Archive for August, 2022

Stop reading and dial 911. You stupid putz.

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I mean, do you really need to be told this? 

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And if you are actually “dialing” 911, I think the medical emergency is the least of your problems. 

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~Burglary – To steal a guy named Larry

~Burglaries – Stealing more than one Larry. The French call it Tuileries.

~Burgle – A modified bugle with an “r” in it to wake up pirates in the morning. It blares out an “Rrrrrrrrr.”

~Burgled – When you’ve stolen a hamburger. As in: He burgled a burger at Burger King

~Inexplicableness – I’d like to define it, but I can’t quite describe it

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In my pot-smoking days of the early 1970’s marijuana was a lot like Tupperware – it was passed around at parties and purchased with great enthusiasm. Pot was so pervasive back then, all you had to do was breathe in and there was a chance you’d get high. Some people didn’t want to take that chance. They were fearful of this “reefer madness.” Then they’d try it, and suddenly, it was reefer gladness. Their transformation was not done with smoke and mirrors – it was just smoke.   

 

From ages 10-14 I partook of the giggle smoke whenever my elders were around. Now these weren’t parental-type elders. These were just elders who were older than me – older than David-the-Younger. Older, and more importantly, they had pot. It was like elders with benefits. The 1970s were a less judgmental time when you shared what you had without distinction of rank or age (thank you very much Woodstock generation). And from almost 50 years hence I recognize the following strange story might give the impression I’m high right now. I’m not. Except for a few salmon, David-the-Elder hasn’t smoked anything in decades.

 

In revisiting my cannabis memories, I’ve reanimated that familiar fuzzy state and in the process activated one mother of a flashback. In this case it’s a harrowing incident I’d like to share with you – an incident that is a constant reminder of the importance of choosing the right parents. Of course, as far as I can tell, children have never been consulted on the matter, so it’s a moot point. But what’s a valid point is that you have to play the hand you’re dealt: or, more specifically, the body and circumstances you’re born into. Once the veil comes down…Game On. And this episode I present is just one volley in that game.

 

This flashback has enduring power and has taught me to practice eternal vigilance. It’s not that I’m forever suspicious, I just try to be aware of my local circumstances – to see around the corners of my actions and anticipate their consequences. And although this bizarre yet authentic tale may sound like the product of a THC-influenced imagination, I once again assure you, David-the-Elder has NOT been smoking anything mind expanding – unless you want to count the salmon. But remember, no matter how much salmon you smoke, it’s just waist-expanding, not mind-expanding. Read the rest of this entry »

1. Murdering musician Herb Alpert: Herbicide
2. Murdering TV host Pat Sajak: P_tr_c_de
3. When you really mean to throw away your old mattress, but you accidentally kill your mother instead: Mattress-cide
4. When you want to end it all to be with Jim Morrison: Break on Through to the Othercide

4.5 When you kill Raymond Burr: Ironcide
4.8 When you cause Cy Durr’s hard apple cider poisoning: Cy Durr’s Cidercide
5. When you refuse to have your salad dressings brought separately: On the Sidecide
6. When Geno from the pizzeria really pisses you off: Genocide

This killer list was inspired by Crunch Berries – the psychoactive substance in Captain Crunch cereal

When you’re an adult in a kid’s body you see things differently. So when our gang of little rascals got caught doorbell ditching, I knew I wasn’t on a highway to hell – maybe a highway to hijinks, but certainly not the road to ruin. And not to sound too streetwise, but while some say that being brought home in a police squad car at the age of 11 may have been a precursor to a life of crime, to me it was the smallest of small potatoes. Bogart in Casablanca had it right in another context when he pointed out that these problems, “don’t amount to a hill of beans.” Potatoes, beans…it’s all food for thought.

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And as I air this cleanest of dirty laundry, I knew back in 1972 I was far, far removed from ever being churned, put through the wringer and then hung out to dry by the criminal justice system. And not to sound cleanlier than thou, I knew I’d not be taken to the cleaners by the authorities. Nope, I’d just be a little agitated. But by virtue of this “wrong of passage” (as opposed to a “rite of passage”), I’d get to be the coolest “bad boy” in Mr. Campbell’s 6^th Grade class for a couple of weeks. Since I was 11 at the time of the “incident” allow me to kidsplain the story to you.   

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I understood limits – how far to push against something before it snapped back at you. Even as an 11-year-old stripling I was mightily aware of boundary lines and the importance of staying within them. Life was like a giant coloring book that way and I was savvy enough to stay inside the lines so my life wouldn’t become messy. In advertising my “brush with the law” to my schoolmates I was hoping for a measure of street cred to give the 11-year-old Hardiman brand a whiff of danger and a quantum of Bondian cachet (so much for kidsplainin’).

