In any case, I carry my trusty digital camera most places I go, and I take pictures of things which catch my fancy. Here're a few pictures I took last week:
I think there's something wrong with an ethic of organic food which still allows for picking completely unripe fruit out of season and shipping it long distance to mock residents of northern climes.
The stuff grown with petrochemical fertilizers wasn't really any yellower, but that's at least what you would expect from industrial produce.
A conversation with my housemate Carlos about his love of fast food led me to indulge in my semi-annual Whopper.
I give the whole experience three and a half out of five stars. First, there's the drive-through. I probably derived most of the enjoyment from nostalgia, but to smell the indistinct Burger King aroma while waiting in the car was delightful. The price was cheap and the service was fast.
The actual Whopper was filled with indistinct Burger King flavor, which for the most part was a good thing. The experience was over quickly, but not altogether unsatisfying. Lots of pickles.
Mostly it was just great to give the middle finger to forces which tell me fast food is a horrible thing and enjoy it for half an hour. I suspect this is what is behind much of Burger King's recent success. They've come out with new sandwiches which take calorie density to unreached heights, and Americans have responded enthusiastically.
Have you seen the recent commercials where they tell Burger King customers they can't have a Whopper? It's an astounding feat that you can make beloved intellectual property out of a cheeseburger. There are essentially the same ingredients in a Whopper as in any other burger, yet I know one when I taste one. I guess it's the indistinct Burger King flavor.
Thinking about it, that happens all across the American foodscape. Chips Ahoy tastes different from Chips Deluxe. Campbell's Chicken Noodle Soup tastes different from Progresso. Somehow value is added by affixing a brand to the commodity in question: you know what you're getting. The soup may not be any good, but at least you know that this can tastes the same as that can. Familiarity breeds comfort.
My (Catholic) stepdad heard that I had been turned down by a (wonderful) girl recently, so he put this ad for the priesthood in my bedroom mirror at home.
What a guy, huh? Sometimes a gentle ribbing is much better than straight sympathy. It's great to have an older man who can tell me not to take myself so seriously.
Note that this ad's strategy is to reassure you that life as a priest is preferable to suicide. "Hey, is your life not worth living? You sound like just the kind of man we're looking for!" If I were them, I would set the bar higher.