in this issue!

#
S
your host
—Ed E. Haskell—
That is what I would
look like if I had a
pig snout
editor's
hello
corner
Okay so even without planning this issue turned
out to have a kind of food theme, I mean like
every conversation I had with anyone was about
food and many articles mentioned it. I did not
have a hand in this. Maybe it is because
everyone is trying to store up fat for winter,
which is still a thing I cannot do. Maybe that
means in the past I would have died. I guess I'm
just lucky that my genes got to the future,
where I could be so unlucky in so many new,
modern ways. Happy Holidays. —EEH
IN THIS ISSUE!
CORNELIUS BEAR
Only one man is Cornelius Bear, and this is a careful
look at him. This interview is tight and on-budget. No
one can complain.
MEMORIES OF CHINESE
FOOD
Chinese food is hella special to a lot of dudes. Here are
their thoughts.
OPINIONS ON THE
CHINESE
This ain't racist, unless you play it that way. MWY
magazine ain't playin' it that way, but what about guys
like Todd?
Everybody knows about the Billboard Top Ten.
But what about the Bottom Ten? Technically,
there are a bottom ten. We went to the Library
and found out the bottom ten for April 4th, 1984.
This is literal. They don't print this end.
Here Comes Tom Chime
Greasewell and the Del-Tins
Mansion of Blood
M.I.S.E.R.I.C.H.O.R.D.
I Can Hear the Coconuts Sleep
Wayne Aoki
She Taught Me to Ski in the Wintertime
Rowell Gertrude
Talk to the Taco
Pini
I Do The Rock
Tim Curry
Leap of the Mourning Hare
Kell & Baxter (instrumental)
The Dog Rap
DJ Prince Howell and the 8th Street Kites
I Get The Money
I Get The Money
6?:ð6g (agog)
NAME-A-BEER
Ryddled Wyythe Promysse: Lancashyre Eyvensonge
Actually, this is even more in-depth than that. We ask
dudes their favorite beers, but we also ask WHY.
Thank you to Tré-odor for drivin' us to the Library
and for gettin' change for the photocopier.
—E.E.H.
IT PAYS TO HAVE
WORD ABILITY
Enrich — and BECOME rich — by using vocabulary!
OFFICER WILSON: Get out of the car! NOW!
GAS: [silent]
m
a
This Week's Words!
Af
OFFICER WILSON: Oh well. I guess I'll have
to get the gas out of the car by driving it.
ou
ss
pea
s
k er d e m o n s t r a t e s h i
ity
abil
Deppo
(adj.) This word describes a young dude
who works at kind of a low job with a
uniform, like a tire person at Pep Boys
auto parts megastore, or a dude who
works at Kragen Auto Store, yet unlike
the other guys he keeps pretty carefully
done "rockabilly" hair with big chop
sideburns and some real wet-look body
around the sides and top. It is clean
and immaculately maintained. Guys like
this often also work as cashiers at
Whole Foods-type grocery stores where
the chicks have blowhungus (huge)
tattoos on their entire shoulder, and
sagged tits. Dudes like this are deppo.
Usage: "Dude the guy who bagged our
groceries was deppo. I bet his girlfriend
has Bettie Page bangs and a kid in third
grade."
Meemotize
(v.) When you are getting instructions
from a boss, and they're kind of boring
and you know you'd figure out the task
anyway ("Carl, take these three different
kinds of paper stock that got mixed
together and separate them and put
them in the paper assortment area,
you'll know when you've got them all
done because in each stack none of
them will look different, the paper in
each stack will look pretty identical"),
you meemotize, not memorize. It's like
taking a mental memo by grabbing only
one or two basic bits of data ("separate
this paper"). Usage: "Gary, that totally
bloated dude from the Leavenworth
office was talking, and I so meemotized.
He wanted us to show up on time
instead of late."
Triple Jackson
(adj.) Used to describe situations in
which there are just way too many
unnecessary, basically identical things.
Etymology: The Jackson 5. There really
needed to be only one Jackson*, and
the rest are just sort of a jumble.
Usage: "Man I would go to Baskin
Robbins but it is just so Triple Jackson.
It takes me a damn day to decide on
Vanilla Peach With Microbiscuit Bundt
Channel."
Tumber
(future v.) This is the word that will come
to describe how most Americans will
walk by 2025. Torso leaned back to
counterbalance the enormous spilling
gut, neck stiff from fitful nights of sleep
apnea, stiff ankles, each leg swung
slightly forward then planted before
starting the process over, toes out at
45-degree angles from path of travel,
arms barely moving at the sides.
Anthropologists may wish to do early
field observation of this evolution in the
"gauntlet" (the twenty feet between the
McDonald's and Taco Bell/Pizza Hut
restaurants that live inside of every Wal
Mart).
*Jermaine, "The Regular One."
historical@
agreement@
minuteZ@ Cyndi
Lauper
Cyndi Lauper is the Most Awesome Person in the World:
A Treatise and Exploration of Facts.
Alright, so you might think that scientists like Albert Einstein or Freddie
Time Bomb were the most important dudes in history, but you'd be
wrong. I am sorry to say this to you. The most important person in
history is Cyndi Lauper. Before you start hitting your own head with
some of the lighter volumes from the Encyclopedia Britannica, let me
provide the following points. You at least owe me that. —E.E.H.
1) Cyndi Lauper continues to be an
ageless babe. There are no bad
photographs of her, even though she is
53.