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Yes, at the tender age of 11 in 1972 I was trying to create a buzz in the pre-social media influencer age. Maybe I could have it all at 11. I could be clever, tall, handsome and dangerous. That was the calculus anyway, even if this ego-driven fantasy was built on a sandcastle of collapsing truths. I wanted to be a bad ass, but in the easy, non-confrontational way – to be regarded as a bad ass, not by fighting or stealing, but by reputation so I wouldn’t have to do the heavy lifting required to be an actual bad ass. Read the rest of this entry »

To all gastronomes, epicureans and foodies, I’ve finally put the finishing touches on my new restaurant (it’s so hard to find spittoons these days). And it is my pleasure to share with you its smashing new menu. Please remember that all foods and beverages at the Pompous Ass are ethically sourced, sustainably raised and processed by little people who are paid a living wage (if you consider a mud hut and a clay chamber pot a living wage). We will have a soft opening on Friday August 12^th and a hard opening just as soon as the Viagra arrives. We look forward to seeing you. Please peruse the menu below: 

 

 

The Pompous Ass

Executive Chef – Benito Agita    Sous Chef – Sue Scheff    Pastry Chef – Filo Dough

 

~ MENU ~

12^th of August, 2022

Starters

• Young Radishes, Baby Lettuces, Developmentally Challenged Turnips
• Large Small Mouth Bass, Jumbo Shrimp, Elongated Short Ribs 
• Fanny Crack Bread served with Irma’s sun-dried tap water

 

Zuppa del Giorno

What is Zuppa del Giorno? It’s the soup of the day.

• Cornstarch Chowder: Thick and….well, just thick. No spoon. Served with a trowel.    
• Cream of Salt: Saline Infused Brine, Sea Salt, Blue Salt, Green Salt, a tremendous amount of salt. Chef recommends “Salt to taste.”      
• Broccoli and Cheddar: Featuring KRAFT Imitation Broccoli Flecks

We also serve our signature Diluted Split Pea Soup – what it lacks in Pea-ness it makes up for in flavor

 

First Plate

• Locovore’s Dilemma: Norwegian Salmon, Chilean Sea Bass, Martian Halibut
• Paula Dean’s Down Home Myocardial Infarction: Served with Hopkins’ Farms Pork Rinds and Nancy’s Defibrillators 
• Gherkins Galore: Jerked Gherkins, Lammykin Gherkins, Next of Kin Gherkins and Kurt Jurgens Gherkins

 

Secondi 

• My Angry Stepmother’s Turkey: Served with Damaged Potatoes and “You Stupid Bitch You Ruined My Life” Gravy
• “I’ll have what she’s having” Oysters on the Rocks (if you prefer it sans rocks, a server will assist you in getting your rocks off)
• Silverfish Risotto: Certified New York Public Library Raised Silverfish (fresh from the Philosophy stacks), India Ink, Condoleeza Rice, gherkins  

 

Dessert

• Livermore Labs Locally Enriched Sustainable Plutonium: Wilma’s Candied Graphite, Centrifuged Raspberries. Served with a leaden codpiece.
• Real Expensive Cheese: Obscenely Priced Toast Points, Gouged Patron, gherkins
• Crayola Fondue: 8 Colorful Melted Crayons served with Lead Paint Dippin’ Chips, Bendy Celery and Musty Attic Lint
• I’ve Always Resented My Mother Blueberry Pancakes: Lotta Rage Maple Syrup, and Confectioner’s Angst

 

Dining Notes: A 400% Gratuity is assessed any table that mispronounces a menu item. All menu items are dynamically priced based on my gambling losses. There is no corkage fee, however if you bring a blanket, there’s a cover charge. Despite our haughty cuisine this is a tough place – the hat check girl’s name is Bruno.  

Allergy Alert: All food prepared on equipment used in the processing of peanuts and maybe just a little Crystal Meth.

Please be advised the entrance to the Pompous Ass is through the rear.

1. In Rouen, France every child has been on the road to Rouen.
   

   Just another road to Rouen.

2. Are nephews allowed in Nice?
3. A French tailor left my pants Toulon and Toulouse.
4. In France they eat well – nothing comes from a Cannes.
5. I see London, I see France, I see Putin’s sycophants
6. If you’re short on Euros, you lack Monet.
7. People love the Louvre. They say, “Live and let Louvre.”
8. If Paul Gauguin and Vincent Van Gogh were one painter, he would be Paulcent Van Goghguin.