Dear Readers Contributors of Taste and Power,
Lately there has been a great deal of discussion surrounding the subject of sandwiches. This has caused me to reflect deeply on the idea of sandwich, sandwich craftsmanship, sandwich ingenuity, and true sandwich greatness. While pondering the realm of sandwich l have come to know that a fine sandwichmen should be judged not only by the aesthetic and structural merit of his sandwich fabrication but also by the great adversity overcome in the acquisition of only the finest sandwich components. A great sandwichmen does not fear the stings of a thousand jelly fish whilst procuring meat of the rarest sea urchin. A truly great sandwichmen will wrestle the freshest berries from the maternal paw of the appalachian black bear with intentions of feeding her young. A great sandwichmen is a golden titan finely grinding the purest wheat between the tablets of Moses himself in hopes of holding a loaf frenched by the tongue of God.
And it is in this spirit that I propose a contest of a sandwich nature. The rules are as follows. You must construct a sandwich of your own design. This sandwich will be photographed and its contents indexed thoroughly. Each contestant will submit aforementioned photograph along with a detailed written description of the sandwich via a posting on Taste and Power. The reactions in the comments will determine the winner.
Good Luck to All,
P.S. Ya’ll are FUCKED.
…and so low in calories it had to be posted. Plus it happened in Belgium, and if you missed yesterday’s post from teenagediet, you can read it right after this and it’ll be like getting the ol’ one-two from Jean-Claude Van Damme…which is a lot more pleasant than it sounds.
It has come to my attention that not everyone is quite the scientist that I am, and as such these images require a little explaining. This is best science experiment ever, and you can do it at home right now. Just grab a two liter bottle of soda(I think these Belgian kids are on to something with the coke Light), unscrew the cap, and drop in the contents of a package of mentos. and WOOOOOOSH! science rulz.
Images from the original article in the Telegraph Uk here.
Great piece in the today’s New York Times Sunday Edition by a friend of T&P’s about the life and times of forgotten NY street photographer Jill Freeman. Yesterday the foothills behind my house caught on fire, and last night, on my way home from the grocery store, I passed group after group of “photographers” holding up their digital point-and-shoots (some on tripods) and camera phones and it made me think about how the ease of using these new technologies had democratized the medium, and how many more crappy photos are floating around the world as a result. This is not entirely terrible, but this article made me think about how many great photographers there must be from the lost age of the F-Stop which have eluded well-deserved recognition in recent times. So read.
The single for “High Come Down” by Chico and Coolwater featuring Nate Dogg. Claretin. Culture and Value by Ludwig Wittgenstein and a drawing by Dmitri Hertz and some dudes who were sleeping on my floor. These are the objects at the top of my charts this week.
So we all know contemporary art is boring. At least we all know that thats how most people feel about it. In addition to boring, other adjectives commonly used to describe the segment of cultural output are pretentious, masturbatory, self-serving, narcissistic, and, today’s key word: offensive. Art’s been pissing people off for centuries, and that is a big reason why I like it. People in general annoy the crap out of me, and even though art’s a limp-dick kind of gun, society just hates being conceptually tea-bagged by weirdo art-fags, while, for me, few other events can evoke the same feelings of bliss & joy from the depths of my depravity.
So recently we’ve been hearing a lot about that guy who starves dogs to death while socialites stand around watching, drinking wine and eating cheese. This seemed to piss people off pretty good, as it seemed i could not log on to myspace or Aim for several days without some horrified dog-lover forwarding me the story…and then came the petitions: “Stop this dog murderer before he strikes again!”
Spare me. Ain’t no myspace petition (more…)
Kylie Minogue: the world’s most prolific and pandemic diva.
Once upon a time in a “creative writing” class at PCC in 2005, I felt compelled to make a very important announcement to the whole class. Kylie Minogue had been diagnosed with breast cancer. I was really worried about her and thought everybody should know. Nobody in the class knew who I was talking about, and they laughed at me and asked who she was. I was so mad I didn’t even tell them. Fuck that class. I was only 3 or 4 years older than those fucking idiots and they were already oblivious to the intergalactic magic of the Minogue. I hope some of those chumps find this blog.