2) You could not talk to her at a bar,
because you would screw it up. Even
though she is probably nice.
3) Gwen Stefani is not her kid, and also
looks older than her.
4) You would be lucky to even get a hug
from Cyndi Lauper, let alone a classy
cheek kiss.
5) If you could happen to spend just one
weekend with Cyndi Lauper at an upscale
rental cottage on Cape Cod, it would be
the best weekend of your life. She is
probably even fun and full of character in
the mornings.
6) If Cyndi Lauper had food poisoning in a
motel room, I would charter a plane just
to bring her a glass of water.
7) All the chicks you see slunking around
in black bank pants and dry-clean shirts
wish they had not lost track of the career
path that would have made them Cyndi
Lauper. ALL of them. Ask any one,
guaranteed.
8) The video for She Bop begins with
Cyndi jacking off in her car at a fast food
restaurant. She jacks off so hard that the
car is filled with steam and you can see
her feet bouncing off the window. CASE
CLOSED.
What is Your Beer and
Why is Your Beer That
Choice
Téodor
I guess I'm into crisper beers, lately.
Stuff like pilsner or lager. I don't know
what it is. Well, actually, I do know
what it is. Beers that are heavy and full
of rich flavor make me feel even fatter.
I don't want to drink from a bottle that
says "stout" on it. I'm already stout. I'm
a bear, for crissakes. I want to drink
from a bottle that says...I want a shot of
vodka and a smoke, actually. You don't
get fat off vodka. I'm going to get a
vodka right now. Thanks for reminding
me that I don't have anything to do
right now, and that I have some vodka.
It was a birthday gift from Aunt
Brezna, actually. We are from Minsk, so
it's okay that it's 11:43am.
TODD
Beer? B-B-Beer?! Mother-wipin' beer?
You gotta be kiddin' me! Who drinks
frikkin' beer anymore 'cept as a waitin'
thing! I gotta guy on 4th...whatcha pay,
four bucksa' pint?...four bucks...he'll
getcha frikkin' bloody for four bucks!
Gimme the cash, I'll call up. Walk down
Grant. Blue jacket. You, not him.
Shaddup.
a Commitment to
facts by E.E.H
the beer to put whiskey in. I'm not too
sure that I care about any of this,
though. I like to put the whiskey in the
beer and I'm not a big "fusser" about it.
How can I care about what you are
asking at this point. I am at the point
where I will do it [hang up]. [Hangs
up]
MR.
bear
LYLE
Ah. Well. I have written at length
(transcribed from phone, with a kind ear, by
Roast Beef)
The beer that I like is called Molson, or
Weinhard's, or other beer. I like to use
elsewhere about Fuller's 1845...that
was over two years ago, however, and
I'm not feeling as nostalgic at the
current time. I've actually been keeping
Budweiser lately, of all things. I
know, I know. Lyle offered me one a
few weeks ago, however, and it had
been ages since I'd held one. I'd
completely forgotten how powerful
their advertising is. When I hold
the bottle, I feel a good half my age,
slightly more dangerous, and
athletic. It doesn't even matter that
the stuff tastes like a man's ear. At
this age, I'll take any advantage the
market puts forth.
pat
reynolds
(recently gay)
Oh my goodness, you're at it again,
aren't you. Your silly little
photocopy newsletter. Well, fine.
What do I care. What beer do I
drink? I don't drink beer. You can't
waste calories like that. If you want
to refresh your thirst, try some suntea made in a glass jar. Don't drink
some fool beer. And DON'T make
the tea in a plastic bottle. I don't
have to tell you about sunlight and
leeching polymers. I have to go now.
You know I got a terrible rate plan
from Cingular. I can't believe you
even called me. Just email me this
junk, okay? [Editor's note: Pat was
this way even before he done gone
gay. -e.e.h. ]
EMERIL
LEGOINEGASQUE
Well it is funney you should bring it
up at this time as I have just popped
open a bottle of my favorite new
beer Bard & Ladder Cheddar Porter.
Spongebath was given it in his
monthly sampling from the
Artisanal Beers Society to which I
joined him last holiday season. It
immediately became our favorite
new beer. In the bottom of each
bottle they have placed three cubes
of cheddar which manage not to
lodge in the neck until the very end
at which point they do slide out and
provide a wonderful treat.
Recipes ...
of
by Tré-Od or
Histo ry
Recently we did some studies here at
Man Why You Even Got To Do A
Thing and we came across several
ancient manuscripts of recipes. (The
more recent manuscripts are not ancient
but rather from the October 1953 Sunset
Magazine.) By Tré-Odor and the
Library.
flames. Secure the first rope at top
and bottom with a second rope,
should the first rope burn and drop
the bird into ashes, ruining the
flavour. When roasted black and
crisp, chop immediately to shreds
with a fine cleaver, and be not
niggardly with the nutmeg.
Appetizement of
Macherel-fish.
Roast of Beef
(Middle English)
Take two sprigs parssley, one fine
Macherel-fish, and a horn of garlicke.
Place them into a mortar, and work
them into a slyme. Serve with bread
dried over a slow hearth, nutmeg to
taste.
Eggs
1521 AD
Lay two eggs in a sizzling pan, then
drench them until well-covered.
When the yolks have misted, remove
the eggs to a plate strewn simply
with purslane and cardamom branch.
Add nutmeg. Eggs should be
prepared in no other way.
Guinea Fowl
1632 AD
Take one fat guinea fowl, beat it and
thrash it until it is dead, and pluck.
