Get Thee Behind Me

Now, I've been called many things by strangers while out on my bike: Jerk, Asshole, Jerkhole, Assjerk... you get the idea.  I've also been the recipient of lots of constructive criticism, such as "Get off the Fucking Road" and "Slow Down Asshole."  All of these bon mots I take to heart, and try to use to better myself.  You know, by not being such a jerkhole... as least not all the time.

But last week, while riding rather slowly by an older ponytailed man, he looked directly at me, smiled, waved, and said, quite clearly:

"Bye Satan."

Then, just in case I thought I head misheard him, he repeated, "Bye Satan."

Yeah, I don't know what to make of it either.  I mean, am I Satan?  That would be kind of awesome.

But don't you think someone closer to me may have clued me into that previously?  Or that I may have noticed that I had some special skills like, for example, being immortal and having godlike powers?  And also, I don't think I would sweat as much, which would be nice.

But then again, maybe this beponytailed (hey, it works for spectacles) gentleman just has an incredible power of insight and sees what all others have missed.

But wait, maybe I'm not Satan (hurray!), but Satan was with me on my ride.  Kind of like that "one set of footsteps in the sand" parable, but bike centered.  Oh, and evil.  Yes, maybe Satan was simply acting as my personal cycling coach and, having done his training for this evening, was taking off.  So, this stranger was just being polite and bidding him adieu.

Great, now that Satan is training me, I'm sure I'm going to have to buy a powermeter.  Damn.

Wikipedia, meh.

Alright, yes, Wikipedia is somewhat nifty.  How else could you can find out all the facts there are to be known about Fictional Plants or Yatytay, Paraguay?  That's obviously invaluable to the betterment of society.  But my beef with them rests on three pillars.

1) You're internet based.  Thus, you have zero credibility.  Look at MySpace.  I rest my case.

2) You're created by an unpaid, largely anonymous group of know-it-all nerds.  Paid nerds have accomplished amazing things (science, medicine, internet porn).  But left to their own devices in their leisure time the best they've come up with is Dungeons and Dragons.

3) You take yourself too seriously and have no sense of humor about yourself or the world in general.

Yes, I am very thankful for number three, otherwise I would just be describing this blog.  Then I would have a beef with myself, and as any butcher will tell you, self-beefing is not to be encouraged.  In fact, it is currently illegal in 17 states, "seriously frowned upon" in 10 others, and "not mentioned in polite company" in the remainder.  Well, except for New Hampshire, where I think they provide tax breaks for self-beefers.  But New Hampshiranians are batshit crazy anyway.

"But Tulibo", I hear some of you saying (or, "Pero Tulibo" from my readers in Yatytay), "I cannot challenge the first two pillars of your argument, for they are solid and strong, like the mythical Wroshyr trees of Kashyyyk.  But I do not see the reasoning for your third pillar.  Please, enlighten me."

Well, dear reader, prepare to have your socks blown right through your shoes.

Exhibit 1: http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Count_Chocula&oldid=64163729

A brilliant, engaging, and thorough history of the life and times of Count Chocula.

Exhibit 2: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Count_Chocula

The current Wikipedia page on Count Chocula.  Not interesting, not informative.  All but useless.

Why the edit?  Why did Wikipedia remove this stunning example of fictional history?  Because it isn't true.

Bullshit, Wikipedia.  Prove it isn't true!  Huh?  That's right, you can't.  Because he's a fictional fucking character.

There is no truth, it's a goddamn breakfast cereal.  So then what does it hurt to have a hypothetical history of the Count?  Nothing.  Okay, maybe Billy Thompson, the third grader in Grand Rapids who is doing a show and tell next week on Count Chocula.  But, let's be honest, Billy's kind of fucked in school anyway.  A successful show and tell isn't going to help his future prospects.

But Wikipedia can't stand to have something "untrue" in it.  Well, guess what Wikipedia?  You're full of mistakes, falsifications, and outright lies.  You're created by the general public.  And they're self-serving, egocentric, asshole idiots (no, not you dear reader, you're delightful... and attractive... and smell vaguely of cupcakes).  So please Wikipedia, get over yourself, relax, and let a few known falsifications stand for the entertainment of us all.  I'm personally much happier living in a world where Count Chocula started out as Ernst Choukula's Golden Wheat Muesli, a packaged mix intended for horses, mules, and the hospital ridden.  

More Food Crimes Against Nature

As a follow up on my recent post about spray foods (and thanks to Bridget) I bring you....

The Candwich

Yes, let the preemptive vomiting begin.

It comes in peanut butter with grape or strawberry jelly, barbeque chicken, and a pepperoni pizza pocket sandwich amalgam from hell.  It's perfect for soccer moms, cyclists, and an isolated post-apocalyptic survivalist.  So, basically, whichever of my career choices I follow, the candwich fits right in.

Ah, science, what hath thou wrought now?  Now, just because you can do something (no pun intended), doesn't mean you should.  I could can bread, probably, but I don't, because that would be gross.  Wait, what?

Well fuck.  Where is this bunch of assholes with a cannery and too much free time?  Get another hobby, dammit, and stop canning random things.  Please.  Before you get really out of hand.  Oh shit, too late.

Well, at least they're Manhattan Style.  Now New England style canned fish assholes?  That would be gross.

Give me more stuff in a tube!

I was perusing the aisles of the local mega-mart and came across this glorious concoction:

Yes, Batter Blaster!  Oops, make that ORGANIC Batter Blaster.  Because god forbid your pancake/waffle batter in a spray can is somehow unnatural.  It's produced by the Batter Blaster Company of sunny Scottsdale, Arizona.  And frankly, I feel like they're seriously limiting their opportunities to sell foods in a can.  Personally, I would have named it the Food In a Can Company.  We would go by FICCo internally.  Yes, this is yet another reason I am not in charge of my own company.

Anyway, to review our pressurized food offerings to date, whipped cream and spray cheese led the pressurized food charge.  I'm glad to see pancake batter finally getting in on the game, but frankly I'm disappointed that this is all we've seen.  Where's our spray peanut butter and jelly?  How about chocolate chip cookie dough?  Or maybe italian sausage meat?  Yeah, this future is disappointing me as well.

It's hard to make out in the photo, but the serving suggestions on the bottom of the label suggest that you "Simply blast batter into a skillet or waffle iron.  No cleanup!"

Really?

When else have the words "blast" and "no cleanup" ever gone together?  Nope, you're going to have batter blasted everywhere.  On the ceiling.  In your hair.  Somehow behind the refrigerator.  Pretty much everywhere except your skillet or waffle iron.

Does this temper my love for this product?  Hell no, I'll take massively inferior product if it comes in a can.  Face it, spray cheese is horrific, whipped cream in a can tastes about 1/10th as delicious as true whipped cream, and these sprayed pancakes have a soupy texture coming out of the can and an odd chemical aftertaste, but I bought the damn stuff anyway, because I'm doing all I can to usher in a future filled with chemically processed pressurized foodstuffs.