For mornings such as this, we need to retreat and let our minds experience Morcheeba.  I ease into a nice rhythm of sipping chilled coffee and Internet surfing as this penetrates through to my very happy bone and reminds me to take it slow.

If Morcheeba is not your cup of tee then I know what might do it for you,  Zoe Keating’s new album Into the Trees.  I love her music and the way she can make a cello sound alive and divided.  Each song gives me chills and makes my mind daydream.  She’s amazingly talented.  (picture courtesy of by Kirstie Shanley)

Enjoy and just Chill out.

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It’s a Saturday. The reactor that powers BoL has been idling contemplatively. We’ve attempted engaging backup systems, but as is the want of fail safes, they’ve failed. I’d like to insert a ‘Nuclear Volcano’ reference here but, well, we don’t actually have one. Yet. Most of the money went to the orbital ‘Slightly Uncomfortable’ Ray. And possibly Greek debt. That vague paranoia you feel? Oh yes, that’s us. At least a few of our assets are operational. Rest assured though, as soon as we can procure the services of some well-qualified DARPA rejects, full power will return.

Image from APEDOGS via FFFFound!

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KENTUCKY – I got a friend (I’m as shocked as you, I assure you) who just “rescued” two horses – “Alpo” and “Glue Factory” are their names, I think.  This, I suppose is a fine and humanitarian gesture.  If you’re into that sort of thing.  Her heart is in the right place but I don’t think the horses are, this being the year 2010 of our Lord, Rahm Emanuel.

Don’t get me wrong; when I was five (5) years of age, I was convinced that I would grow up to be a farmer and have a horse farm in the field across the street from my parents’ house.   That part in The Never Ending Story where the horse drowns in a black tar swamp made up of its own depression in a prolonged sequence while his master screeches for it not to die?  Scarred me for life.  No joke.

This site would be all bunnies and talking about how much I love Sarah Palin if I hadn’t seen that shit.  You think I’m going to find a link on Youtube of that scene? You can forget it.  Never happening.  Want nothing to do with it.  I mean… it’s a movie for KIDS, man!  KIDS!  You kill a HORSE?  And you DROWN IT? In BLACK GOO? Are you fucking out of your goddamn MIND?  Have you never met a child in your entire life?!  WHO FUCKING KILLS A HORSE IN A CHILDREN’S MOVIE?!

[ahem]

As I grew older, obviously, I abandoned the dream of having my own equestrian center because:

1) for some reason, when an adult male likes horses, it’s gay (sorry, Roy)

2) seriously, people, fuck horses.

The history of the horse is a long an storied one.  Every general had his mount, every knight a steed, every Mongol his pack horse/snack horse.  Much art has been devoted to them and rightly so: they got us from here to there and back, again.

Silver, Bucephalus, and Mr. Ed (or the knock-off version of Mr. Ed in Hot to Trot), even our legends and mythology are rife with them.

As such, let me pass this on to horses: “Thank you for your dutiful contribution to mankind’s progress, horses.  Never has another species been so useful in another’s advancement.  That said, we’ve got it form here.”

Seriously, horses, what’s the deal? Why are you still here?  You’re like an employee who gets downsized and still comes in to work and hangs around.  It’s getting, well, awkward.

Horses have been supplanted for most of us by cars, obviously, but they are still around in numbers mostly for the benefit of the idle rich.

Never a popular caste, the idle rich, tales of the upper crust’s opulence has served only to salt our gaping, pussy wounds in recent years.  As Etruscan says, “hey, there’s an economy on.”

But, there they are, putting on their tall boots and silly hats and prancing around out in the court yard.  And their horses do some fancy stepping, too.

And if they’re not just making horses walk funny, they’re making them tear-ass after foxes in yet another heap of “culture” involving the subjugation of another creature.  If only these people could work in eating a steak that a falcon brought to them while a parrot sings, “Octopus’s Garden.”

And if they’re not tear-assing around, then they’re watching OTHER people tear-ass around while simply throwing money about GUESSING who tear-asses the best.  In. Genius.  This particular aspect of mankind’s often passive-aggressive relationship with the horse was portrayed best by my personal hero, Dr. Hunter S. Thompson, in his first unknowing stab at what would be dubbed “Gonzo Journalism” in his piece for Scanlan’s Monthly, The Kentucky Derby is Decadent and Depraved (hosted here in its entirety in a show of really unparalleled good-sportsmanship by the homepage for the Kentucky Derby itself).

It is also portrayed in some grace by Jerry Seinfeld.

So,  I guess the final question here is: FUCKING WHY, IDLE RICH?

You know what… don’t bother answering that: just fucking stop it already.  Just stop.  There is NO reason that ANYONE in The Western World, outside of perhaps a zoo or historical reenactment site should have a horse.  There is absolutely no point and no reason for it.  It’s a tremendous waste of resources (and anyone who says the raising cattle for meat is wasteful and harmful has got to agree with me here – we don’t even get to eat them here), the horses can’t possibly like it, and you know what, it’s just fucking pretentious. STOP IT.

And that’s not all.  I know some people think horses look magnificent and graceful or even *shudder* sexy, but I’ll say it right here:  horses look RIDICULOUS.

I mean, look at this thing:

Long, spindly legs attached to a massive, heavy torso.  Running around, essentially, on one tippy-toe.  Big, long, goofy looking head with huge, wobbly eyes and nostrils that you could fist, should the urge hit you (though, again, seriously – not THAT kind of “fuck horses,” man).  And that tail. What is going on THERE?   Your entire body is short hair, save the mane (the faux hawk of the animal world, am I right?) and then you’ve got three feet of hair… sticking out of your ass?

“Oh, it’s for swatting flies.”