Light three heavy oak logs and one of
cedar. When dressed-out and
seasoned, hang the fowl, with a
moistened dray's rope, over the
1689 AD
Choose one old cow, and run it
through with spears and blades until
quite dead. Burst the udder with a
mace. Hammer the ankles until the
many small bones are deemed
broken, and reserve for soup. Taking
the top of the cow, being the
sturdiest meat, lash it onto a fine spit
over hot coals, turning frequently,
until the juices no longer run (1-2
weeks). Cut the cooked meat and toss
with nutmeg at serving-time.
Sorrel a la Anglíque
1904
Take one scant handful of sorrel
leaves, and stir well into two pints of
fine fresh mayonnaise. Spoon into
center of highly polished salver.
Garnish around with carefully
alternating parsleyed toast points,
vinegar-cured black olives, quartered
hard-boiled eggs, smoked oysters,
and shavings of black truffle. Over
the dressed sorrel lay anchovy fillets
to create a simple diamond pattern.
In center top, mound a tablespoon of
Pyke-fish. Do not use.
Macherel-fish.
minced onion and caviar. Serve with
a side of whole roast chicken, behind
the diner, to provide a pleasing
aroma.
Mock Steak Surprise!
1953
Hubby forget to tell you he invited
the boss for dinner? You're not out of
luck! With this simple recipe, you can
have T-bones for three on the table
by the time the third martini has
whetted their appetites!
For hubby and the boss, thaw and
broil two juicy T-bone steaks, seven
minutes per side. For you, form an
Africa-shaped patty out of ground
beef mixed with equal parts storebought bread crumbs and Hunt's
ketchup, cut it in half down the
center, and insert a blanched, tender
plank of carrot down the line of the
cut. Broil seven minutes a side. When
cooled, "paint" the carrot white with
frosting! They'll be none the wiser.
Serve with Broccoli a la Shreveport,
and a moulded tomato Jell-O in the
shape of an adding machine. Dust off
your ten-key and pretend to
tabulate—what a gas they'll have!
CORNADOES
2175 AD
IN A WORLD WITHOUT
WEATHER, IN ETERNAL
DARKNESS, CORN DOES NOT
GROW. THE SUN, HAVING BEEN
DESTROYED BY CARDINAL
LUTHER BANGERTER IN 2098,
AT THE HEIGHT OF THE WAR
OF GODS, CANNOT ILLUMINATE
YOUR PATH AS YOU FORAGE
FOR TINNED CORN FROM THE
21ST CENTURY. TAKE ONE FINE
CRANK-LIGHT AND SCOUR THE
BLIGHTED COUNTRYSIDE FOR
THE TELLTALE REMAINS OF A
CONCRETE FOUNDATION.
WHERE GRAY-WATER PIPES
RISE BUT NOT SEWER-PIPES,
DETECT FOR METAL.
UNEARTHING A CAN OF CORN,
BRING IT HOME AND HEAT A
PAN OVER TWO OR THREE
TIRES, DEPENDING ON SIZE.
STIR THE CORN UNTIL
FRAGRANT, THEN ADD
KETCHUP TO BIND. SPOON
ONTO PLATES AND SERVE
EACH "CORNADO" WHILE
STILL HOT.
view
r
e
t
n
i
Cornelius Bear
— Interview by Ed E. Haskell
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Cornelius at
the Badass
Games
ME: Cornelius what are you
doing. Probably every moment
is precious at your age. I'm
sorry to take up some of them.
CORNELIUS BEAR: I'm
having a toaster waffle,
actually. I've been enjoying
these as an evening treat
lately.
Cornelius having a
cup of hot water
What death
looks like
ME: Are you serious. After all
the chips have been counted,
you like a frozen toaster waffle.
Even though you have probably had côte de boeuf à la
incendiènne done tableside at
a place in Normandy in the
60s.
CB: One wants different things
from food at my age. I've
pleasantly found that my palate
prefers simplicity, the older I
get.
ME: Oh man don't say it.
CB: Indeed. Some mornings, I
don't even take coffee. A mug of
hot water and a cold towel
across the forehead serve as my
liaison to the day.
ME: Man now there is a thing.
You ain't even need food. Your
system is so fine and old that
you just need temperatures.
‚‚‚‚‚‚‚‚‚‚‚‚‚‚‚‚
meZ@w‹Œ†‹@‡•@ •›@
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cbZ@{™•›–}
‚‚‚‚‚‚‚‚‚‚‚‚‚‚‚‚
CB: Well, I don't know if I'd put
it quite like that. I am eating
this waffle, after all. For lunch I
had some penne with spicy
sausage that was quite nice.
ME: This is a question. After
you eat a pretty hot bowl of
soup, do you sweat so much that
you have to change clothes?
CB: No. Soup affects me very
little, if at all. It rarely involves a
change in wardrobe.
ME: Dang then that must be my
problem. I always get that Won
Ton Soup In Deluxe Fashion
from Favorite Wok, you know,
for three people, 'cause that's
the smallest size they offer. I
eat the whole thing up then,
'cause ain't nothin' worse than a
day-old won ton. But then I'm
like two hundred degrees on the
inside, and the yoke of my duds
is sweated across like a jogger.
CB: That could perhaps cause
some organ damage. If you
cook, you will see how readily
organ meats respond to heat. I
have to imagine it's much the
same inside of one's self.
