preface or justification for even taking up this humble, free space. Excuse me, I’m sorry, I’m not an expert or anything, and pardon me if you stumble upon this and feel as though you’ve wasted your time, even though you can leave at any time, it’s OK, just go, I’m not offended, but I wanted to share … What is that shit about? I don’t need to explain myself.
"When in attendance at the fine dining establishment of Moon Chinese Buffet, ninth grade honors students proved their intelligence and cultural awareness by playing with chopsticks for three-quarters of an hour and unabashedly digging into a large vat of onion rings before the lo mien and sweet and sour chicken."
- “What students really get from their quality honors education,” your humble blogger, public high school freshman, period 5
I said yes.
This incredibly accomplished woman, Amal Alamuddin, balances a busy international law career and the burdens of raven hair. She is also engaged to marry a movie star.
Cawing all women born with the affliction of raven hair! One of our ilk has entrapped perennial bachelor George Clooney in an agreement for marriage. This wiley attorney, certainly good with contracts but better with bird seed and a flat iron, has succeeded where scores of flaxen-haired waifs have failed. The ascendance of this “raven-haired beauty” to pop culture relevance gives me occasion to share some tips for managing life with raven hair. If you want to know more about how to become an attorney of such wide acclaim and accomplishment that the UN calls upon your expertise, ask Amal Alamuddin. Negotiating a delicate relationship with avian coiffure, that I know well.
As a well-known sufferer of raven hair, Katy Perry has been vocal about
Proactive cutting-edge nesting treatments.
Tending to raven hair can be a hassle, but the good news is that women who have birds for hair are usually able to find affordable and seasonally adaptable options for bird nourishment that fit right into a wash-and-go beauty routine! Whipping up a combination shampoo-conditioner-carrion-bits solution to use on your hair each morning will save you time and ensure that hair ravens are fed before their incessant, hungry cawing wakes your neighbors.
Molting season can be rough on raven-haired lasses, but a neatly executed “sock bun” can hide uneven plumage and unsightly flyaways. Ornithologists and cosmetologists agree that unpredictable patterns in molting are among the most significant challenges for raven-haired beauties, but natural-looking, weave-in feathers are becoming more popular and affordable every year.
Even though ravens are notoriously resistant to embracing color trends such as ombres and multi-tone highlighting, raven-haired ladies can take advantage of the passerine property that allows ravens to hold tightly onto perches — for long-lasting curls! Ringlets, waves and loose curls are all great styles for women who literally have birds sitting on their heads day and night.
Raven-haired women enjoy unique hair style opportunities.
Tired of conducting all their daily business with wingèd harbingers of doom attached to their scalps, some raven-haired beauties elect to eradicate their bird locks. Extreme caution is advised for those considering this drastic measure. While an at-home solution may be successful in the short term, snake hair is far more difficult to manage than raven hair and should only be committed to after consultation with a veterinary-beautician who has appropriate certifications.
Be sure to match your eyebrows to your hair if you undertake a drastic change.
Ravens love shiny objects and raven-haired gals dazzle in ornithological formal updos. The raven’s keen intelligence can be an asset to raven-haired beauties who work with, and not against, what nature gave them. After fighting mainstream beauty standards for years, some women are wearing their raven hair in natural, relaxed styles. Bird hair, don’t care, y’all.
Seriously, can’t we do a better job not attaching nearly meaningless appearance-related cliches like this to women all the fucking time?
|JET:||I have issues with volunteering overall but holy shit am I opposed to "volunteering" for for-profit entities.|
|JET:||The fucking Buffalo Bills are not Friends of the Night People.|
|SMP:||Have you been to a tailgate? Doesn't look too different from the scene on Wadsworth.|
Garbage news overfloweth my “trash” Google doc on this Earth Day
There’s no such thing as free trash. Sure, my apartment’s rent includes the city garbage fee, and when I bury spent batteries* into the mulch at the neighborhood playground after dusk no one sends me an invoice, but just because I don’t personally incur explicit costs for all the trash I make and dispose of at apparently no charge doesn’t mean there are no costs. As with the proverbial free lunch, all trash has costs ultimately borne by the garbage monster who made it or society. In honor of Earth Day, today I explore some of the hidden costs of trash.
It’s a universal truth that everything eventually becomes trash. Old cars become trash. Busted sidewalks become trash. Burnt out buildings become trash. You and I, trash we will become. And all that trash must go somewhere. Small bits of refuse go out in the weekly trash. The kind of toxic shit generated when a contractor tears down an old building – or as I like to call it an asbestos, lead and assorted carcinogens buffet – has to go somewhere to be further broken down into trash nuggets.
Where is a good place to crush up concrete and bust florescent light bulbs? Maybe next to a far-flung dump? Maybe in a place with adequate environmental controls? Maybe in an industrial zone suitable for big machinery and daily dump truck traffic? That all sounds socially and practically responsible. However, the farther away from its origin that trash travels, the more expensive it is for the trash trafficker. One unsavory man in Buffalo figured out a way to cut his costs and pass them on to others. Enter the Buffalo businessman who remembered the old adage, if you have something undesirable to do, do it where poor people live.