On your face?

“No, we have to sort of stand head to rear with another horse and then swat around.”

So, you have to stand next to ANOTHER horse for your bizarre, shit-encrusted, probably-the-reason-you-are-attracting-flies-in-the-first-place tail to work as a flyswatter?

“Yes!”

…fuck you, talking horse.

“Well, I don’t think that was called for at all.”

And big! These fuckers are HUGE! Clydesdales can weigh 2000 pounds – ONE GODDAMN TON.  How tall? Who fucking knows; they’re measured in HANDS.  HANDS?  What kind of backwater inbred unit of measurement is HANDS?  And you know what, horses?  Have you not figured out that miniaturization is the way of the future? Everything is getting smaller and you are still one of the largest animals in North America why don’t you…

Oh, well, played, horses.  Very sassy.

So horses are now essentially useless (save to be the playthings of the idle rich) and look dumb (unless you came to this site for… other reasons).  That qualifies them to be vice president, but that’s about it.

The other thing it qualifies them to be is DELICIOUS.

How do I know?

BECAUSE I’VE EATEN HORSE.

Raw with soy sauce and ginger in Japan.

And I am here to tell you that horse meat boasts a tenderness that can only come from the fervent  prayers of every eight-year old girl in America – really a richness that can only be attributed to the meat being absolutely permeated with thousands on thousands of broken dreams and marbleized perfectly with unfulfilled wishes.

Not to be missed if the opportunity presents itself.

And seeing as there is NO reason as far as I can see for horses to exist in the 21st century, I figure every horse walking is fair game.

Bon apitite.

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Bloody hell.

I must admit I’m growing rather more impressed with Hulu than I’d initially anticipated being (which was pretty impressed, actually). Not only are they adding new anime offerings on a near-daily basis (not always great ones, mind you, but they do have 24 episodes of Gankutsuou, so I’m obliged to let them miss occasionally) but in a restless link crawl yesterday I discovered they’re also hosting the entire 1954 animated adaptation of Orwell’s classic Animal Farm!

The book is required reading nearly everywhere, but I haven’t encountered many people who’ve seen (or known) about the animated movie. WATCH IT! WATCH IT NOW!! WATCH IT BEFORE THEY BLOODY TAKE IT DOWN!!!

Though the animated version ends somewhat differently than the novel, I suppose it’s warranted.

That is why they call it revolution after all.

That is all.

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BEHOLD: MY FRIED PICKLE COMPENDIUM!

Hopefully, at some point, I will have a nice LINKS sidebar-style page ready where I will report on the fried pickles that I have been fortunate enough to sample of this, the very finest of epochs.

I didn’t even know that fried pickles -a tantalizing treat that combines two of my favorite things, pickling and frying anything I can lay hand to- even existed until I was in my goddamn 20’s.  Can you believe that?  What sort of rock was I living under?  Well, I’m not about to let the same thing happen to you, dear reader. No way, no how!  As such, as I gradually (and I do mean gradually) locate and sample the fried fare of establishments, I will give you a little of the who, what, where, when, why, how and also a final verdict with my own personal, sassy rating system of up to five (5) pickles. Where do I come up with this stuff, eh?

This time around I will be reviewing:  Binga’s Wingas (a.k.a. Binga’s Stadium Smokehouse & Sports Bar)’s Fried Pickle Chips

Location: 907 Route 1, Yarmouth, ME
Hours: MONDAY: CLOSED, TUESDAY-SATURDAY: 11 AM TO 11 PM, SUNDAY: NOON – 8 PM
Phone: (207) 846-8736

Location: 77 Free Street, Portland, ME
Hours: MONDAY-SUNDAY: 11 AM TO LATE
Phone: (207) 347-6072
Web: www.bingaswingas.com

Price: $3.99
Portion: Generous
Style: Battered Chips

Sauces attendant: Binga’s specialty made “Blanch Sauce,” combination ranch and Bleu Cheese (yes, I’ve cracked that code).

Notes: When our party ordered at Binga’s Portland location, we assumed that a side of Fried Pickle Chips would mean maybe a fistful or two so we ordered two sides to insure that there would be enough for me… and the rest of the table.  We needn’t have bothered as two HEAPING baskets arrived along with our four orders of half-a-dozen wings (guess what I had for lunch the next day… you are right).
These pickles were fried in a fun, slightly grainy, flaky batter. However, the end result was extremely salty.

I’m not sure if the salt was part of the batter or put on after frying, but combined with the a pickle’s natural saliency, the saltiness almost made the dish unpalatable on its own.  Thankfully, Binga’s is also a good source for beers by the pitcher which helped to balance this out in a similar fashion to beer and salted nuts or pretzels.  The sauce, which was designed to be used with Binga’s namesake wing(a)s, didn’t really seem to go with it, but it did help to cut the saltiness somewhat.

Rating: 2.5 out of 5 pickles

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Sometimes the ‘tubes return the most intriguing items. Tonight’s strange and wonderful little treat comes by way of a few hours of random Google searches and link crawling, but having never encountered this before, I have to say it was worth it. A little something for everyone here, I should think.

Ani Kuri 15;  a brief series that aired on the Japanese public broadcasting network some time ago, features fifteen one minute shorts from some serious heavy hitters whose work we’ve featured here before. There’s entries from Satoshi  Kon , Mamoru Oshii, Shinji Kimura and the like, and it’s really interesting to see what happens when you give these world famous creators 60 seconds and no limitations or direction.

A huge variety of styles and approaches here, and the material ranges from whimsical to inexplicable. It’s like all my favorite US short animation collections, only so much better.

And yes Cash, it’s safe for your park rats. They may, at least, appreciate the cat thing.

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