Category: The Lunch Wire

Three Hits from the Intertubes

Even though I’m mostly Irish, I usually end up hiding out on St. Patrick’s Day. I’m just not a big fan of the kelly green plastic crap, “kiss me I’m Irish” buttons, Irish sports bars, or fake Irish accents.

WFMU has launched its video podcasts with this stunning debut. I hope you donated to the station if you ever listen.


Video Quest from WFMU Episode 1

If they’re blooming everywhere, maybe we should eat jellyfish! Asians specialize in clear or white base foods that don’t taste like much: cellophane noodles, tofu, and rice, so you also have all the great spices, sauces, and pickling techniques. It’s only a matter of time before I order some jellyfish in chinatown though the texture scares me. Full disclosure: I got stung pretty badly by jellyfish as a kid which resulted in my shunning the ocean altogether for a few years. Nobody peed on me.

If the AIG executive bonus scandal has been good for anything, it’s brought what’s been wrong all along with how the Obama administration has handled the bailout / stimulus by putting faces on the corporate welfare recipients. Over at kos, barbinmd has proposed some simple policy guidelines for executives who remain with bailed out institutions: “Executives at a failing company don’t get a bonus. Executives at a failing company don’t get a raise.” Simple answers to simple questions.

All Tomorrow’s Mayonnaise

And what sandwich shall the poor girl eat
For all tomorrow’s mayonnaise
A BLT from who knows where
For all tomorrow’s mayonnaise

And what will she eat and what will she drink
When lunchtime comes around
She’ll turn once more to mustard’s clown
And maybe some diet coke

And what sandwich shall the poor girl eat
For all tomorrow’s mayonnaise
Why crab and tuna of yesterday’s salad
For all tomorrow’s mayonnaise

And what will she do with Thursday’s chips
When Monday comes around
She’ll turn once more to mustard’s clown
And maybe some diet coke

And what sandwich shall the poor girl eat
For all tomorrow’s mayonnaise
For Thursday’s chips is chicken’s clown
And eggs no longer served

A turkey sub, a bacon cheese
With buns and rye, and wheat
Fit for one who hungers still
For all tomorrow’s mayonnaise

Elevator Walls

One day a big rain will come and wash all of the elevator pad nuisance out of every elevator in New York City that doesn’t have people moving in or out. That will be the day. I am already forming the memorial committee. I will post a community bulletin: “Elevator Liberated from Padded Cell Look.” Gotta apply for that stimulus money and I’ll be set.

Playing Ping Pong for the Coach

I learned how to play ping pong on a permanent metal table bolted on a deck in the park behind my house. At night, the sprinkers would leave puddles of water on the table causing the table top to rust and blister. When it got bad enough, a new sheet of metal would be installed with a fresh coat of industrial paint. While the ball didn’t bounce exactly like it does on a wood table (or sound the same), I got good enough at it to where I came in fourth place in the city ping pong tournament. Okay, table tennis, whatever.

The paddles and the net for table provided by a park director who all the kids called “coach.” Coach also provided crayons, construction paper, popsicle sticks, Carroms, chess, checkers, backgammon, playing cards, cribbage, Parcheesi, Trouble, Sorry, basketballs, kickballs, four-square balls, softballs, bats, bases, footballs, flags (tackle football was frowned upon), frisbees, and sometimes donated tennis balls and rackets. I remember the mildewy smell of the coach’s office like Marcel Proust and a lot of the coach’s names: Curt, Pam, Karl, Gary, Jan. My family went to one of their weddings.

When Proposition 9 passed (California) and all of Coach’s salary went kaput, I lost a small piece of faith in humanity.  I couldn’t understand how my city would get rid of all of the city park’s coaches. I felt like my city and state didn’t care about kids. That ping pong table is gone and the city doesn’t even hold ping pong tournaments anymore. You can still be a ping pong champion out of your own pocket, I suppose.

With all of the handwringing over Obama’s stimulus package, get over it. It will be stimulating.

Update: Jay breaks it down in hard numbers.

See also this debunking of the right’s perpetual FDR myths.