The suburb-dwelling entrepreneur Peter Battaglia, who runs a trash-smashing business in a blighted residential neighborhood of Buffalo, was the subject of an extensive investigation by a reporter friend of mine. Battaglia’s open-air, concrete-crushing business sits no more than a few hundred feet from occupied homes in a neighborhood the city committed to improving by eliminating dust and “dust generators” years ago. (What is this? Dust as a social problem? Is this early industrial-era London?) He manages to run this enterprise in legal limbo and so a neighborhood of people unable to easily move is subjected to his reign of trash terror. His technique for neighbor relations is straight out of the Chevron playbook: if your business produces an undesirable and potentially deadly byproduct, indicate gestures of goodwill via small bribes. It’s always personally cheaper to offer small gifts to the those who bear the costs of your dirty business than to systemically improve an industry. Get this man a tax cut! He is a top-notch American business owner.
On the privileged side of the social costs of trash disposal discussion are the people of West Seneca, whose complaints about how their town-mandated trash totes are too big made the last trash day roundup. The unaccounted for social costs of garbage disposal in the town include looking at an unattractively colored receptacle and feeling jilted about the alleged dearth of resident input and brazen town supervisor overreach in the USSWest Seneca.
Some choice comments from the West Seneca Bee newspaper’s “Bee Heard” section, which allows readers to leave anonymous voicemails that an intern will be left to transcribe provide examples of the suffering residents endure.
Unlike Cheektowaga who has medium tan totes or Depew who has dark green totes, both of which blend into the landscape, we have the bright blue totes that makes us look like the City of Buffalo. Why couldn’t they ask the general public for our input, so we don’t have totes that stick out like a sore thumb?
With West Seneca going to the new garbage totes and recycling bins, I think the town should put flyers in all residents’ mailboxes about what can be recycled. The new company doing the recycling is taking three times as much stuff as the old company, so people need to know about this. It’s on the town website, but the town should put it in mailboxes. Even pizza boxes are recyclable now.
The Bee’s poll question about being happy with the garbage totes is not a fair assumption for senior citizens who don‘t have computers to answer this. Most seniors who I spoke with are dissatisfied with the totes. They are too big for us to handle, and we don’t have enough garbage to fill them. I liked putting my little black bag on the curb for pickup.
I guess we are stuck with these unwieldy garbage totes, but we don’t have to be stuck with Sheila Meegan when it comes to election time.
Any student of change management will know that the way these garbage totes were implemented was not done very well. If the community was involved in a pilot project or had a say in how it was done, the entire process would have been handled much better.
Yawn. I hope someone puts a toxic trash-processing site next door to the person scandalized by the fact that pizza boxes can go in the recycling bin.
Efforts to discourage reckless trash production via financial penalties occasionally gain traction only to be forgotten a couple days later. Apropos of nothing, Buffalo blogger and smug upper-middle-class liberal Newell Nussbaumer took to his soap box/website of restaurant ads and ill-reasoned blog posts to condemn the rampant use of plastic bags in Buffalo and around the world. Newell hopes that Buffalo will follow in the footsteps of progressive Mecca New York City and take up a 10-cent surcharge for all plastic bags. Not a bad idea to use actual American dollar costs to persuade people to avoid generating trash that burdens society and the environment in the long run.
“Anyone can afford to purchase reusable bags (if they don’t already have them) – at Wegman’s shoppers can pick up a reusable bag for one dollar,” Newell points out, which is true. Price Rite, the grocery store for poor people (including me! I’m a poor person) already sells dime bags. How ’bout a shout out to the best place to buy Goya products in my neighborhood? “I’m rooting for NYC [note: and Price Rite Elmwood Avenue!] to set this important precedent.”
The search for Malaysian Airlines Flight MH370 has been hampered from the beginning by piles of floating plastic ocean trash that have misled international search agencies, Courtney Love and CNN. Of all plastic goods on earth, 2.5 percent are expected to end up in the ocean as trash after falling off shipping containers, being dumped off cruise ships and, well, falling out of the sky. Ocean junk is concentrated in five big confluences of currents called gyres. How this scientific term is pronounced (gyres? jyres? — paralleling the great GIF pronunciation dispute — or, worse “yeeeres” like my least favorite item on a Greek restaurant menu) no one knows. Hidden benefit: sea monster hoarders are grateful for the continual infusion of goods to their trash stashes.
In the end, we will all become trash. Eco-friendly funerals are gaining attention among those selfless souls who don’t want to stick Mother Nature with the environmental costs of their death. Green burial options involve eschewing traditional funerals with heavy, metal coffins* and gratuitous waste. A favorite statistic among the green burial crowd is that enough steel is buried with coffins to build a Golden Gate Bridge every year. Much better to take the long nap in a pine box that doubled as a bookshelf/daily reminder of your mortality that drove you mad before your death.
Litterati is a clever way to crowdsource community cleanups. The art- and earth-loving folks behind the project ask that participants photograph trash they encounter, share the photo in the “digital landfill” and then actually pick up the trash.
The Brightwater Wastewater Treatment Center in Washington state is now offering to rent its facilities for wedding festivities. Friends, please start saving your toilet paper rolls now. I have a great DIY centerpiece idea for my reception.
Throwing out undelivered mail is a bad idea if you’re a mailman because that’s a felony, and, you know, you can at least recycle it, dick.
* I mean, seriously, how are you supposed to dispose of batteries?
* “heavy, metal coffins” vs. “heavy metal coffins” vs. “heavy-metal coffins”