ME: Man so I am cooking my
own guts with food that can't be
right. That is like backwards
divided by two.
CB: Well, it's not likely to be a
problem, I just want to indicate
that one can off-set one's
internal temperatures through
volume eating.
ME: Oh man you completely
got me in a chunder and that is
not even a word from America,
it is a word from Australia.
CB: Chunder...do you mean
that you need to vomit? I
believe the origin of the word is
nautical, and was employed by
the sea-sick who wished to
warn those on lower decks to
"watch out down under!" At any
rate, I don't mean to make you
so nervous that you vomit. The
body is remarkable about
seeking equilibrium, so you
needn't worry unnecessarily.
Perhaps let the soup rest for ten
minutes before eating it, next
time. You may actually taste
the flavors more deeply.
ME: Oh man you can't get me
around some hot fresh won
ton soup from Favorite Wok
and not have me just plowin'
in there with like crazy
pinwheels for eyes and spoons
in both hands.
CB: Very well, then. What else
would you like to ask me?
ME: Which do you think is the
healthiest Chinese dish?
‚‚‚‚‚‚‚‚‚‚‚‚‚‚‚‚
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‚‚‚‚‚‚‚‚‚‚‚‚‚‚‚‚
CB: Hm. I think you're on the
right track with soups. The
broths are restorative and
relative to stir-fries they lack
oil. I would suggest vegetable
dishes, also. Most Chinese
restaurants offer a variant,
usually called "Vegetables
Delight" or some such
encouraging descriptor.
ME: Oh dogg you got me eatin'
cold soup and carrots now
man this is what happens
when you talk to an old guy
about food advice. Next thing
you know I will be watering
my front lawn in black socks
and boxer shorts only.
CB: [chuckles] Yes, well. You
did ask. Vegetables are
perfectly delicious -- their only
apparent shortcoming is that
they are not flashily-marketed
hamburgers. Do you follow the
Jacques Pépin cooking series
that's airing on PBS right now?
‚‚‚‚‚‚‚‚‚‚‚‚‚‚‚‚
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ME: Ain't he that old French
dude who cooks in boxer
shorts and black socks only,
with a cigarette danglin' from
his lip, all like just one shrimp
in a dirty old pan with a stick
of butter?
CB: Jacques is seventy years
old, not that many years
beyond me, and I have seen
his style of cooking evolve the
way my own tastes have. He
began as a great French
classicist, but now his dishes
are subtle, simple, and highly
understated. Certainly, in my
youth, I wouldn't dream of
ordering anything but the
reddest cut of meat and
potatoes drowned in cream,
but these days I can appreciate
a dish of nothing more than
chopped tomato with salt,
parsley, and good olive oil.
ME: Oh wow you just
described a dinner that I
would react to like, "the chef
forgot to put the dinner on top
of these big salsa pieces! Dad
blammit! No cash for THIS
guy!"
CB: You'll see, you'll see.
ME: Okay, yeah, I know. I
probably will. Meanwhile...uh,
let me check my notes...[holds
up both hands, wiggles fingers,
proves that there are no notes
hidden anywhere]...you have
said in the past that you were
married. Can I ask about that.
my name, she was Iris Gambol
Bear. I thought it was a poetic
enough name originally, and
that the addition of my own
surname Bear made it a bit
silly, but these were the fifties
and that's how things worked. I
saw her as she sat reading on a
bench in a park in upstate New
York. It was a lovely fall day,
and I'm glad I acted on the
feeling I had for her, because
now I know that sort of thing
only comes along once in a life.
Rather, one can only feel that
‚‚‚‚‚‚‚‚‚‚‚‚‚‚‚‚
‚‚‚‚‚‚‚‚‚‚‚‚‚‚‚‚
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•˜@š‹ˆ @’•™ˆ@š‹ˆŒ˜@
Š„“ˆN
‚‚‚‚‚‚‚‚‚‚‚‚‚‚‚‚
CB: Certainly.
ME: I...I mean, I guess I just
did.
CB: Marriages are complicated
things. Perhaps ask about a
specific aspect.
ME: Okay, I guess a reporter
would first ask Who.
CB: Her name was Iris
Gambol, and when she took
Won Ton soup. I ain't mess around with
Sweet Corn and Chicken or Dragon &
Phoenix. Sizzling Rice in a pinch, but almost
never. (EEH)
‚‚‚‚‚‚‚‚‚‚‚‚‚‚‚‚
way once, I believe. It's not
unlike having the wind
knocked out of you, when you
see the face you're meant to
love. I think you need to have
had that feeling at the
foundation of it all—that
visceral,
undeniable
instinct—to make it work even
when the going gets hard.
Anyhow, there she sat reading,
and after I'd collected my
breath—all this happened in
the span of no more than two
seconds, mind you—I simply
walked over to her, held out my
hand, and she smiled as she took
it. I was not myself at that
moment. I had the great clarity,
charm, and confidence of a man
who has had two glasses of
Scotch. I saw that the book she
read was The Catcher In The Rye,
which was still fairly new at that
time, and which I'd finished just
that morning in bed, so it was the
centerpiece of our conversation,
through which we ducked and
darted and punched a few
interesting holes in the shape of
our own animated silhouettes.