Kylie Minogue is the world’s greatest diva and has been ever since Madonna and Whitney Houston went nuts a while back and I’m madly in love with her and everybody else should be too. (more…)
As I sit here (in blackface) with no pants on, greasy unkempt hair reaching for the heavens like the branches of some odious sweaty tree, I am thinking about the entertainment industry in all of its forms. As an employee of the dying record producing industry, this affects me directly, but I don’t really care because I am young and I do not own anything of value (i.e. a business). Perhops this is sacrilegious to dispute the things written below me in a blog I am supposed to be a “part of,” but if all tangible media is going the way of self-produced-consumer-generated-and-controlled-garbage and Mayan hellfire is on the horizon, I don’t really have anything to be afraid of. (more…)
Look at these guys. So thats Ben Stiller obviously, and then there’s those other two. Does the black guy look familiar? He should. It’s good ol’ Robert Downey Jr! Your favorite snuggly Iron Man crackhead.
Generally speaking, blackface offends me. And the prospect of Robert Downey Jr. in blackface puts my panties in a jumble, to say the least. Blackface, used in comedies back in the 1920’s, is once again being committed to film for its comedic purposes. But maybe it’s not technically blackface. Just a white guy playing a black guy by coloring his skin black. Will Stiller’s use of blackface in his new film Tropic Thunder live up to the satirical genius of Spike Lee’s Bamboozled? I haven’t seen the movie yet so I don’t know much about the plot but the trailer seems to tell us that Robert Downey’s character is a white actor, so intense about his acting career, that he goes through an operation to MAKE himself black. (more…)
Next month Marvel Comics is releasing their newest installment in the misfortunate series of events that is their movie franchise. The creation of an IRON MAN movie, staring your favorite snuggly crack head Robert Downey, Jr. as Tony Stark, playboy billionaire and man behind the Iron Mask, has been something of a childhood fantasy for me. Back in the junior high days when no Marvel movies were being made (except for Dolph Lundgren’s PUNISHER and Wesley Snipes’ first BLADE movie) my pals and I would spend our time skating, smoking, and talking about useless shit like how rad it would be to see Spider-Man, Wolverine, or the Human Torch on the big screen. However, there was something way more special about Iron Man: he was also a muther fucking Black Sabbath song.
This idea had never left me through out the rest of my life (albeit, something I never dwelt on). Black Sabbath’s quintessential song “Iron Man” somehow involved with a movie about Iron Man the hero would be as awesome as discovering my first pube. So imagine my shock when this fantasy actually came to pass:
I don’t know if it’s the clearly propagandistic nature of the sequence, or just that I was super lame when I was 12, or maybe hearing Robert Downey talk leaves a bad taste in my mouth, but when I first saw this, and wasn’t considering for a even moment that Sabbath might actually have a role in this, I could not stop laughing in dismay. But, why? Why was I NOT super pumped up? WHY was this so lame to me? For christ’s sake, it was a boyhood fantasy come true! When does that ever happen? Instead, I was like a mad scientist who had just seen his monster come to life, overwhelmed with his own power to create the unthinkable, or, to quote Jeff Goldblum, “so caught up with whether or not I could that I never stopped to think if I should.” Nevertheless, where my 12 year old self would have climaxed on his chair my 24 year old self, after having finished laughing and realized what he had done, took another swig from his whiskey bottle and shook his head at his defeat with a half–life long war of fantasy versus reality. That is, not everything is as cool as it was when I was a kid.
On a side note, here’s a fun game I came up with: Think of other songs that would be even funnier than “Iron Man” for Iron Man to kick down doors to. My favorites are the chorus to Live’s “Lighting Crashes” and the hook in Boyz II Men’s “Motown Philly.” Seriously, this game will give you at least a half hour of entertainment.