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February 2008

Have some foie gras, brah.
more like duck throats amirite | Tuesday, 02.05.08
It's my first update of 2008! I've been doing well, internet, hence my lack of blog-worthy ideas. Writing about life is difficult when every day is more perfect than the last. Just yesterday I found a pie just sitting in the middle of the sidewalk. A whole pie just sitting there! Two steps later was a tub of Cool Whip, and then a garbage bag filled with hundred dollar bills. "That," I said after I dropped off the pie and whipped topping at a local food shelter and donated the bag of money to a charity of my choice, "was a perfect day." That was until this morning, when I woke up to discover that I somehow gained the ability to walk through walls. Damned if I know how it happened... all I know is that 2008 is kicking 2007's ass, and it's only February.

I carved the following update on a stone tablet a few weeks ago, and just now found the time to transcribe it. Read it and weep, internet.

A restaurant that doesn't have foie gras on the menu is barely a restaurant. Sure, a hostess may seat you at a table, and a busboy may throw some silverware and tap water at you once you're settled, and you'll probably eat something, but why bother? Yes, we'll have the southwestern chicken crispers to start and then I think we're just going to share a bowl of day old shit. Oh, nothing to drink, thanks. If I wanted to eat shit, I'd stay home and literally eat my own shit for like half the price. Instead, I want the finest in French force-fed delicacy.

Foie gras (pronounced fwah grah [or fooey grass if you're an uncultured dolt]) is France-talk for "the liver of a duck or a goose that has been specially fattened by gavage (force-feeding)." So basically, you take a duck that you're just going to kill anyway, pour snacks down its throat for 20 days and then rip that little fucker's liver out, cook it over low heat and eat it. And it tastes like butter! Rich, liver-y butter. For more information, please see this clip from aging punker chef Anthony Bourdain's Christmas special. He smokes and says "fuck" a lot, therefore, I believe everything he says.



Now, of course animal rights activists do not share the same love of foie gras as myself and Anthony Bourdain. In fact, they HATE it. "Those poor ducks!" they say as they strap another belt of C-4 across their collective chests. "Force-feeding is a CRIME, and I'm going to make it my personal responsibility to blah blah words words SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP." Maybe that's not what they say, but it's what I hear. And here's what I say back to the animal rights activists - "Hey man, why don't you like, chill out or something? I mean... y'know? C'mon." Then we hug. But not too tight. C-4 is not hug resistant.

"John," you say, "foie gras is so last season, but I'm hungry this season. What the fuck I'm gawn eat?" I'm no chef, but if force feeding a goose makes its liver taste like butter, then forcing animals to do other things must yield positive results. And using the word "yield" makes me feel like a scientist, so I'm like this renegade food scientist, hell bent on enslaving humanity through the power of delicious treats. So why don't you guys take a look at the menu, and I'll put your drink orders in. And take your time, but please be aware that our Molten Chocolate Lava cake takes about 35 minutes to prepare, so let me know if... no? OK, I'll be right back with those drinks.

Coeur de Fines Herbes Koala. If I've learned anything from zoo gift shops, it's that koala bears love bamboo, and are so plush and goddamn adorable that I want to drown them in a barrel of fresh rain water. What most people don't know, however, is that a koala's heart takes up 95% of its internal space, which explains why they're always playful and full of hugs. They've got mad love to give. And when served chilled out of a kangaroo pouch, you'll fall in love with the rich, tangy flavor of a koala heart. Our secret? Well, if we told you, it wouldn't be a secret anymore, but here's a hint - we grind up Valentine's Day cards in a blender with a mixture of herbs and inject it directly into the koala's heart. Over and over and over again. Your special someone will say, "Oof, what is this? Herbal koala heart?" as he or she bites into the gooey center... herbs and blood and bits of thick paper oozing out of their mouth. And you can say, "Yes. Yes it is. WILL YOU MARRY ME?"

Nervure Porc de Beurre. "The best way to a man's heart is through his stomach." So say the mothers of overweight women that aren't much to look at, but can cook relatively well. We say, the best way to a man's heart is through the ribs... delicious, succulent babyback pork ribs. When the world says, "There's nothing you can do to make a pig more delicious," we say, "Fuck you" and feed our pigs nothing but butter and half and half. Once the pig's heart explodes from natural causes, we dip those ribs in barbecue sauce, wrap them in bacon and serve them in an adorable miniature slop bucket of flavor. Once you've had a dozen of our butter-fed pig ribs, why would you bother eating ribs from a pig that wasn't force fed butter, half and half and then wrapped in bacon? You're throwing your money away, and we're totally convinced that you're not even the same person anymore. You've changed.

Gorge de Giraffe de Fumée. Make way! Smoked giraffe throat coming through! This delightful appetizer will turn heads and turn frowns into smiles as an army of 20 waiters and waitresses deliver the piping hot giraffe throat to your table. Take a good whiff of the smoky... uh, smoke, rising from throat. Smell familiar? Maybe a little minty? Like a menthol cigarette, right? That's because our giraffes are kept on a strict regiment of 3 packs of Newports a day which gives their throat a refreshingly smooth menthol taste that you're sure to love. We also have a Light Smoked Giraffe Throat (Mûr Gorge de Giraffe de Fumée) for all of you giraffe lovers out there. It's like they're hardly smoking at all. Plus a giraffe can totally live without a throat or neck. They just look silly.

 

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