For two total strangers, our
conversation was daring and
bold. I loved her from the
moment I saw her, but when I
heard her voice, with its easy wit
and charm, I knew inside of one
minute that my life was a new
thing. The rings and showers and
drunken uncles were but
foregone conclusions. That night
at my apartment we roasted a
buttered chicken without any side
dishes at all, and washed it down
with a cheap bottle of Bulgarian
red that she ran out and bought
at a gas station. Somewhere
around the thigh meat we
realized we'd never even learned
each others' names. I agreed to
call her Lady X and she dubbed
me the "The Curious Hallfield
Park Incident." We danced to
Patti Page and blew our cigarette
smoke out the window. I...I'm
sorry. Are you still there?
ME: Wow. Dang. On my first date
with Molly, it went a lot like that.
I mean, I roasted a bird with no
side dishes, and she brought the
wine.
CB: Seems a fair enough sign.
Cherish one another while you
can. Over time, it is all too easy
to come to treat a spouse like
just another piece of furniture.
ME: We ain't married, though.
‚‚‚‚‚‚‚‚‚‚‚‚‚‚‚‚
meZ@t‹Œ™@•”ˆ@–’„†ˆ@
Œ”@š•ž”L@š‹ˆ @–›š@„@
™“„’’@™‹˜Œ“–@Œ”@
ˆ„†‹@ž•”@š•”N@y•›G‡@
š‹Œ”‘@iG‡@’Œ‘ˆ@š‹„šL@
…›š@i@‡•”GšN@iš@™ˆˆ“™@
”„™š @š•@“ˆN@i@
„’“•™š@”ˆœˆ˜@’Œ‘ˆ@
š‹ˆ@™‹˜Œ“–@„š@š‹ˆ™ˆ@
–’„†ˆ™N
‚‚‚‚‚‚‚‚‚‚‚‚‚‚‚‚
CB: People your age are
terrible about commitment.
I'm not sure what it is. You
really are a generation of
turkeys.
ME: Maybe you all got married
too early 'cause you couldn't
roll in the hay until God had
been invited to watch. Which
brings me to God's hobbies—
CB: You operate with a
remarkably chaste revisionism.
Do you suppose that your
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elders, in their youth, didn't have
as much or more fun than you
currently have, regardless of
marital status? Where do you
think you "get it from," precisely?
stone funk
record label
of the year
ME: I mean like what I see is that
old people are known to enjoy
church over raves. That's only one
thing I know, though.
CB: Just because drug dealers
weren't doing perverse things with
drain cleaner and the periodic
table of the elements doesn't
mean that we weren't living souls
who enjoyed kicking our heels up
come nightfall.
ME: Well yeah I mean I guess we
get it from somewhere.
CB: Oh, drat. I've been boiling
eggs, and the timer's just gone off.
Can you excuse me for a moment?
ME: I ain't one of those dudes
who holds on a phone for six
minutes while the other party
peels eggs, that is way old school.
But I am also grateful to you for
your time. I think we can put
down the pieces here.
CB: It has been a pleasure. Thank
you for asking after my story. I'll
be pleased to see the printed
version.
ME: Dogg you got all the classy
lines. Sadly, I don't. Stay sweet,
John
Holmes'
Helmet-Size
Jockstrap. [hangs up] FIN.
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CHAPTER THREE
We now know that Jesus Christ was
married to Mary Magdalene. But
was it going well?
When last we saw Jesus
and Mary Magdalene, they
had just taken their seats in
Jochebed's couples'
therapy tent.
----------------------------------------
Jesus sat uncomfortably, wondering if
he'd just said the one wrong thing
that would cause the therapist to
crumble his papyrus in a wad, toss his
pen behind him, and blurt, "Divorce.
You two. Now." He hated the idea of
signing a bunch of forms. He'd had to
sign thirty-five different places just to
get married; how many to undo the
marriage? At least twice that, in all
likelihood. The government of
Jerusalem didn't look kindly on
divorce, and would no doubt require
such a prohibitive number of
signatures that the average guy would
just give in and stay married.
Jochebed put his fingertips to a
point and pressed them to his lips.
He seemed to think for a great while.
Jesus refused to look at Mary-was
afraid to. He wondered if, after this
bombshell, she wouldn't hire Ezerel,
the town forger, to sign his name to
the forms without his knowledge,
and go live with her mother, never to
be seen again. The idea was escapist,
and he felt guilty.
"That's very interesting, Jesus,"
said Jochebed, re-crossing his legs.
"Mary, what do you think could be
improved?"
She paused, which surprised him,
because in recent months she'd flown
into a verbal tirade at his slightest
offense. He felt he'd endured so much
endless scorn that at times he
imagined himself trapped inside a
boiling undersea forest of thrashing
octopus tentacles.
She began slowly, carefully.
"I feel like I'm not there, in his
eyes. I might as well be a chair or
lantern. No—a lantern takes
maintenance. I might as well be a
chair."
Jochebed this time merely pressed
his index finger against his nostril
and closed his eyes thoughtfully.
Many seconds passed, and Jesus
suspected that this was simply to
give him time to reflect on his wife's
words. Jochebed, for all he knew,
was dreaming of grilled beef and
peppers on lavash. He found himself
resentful, and decided not to speak
first.
Mary, unwilling to weaken her
point with extra talk, set her teeth
and waited.
Jochebed, growing concerned that
his time-honored "pause" technique
wasn't working, sniffed. He had
often found that the slightest noise
would provoke a nervous response
from someone in the room. Not
these two.
The sniff hung in the air and
ripened like a lie. Jesus and Mary,
intelligent and anxious, saw through
the tactic immediately, and in the
following
seconds,
they
strengthened their independent
resolve to make him earn his money.
