This is a test of the ȯggl photography network.
If you put a Cheeto on a big white plate in a formal restaurant and serve it with chopsticks and say something like “It is a cornmeal quenelle, extruded at a high speed, and so the extrusion heats the cornmeal ‘polenta’ and flash-cooks it, trapping air and giving it a crispy texture with a striking lightness. It is then dusted with an ‘umami powder’ glutamate and evaporated-dairy-solids blend.” People would go just nuts for that.
Portlandia - “Dream of the 1890s”
The instrumentation and performance are just perfect in about half a dozen ways.
My God, I love this show.
I own 5 guns. 4 of them are traditional looking hunting rifles and shotguns.
However, one of them is an AR-15, a “military-style assault rifle”, except that it’s been modified so as not to fit the definition of an “assault weapon”, since assault weapons are illegal in California. I bought it…
Pinocchio premiered in New York City on February 7, 1940 at the Center Theatre. After Snow White the expectations were high, and RKO and Disney wanted a sensational reception and opening for the film (as had Snow White at the Carthay Circle). Perhaps inspired by the lovable seven dwarfs (that were not so lovable in their rather frightening costumes at the Carthay Circle premiere), the publicity department hired eleven midgets, clothed them in Pinocchio costumes, and placed them atop the theater marquee on opening day–there to cavort about and lend a bit of atmosphere in preparation for the experience awaiting the audience inside.
At lunchtime, food and a couple of quarts of spirituous liquid refreshment were hoisted up to the tiny troopers. Inspired by the brew, the diminutive denizens began to remove their garments. By three o’clock that afternoon, patrons were startled to see and hear eleven naked midgets loudly belching and busily engaged in a lively crap game atop the marquee. The au naturel legion of Pinocchios steadfastly refused the commands to cover up and climb down. Police were called in and they climbed ladders to reach the merry crew, restored their modesty by clothing them in pillow cases, and hauled them down to street level before a wondering crowd.
Etched deep in the DNA of trendy bars, pretty much by definition, is a compulsion toward newness. In America, circa 2012, this can mean an unpublished phone number, a hidden entrance, ever more varieties of bitters, an illegal on-site distilling operation, mixology equipment that looks like it was boosted from a packaged-foods plant, and, well, a certain skit from Portlandia comes to mind.
Just when I thought I’d seen it all, I recently discovered that Saxon + Parole, a very of-the-moment restaurant and bar in New York City’s East Village, was exploring some truly uncharted territory: a subscription service…
What price would we pay? What behavior would we forgive? If they weren’t pretty, if they weren’t temperamental, if they weren’t beyond our reach and a little out of our control would we love them like we do?
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So maybe that’s why I dislike Portland and Portlandia–they represent a type of person who I fundamentally am not: those with optimism and a passion for their home and the honest belief that what the world needs is more birds on things.
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| — | Katie Herzog, Twenty Twenty Hindsight |