No man should be paid to sniff his
nose, they would have concluded,
had they been speaking together
privately.
Jochebed, now tense, addressed
Jesus.
"You don't remember why you're
together," he summarized. "She feels
neglected. Why is that?"
Jesus felt irked that someone was
making money simply by listening to
two sentences and then saying the
sentences back to the people who said
them. People didn't pay canyons, and
canyons echoed.
"Why does she feel neglected?"
Jesus began. "Probably because we
don't spend much time together. I'm
busy with my friends a lot, and I've
been working to make extra money."
This brought Mary out. "Cards!
You, selling cards in Kazzar's Card
Baazar! Who ever heard of anything
stupider than cards! I can't believe
you." She looked at Jochebed. "You
know what you do when you want to
wish someone a happy birthday? You
stop by their house and talk to them.
He thinks that a piece of paper saying
Happy Birthday, delivered by
messenger, is going to catch on!" She
turned to Jesus. "Either Kazzar has
you duped, or you're just working at
that stupid place to avoid me!"
Jesus knew it was the latter, but he
did at least derive some pleasure from
the fine scented papers in the shop.
Kazzar also told a great joke about a
Roman who returned home after a
long battle in Mycenae, only to find
his wife screwing a road-maker. The
guy could do a Roman better than
anyone, and it always cracked him up.
Chapter Four of The Braebicus Dict
appears in the next issue of this
publication.
Answers from
Questions by Ed E.
Haskell
Ray Smuckles
You know, now that you mention it, I ain't think I ever seen one 'a those suckers
in person! Daaamn! I mean, I can remember some big Christmas party down at
the University Club, a black-tie thing put on by Mayor C and the Fire
Department, but I ain't remember a harp! I think at one point I heard that a
harpist was playin' in a smaller side-chamber, kind of a parlor, but in the main
room they had these dudes cookin' up George Thorogood with a WAILIN'
saxophone player and you can bet your money I busted my hams to those tunes
for the better part 'a the night. I had chicks in front, chicks behind, just a
quicksand pit of chicks in black and red satin, my tie all undone, shirt open at
the collar, WHO...DO...YOU LOVE just mackin' my funk...no, I ain't seen a
harp.
Todd Squirrel
What'sa fricks'a harp? That that thing they play when somebody in cartoons dd-dies? Yeah, I saw a harp in a frikkin' cartoon, so what? A dog croaked or
somethin'. Whadda I gotta care? I'm glad he's dead!
Peter H. "Nice Pete" Cropes
If this question is to assess whether I am from low breeding, then fine, I will
answer it honestly, because people of low blood can still have their integrity in
place. But in knowing my answer you have aroused my defenses. Yes, I have
seen a harp. It was in the window-display of a fine department store in the big
city, Charleston, where we had gone to see an uncle die in his bed. It was a
terrible trip, full of unbearable quiet stretches and an eventual burial. The harp
served to advertise a lovely dress.
Cornelius Bear
I have seen a harp.
Emeril LeGoinegasque
Well if this does not come at an interesting time because as I type this a fine
man in a tuxedo suit does play the harp on the television. We have upgraded
our apartment's basic cable package and I do believe day and night this channel
is devoted to that calming instrument.... Now this is funny, my memorey tells
me Spongebath did himself upgrade the cable package for this channel in
specific. He is a friendly fellow but at times his waters do run deep and dark and
I believe he does take refuge in the firmament of the gently plucked strings. I
admit I have enjoyed the music around the house as well.
IF YOU HAD
A HIDDEN
BOOKCASE
DOOR WHAT
WOULD YOU
PUT BEHIND
IT?
—E.E.H.
Ray Smuckles
Probably a record player, and when you pulled
out the hidden volume that opened the secret
bookcase door, the needle would drop, and the
album would just play twenty minutes of fuzz
and blitches. A blank album. Your terror would
totally grow. You'd be like, "I should not have
gone into this secret room. When the door
opened, I should have just gone the hell away.
Is there a skeleton?!"
Téodor Orezscu
A room with a big circular bed, and zebra
carpet, and mirrored ceiling, and a switch,
where if you flipped the switch the bed would
start to pop, because it was a giant Jiffy-Pop
package, and you could hop in there with a
lady-friend just like in Real Genius. And the
phone by the bedside would be Bang &
Olufsen, maybe a red matte plastic with a gray
base. The music? Yeah, you guessed it. The
Sixteen Candles soundtrack. [Téodor's answer
was written by Ed E. Haskell, Téodor was never
called.]
[Nobody N/A]
[I was mainly interested in Ray's answer to this,
which turned out to have less sluts than I
expected. Therefore I made up Téodor's answer
and then killed the piece here. -EEH]
Talkin’ ‘bout The Curse of the Sea-Bitch
The Curse of the Sea-Bitch returns in our next issue!
These things take hella research and I ain't done research
this time around. It takes like Library trips and index
cards and bein' hushed even though you are laughin'
because Tré-Odor wrote a word down and he won't show
you what it is until a seven year-old kid walks by in a
backpack and Tré-Odor holds up the paper and it says
DOUCHEBAG.
The responsible reader will appreciate my unwillingness
to make up this year's hottest nautical fiction.
What is Your Opinion on
the Chinese?
EXCLUSIVE TO MAN WHY YOU EVEN GOT TO DO A THING
Ray Smuckles
The Chinese? They're Chinese. Is this
racist? I ain't down, dude. I ain't known
you to be like this.
Charley "Little Nephew"
Smuckles
Chinese be hella confusin', G-note. All
like one way and nice in regular society,
but then they got a special Chinese
society, of Chinese people, all knowin'
each other and maybe even givin' each
other loans at no interest. I just think
they help each other out, is all. I ain't
sayin' nothin'.
Téodor Orezscu
The Chinese have a different idea about
what personal space means. This is not
inflammatory. All I'm saying is, I've
noticed that in lines or crowded areas,
they don't mind bumping into you. This
may be the norm in China. I've seen
pictures where it's crowded. I don't really
like talking about this. I feel like
anything I say can be dug up and work
against me in a court case. Call me when
you get to the next article idea, dude.
Miss Lady
Are they the ones that can't get the whole
Internet? Because I feel that way. I need
to change from AOL and get something
better than this old gray PowerBook. I'm
so mainland. I'm so Guangdong.
TODD T. SQUIRREL
Screw 'em! I got enough problems!
Peter H. "Nice Pete" Cropes
You are calling me again, this time about
Chinese people. I feel you are trying to
get at something, maybe regarding my
upbringing. Maybe trying to make me say
something off-guard. I will only say that
Chinese people all have black hair and
glasses. That is all I have seen "in
innocence," it is what I have observed
from cars and public lines. I am very
curious about why you called me once
again, Roast Beef. I need to start looking
into you, maybe. Do I need to know what
you think about Chinese?
Ray's Uncle Marion Adonis
Culpepper
Roast Beef! Well, I do declare! I am afraid
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I am caught at asunders by your call...I
was just about to mix up a good cup of
scalded milk and rye before my morning
nap...but no bother. Thank you just ever
so much for givin' me a jangle, it is
always good to hear from my nephew's
friends! I...heh...I remember my trip out
there quite well, don't you know! Ooh, oh,
what was the question? I'm so sorry to
ramble like this. It's almost time for my
forty winks...though I make take the full
Hippocrates' sixty...heh heh...the
Chinese? Oh, goodness. Maybe you
should call back in the afternoon, when I
have a bit more time free. We lost an
uncle in that most grievous and
regrettable Boxer Uprising of 1899, the
great Hercules Lane Culpepper. Oh, my
milk is just about scalded. I really must
go. Please do call me after supper, won't
you. I need to consult my genealogies.
Good-bye. Operator, please end this call.
VLAD
Heh! China. One of last true Communist
countries, if even you can say that,
though. Viet Nam, Cuba, Laos, North
Korea, they do the total deal...and here
we haf good oldt China. Does Communist
need Google? I say very little on subject,
because I am reformink, but maybe in
this way I am like China. I am refusink
to use Google for pleasure these days,
only facts. Is like your Lent. I need to
know when Elvis is born? Is pleasure. I
walk to post office. Then I walk to library,
because the post office takes down poster
of commemorative stamp of Elvis his life.
Elvis is born January 8, 1935 by the way.
Sorry I was late for call. Bus was
rejectink bus pass again. Was mess-up at
home office of bus company. Then there is
huge line at library.
stone funk
record label
of the year
REPRESENTIN'
your
FAVORITE
artists:
Biloxxi
Tah Kan3z
Trik Pype
FLU$H
Nuno Ndaba
Peach Club
Tim King
(Christian)
Got a
new sound?
Contact
Ray Smuckles!
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Chinese Food
Thoughts of Times
From a Young Age
by
EEH
Téodor Orezscu
When we were a kid, I mean when I was
a kid (sorry -- I'm on Beef's computer
using a unix editor, don't have time or
skills to learn how to delete in VI), we
went to a place called Hong Kong. It
was straight American Chinese food:
fried won ton skins with that clear red
sugar dipping sauce, chow mein with
the baby corn in it (the tiny cobs were
prized but never adequately explained),
and chicken dishes with snow peas and
water chestnuts, sauced in a clear
viscous liquid that held well with the
steamed rice. To this day I like basic
Chinese food that probably bears no
resemblance whatsoever to the "crab
pooter in fermented hay water" they're
eating in the mainland.
R. Beef Kazenzakis
(by private wire)
Alright so it was a thing at our house
that we could not have what we wanted.
This being said, we could not have
Chinese food. We could never have it. I
had it a time or two down at Ray's and
it was luscious and all so good. The won
tons had hella silky textures and the
paper cartons of thick-sauced meat were
hella at home on a spoon with the
insanely good dry-style nose-enchanting
rice. Gramma K made horrible wet rice
that she said would "make us proud one
day" but I never knew what that meant.
Once in a while me and Showbiz would
get to clamorin' for some Chinese Food
and she would pour soy sauce onto some
of her wet rice and stir in some frozen
peas and maybe sprinkle some of that
green can parmesan cheese over the
top. There you have it, Chinese Food
Kazenzakis: wet rice, soy sauce, peas,
and parmesan cheese. Ain't no
Chinaman anywhere would turn down a
steamin' hot bowl of that concoction.
Ray Smuckles
I have loved Chinese food since a very
small age. Mom used to take me down
to the old district south of the high
rises, where the real-school joints
dished up some hard-ass Asia on a
plate. You just said "family special" and
the waiter nodded and you never saw a
menu. Total respect. They would bring
an Egg Roll, then Hot and Sour Soup or
Egg Corn Soup (Chef's Decision), and
then the main event: Sweet and Sour
Pork with pineapples and bell pepper
and onion pieces. After that we would
relish on some tea and fortune cookie
and mom would ask about parking
validation.
You know, now that I look back on
this, I think maybe we weren't getting
all that great of stuff. I guess the sands
of time and my own naïveté about the
mysteries of non-pizza or -hamburger
food kind of made me think this stuff
was more legit than it was. Oh well. I
guess, to my credit, that my favorite
memory of the place was not the food,
but the crazy bronze "water wheel"
fountain sculpture they had in the
lobby. You could put a coin into one of
the water wheels and watch as the coin
fell down through all the water wheels
to the bottom, which was very deep and
kind of murky.
Refried Beans and Rice
by
Chris Onstad
I'm not sure how old I was when I
learned that my great-grandmother
Rose died...probably four or five. I
was sitting at our dining room table
in Danville, scooping down a favorite
lunch of refried beans and white rice,
and my mom had been on the phone
for a few minutes. It tells you
something about the mind of a child
that none of the details of the call
registered with me as I mashed rich,
earthy beans onto long-grain rice
and shoved them into my maw. I'm
not even aware of how long she'd
been off the phone when she sat
down next to me and said that greatgrandma Rose had died. It seemed
like a mechanical relay of facts...in
my life I'd only seen Rose a few
times, and didn't feel much affected.
She was a very short person with a
little tight gray afro who had waved
once from a front lawn. I remember
that the front yard from which she
THINGS CHRIS ONSTAD HAS
DONE WRONG IN LIFE
Intentionally fell out of touch with a
friend (age: 31)
Kicked his brother in the nuts and
pretended it was an accident (9)
Threw a dart at a kid he didn't like (7)
Stole a candy bar at age five (5)
waved was not a pleasant place to
play, and that a male neighbor with a
trailer that held two motorcycles was
angry when I looked at the
motorcycles too closely. I remember
being told that I was "done" by a
parent or grandparent, and whisked
inside.
To this day I consider refried beans
and long-grain white rice my
baseline comfort food, even though
my earliest solid memory of them is
rooted in death. Try them with a
little shredded Monterey Jack or
cheddar.
oŽƒŸ@cŠ—‹˜@™Š‹˜@•‹‡…‡@Š‡‘‘@”ˆ@
Ž‹‘‘‡†@”š—@˜ƒš˜ƒ‰‡˜N@
½mwy@s™ƒˆˆ@@@@@@@
Screwed up his dad's nice car because
he was emotional over a lady (17)
Drew a crappy picture and let his
grandma buy him an expensive sketch
pad that he only used two pages of
(10)
Made fun of poor people in front of his
grandfather, who had grown up during
the Depression (13)
TEETH STUFF
CHEERIOS
PAPER PLATES AND
EXTENSION CORDS
STEEL RESERVE
LIQUOR
BASIC WINES
WHAT IS THE SADDEST
THING YOU (I) HAVE SEEN
LATELY by Ed E. Haskell
FRUIT -->
DELI BOAT WITH
NO HUMMUS
MANAGER READING CHART
entrance
Map of chain grocery store, Blip Diddle, CA
Oh dang man this is pretty sad I ain't even sure I should type it. But I was on
this road trip (kind of small) with Ed E's girlfriend Miss Lady down the California
coast and we stopped in some town called like Blip Diddle (?) or something for
the night. We were up to tricks and havin' fun and decided to get some tasty
snacks and maybe like some wine or Mike's Hard Ice malt beverage from the
town's big chain grocery store. I was all The Man and walked over there even
though it was at least 1/5 mile away. She was gonna take a shower and maybe
put on no clothes. I was all about that so I strutted on over.
It was kind of late, maybe 10:53 or so, and as I was walkin' into the store this
kind of fucked up older beach-bum guy with no shave walked out with his
purchase in a bag, maybe it was some bottles, I thought. The alarm went off
but nobody did anything. What really stuck out was that he had some flip-flops
on, and one of his big toes was hangin' way over the worn-out edge and bleedin'
like crazy. Every time he took a step it just set down this big nasty bloody toeprint.
I was kind of aware that there might be toe blood in the store so I kept my
eyes on the ground and wouldn't you know it but the bloody toe dots led to the
alcohol area. They went up the beer aisle, turned about-face near the Steel
Reserve, then went up the wine aisle and did another about-face near the cold
wines. From there they did another about-face and wandered off to the hard
liquor, where all the hard liquor has that anti-theft magnetic cap on it. From
there the path went back out the same door. It was like that Billy from Family
Circus comic that traces his steps, only this time in bloody toe-dots that have a
BAC of about .38 or so and could kill a gnat.
Anyhow I kind of hopscotched around and over the bloody toe path and got
us some six dollar wine (like I said I was being The Man) and then some of that
nice cold fried chicken and stuff (bananas for her in the morning, Krispy Kreme
for me). I also got nicer toilet paper for the motel room 'cause damn a dude
ain't got to summon the nether lesions. And plus Miss Lady probably
appreciated it.
That is my sad story. A half-dead wino stole booze and reminded me of the
Sunday Funnies. As told in two-ply-o-vision.
PLAYLIST: Bee With Band-aid Wings / The Other
Man Bought The Castle / Fried Surface / Green
Eyes and Problems / George You Can't Fix That Car
/ The Richest and the Poorest Wear No Shoes /
Under the Sunken Evening (Noiseless Taco Bell) /
Those People Died Into The Future / Bodie