This is the same kind of Caesar Salad you’d pay $12 for a French guy to bring you.
Ingredients:
2 eggs that lived a good life, walking freely on the farm and free of persecution. Or, eggs that went to a high school the Mayor reserved for eggs that were different.
1/3 cup olive oil. Extra-virgin preferred, or at least something that hasn’t been used like a Hilton.
2 cloves garlic, adored and pressed through a little garlic press with vim and vigor.
4 anchovies, tormented and cleverly minced into tiny pieces which is what “minced” means in the first place.
1 tablespoon + 2 teaspoons lemon juice, revered.
1 tablespoon Dijon Mustard, slightly angered.
1 teaspoon Worcestershire Sauce, persecuted.
1/4 teaspoon salt, 1/8 teaspoon pepa, pushed good, pushed real good.
Directions:
1. Berate the eggs in a room with bad acoustics.
2. Boil them in water for 45 seconds so the yolks get a little firm, like a dad who was in the Marine Corps.
3. Separate the yolks from the whites, a form of egg apartheid. Get rid of the whites, like Robert Mugabe of Zimbabwe.
4. Mix the yolks, lemon juice, Worcestershire, garlic, mustard, anchovies, salt & pepper. Whisk like you were going to be in big trouble for not whisking. Whisk like the wind. Whisk your moneymaker.
5. Add the oil slowly and whisk even more, never stopping to wonder why. Take no prisoners. If anyone every doubted you could whisk, this is your chance to prove them wrong.
6. Convene a secret council with extrajudicial powers to determine if more salt & pepper are warranted.
7. The dressing lasts for a day if it’s in an airtight container or up to 8 months if stored in a small underground hole.
8. Add dressing to chilled Romaine lettuce which has been torn into bite-size pieces. Tear the lettuce rather than cut it. Cutting lettuce bruises it emotionally and otherwise.
9. Decorate with slivers of Parmesan cheese distributed by an illegal immigrant.
10. Nominate your favorite toasted, seasoned bread cubes for the position of Croutons. Prepare for a filibuster led by Senate Minority Leader Tom Daschle (D-SD).
11. Charge $12 for it. $14 if you’re a Boulud. If you’re a Bourdain, write a book about your experience making the salad. Enjoy.
Serves 4-6 regular folks or 1 morbidly obese, selfish bastard.
Satire
Helpful Tips For Actors
Make sure to criticize the writing of the commercial. Even better if someone associated with the advertising agency or client is present. This lets them know that you’re a serious, intelligent actor who knows a bad commercial when they see it. Pass your feelings on to fellow actors and the casting director as much as possible.
If the casting director takes a Polaroid of you, make sure to ask if you can see it. Keep asking until they show you, then make sure it’s the most exquisite Polaroid photo of you ever. If not, ask if they can take another one. Keep repeating this until you have the best Polaroid shot in history to staple to your information card.
Don’t bother to read the ‘additional’ information tacked on to the script. The paragraph explaining what the director is looking for could be too confusing for you to have to deal with. It’s much better to go into the audition unprepared and ask the casting director what exactly it was they wanted you to read.
When you don’t quite get a script, tell everyone in the room. Keep saying ‘I don’t get this!’ or ‘What the hell is this about?’ until people are well aware that you don’t get the script.
An audition is a good time to let people know of your political beliefs. Since 100% of people must feel the same way you do, make sure to launch high-decibel vocal attacks on the President, holidays, Iraq, religion, Republicans, tax cuts, Medicare and Fox News.
Feel free to change the script any way you see fit. Add your own spin on to what the ad agency’s writer was trying to say. Writers love when actors add unsolicited ad libs. If you have a scene partner, try improvising and surprise them with a new line that’s not on the script. See what kind of face your partner makes. Usually it’s a funny ‘confused’ face.
If the casting director mispronounces the name of the product, make sure to point the correct pronunciation out to them in front of the other actors so everyone knows how smart you are.
If you’re been at the audition for more than six minutes: time to start huffing and puffing.
Remember: There is no such thing as subtle. If the casting director asks for a ‘subtle’ glance, they probably mean you should look off camera with an expression that would indicate Michael Jackson being gang-sodomized by vengeful parents.
If you have a bad audition, blame your scene partner. If you didn’t have a scene partner, blame the casting director for making you nervous. If that doesn’t work, blame the script. If you’re still not convinced, remember it was a crappy commercial and you didn’t want it anyway.
When the casting director compliments your performance, make sure and question their judgment by saying, ‘Really? Are you sure?’ That way they know you think you could have done better.
When walking back into the lobby after an audition, tell all the other actors ‘You can all go home now, ha ha.’ They have never heard this before.
If you are running late, make sure it becomes something for everyone else to deal with. Let the other actors know that you are late and have something important to get to. They most likely don’t and will happily spend more time there to accommodate you.
If you make a mistake when 98% through the audition simply stop, look at the camera and say, ‘I’m sorry, can we do that again?’
The time before an audition is a great time to reminisce with friends and acquaintances you run into in the hallway. Folks who don’t want to bother concentrating on the script or preparing for the audition would much rather hear you and the girl from some play you did four years ago talk about the play you did four years ago and what happened to Brad from the play you did four years ago. Make sure the conversation is loud enough that the casting director in the other room gets brought in on the action so they remember you.
If you are reading with a partner, deliver your lines in the most stilted, unnatural way possible. This will cause your partner to try desperately to make up the imbalance of talent, resulting in a better audition for you with minimal effort on your part.
Most acting coaches will tell you that you should leave a ‘signature moment’ on your videotaped audition. For most actors this means saying your name loudly with a smarmy grin. Be different. Say your name loudly with a smarmy grin and point at the camera like the bartender Isaac from Love Boat.
When told to appear in ‘business attire’ for an American Express commercial, it’s okay to show up in t-shirts and shorts because some businesses are probably run that way.
You want the casting director to remember you, so get in a catfight with them. They’ll remember you.
Non-Celebrity Sightings
Guy who kind of looked like Angela Lansbury at the Union Square Starbucks. He ordered a medium mocha. 8:32am.
Guy that could possibly pass for the short fella from Princess Bride who kept yelling ‘it’s inconceivable!’ and eventually drank poison – leafing through a copy of The Five People You Meet In Heaven at the 5th & 21st Barnes & Noble. 9:08am.
Larry Davidish looking guy sauntered by Loehmann’s on 7th around 11:30 am. Had a blue scarf.
Lenny Kravitz wannabe smoking outside Murray’s Cheese Shop on Bleecker. 12:52 pm. Had a nametag so he must work in the area. Maybe on break from a deli.
Lady distributing flyers near Park and 26th looked kind of like Rhea Perlman from Cheers if Perlman were much bigger and Hispanic. 2ish pm.
Clerk at magazine kiosk near 23rd looks like he could be a popular Pakistani movie star. 3:23pm.
Man best described as Danny Gloveresque but dirty, asking for money, 23rd and 7th. 3:30pm. He was with a guy who looked like he could be a famous character actor if he too wasn’t asking for money.
Dead ringer for Napoleon if Napoleon were alive, gay and walking in Chelsea. 8th and 19th, 4:49pm.
Memo Re: “The Reagans”
Selected items from the Moonves Memo regarding the reasons behind CBS cancelling “The Reagans”:
‘Kill ’em all and let God sort ’em out!’ is not a Reagan quote. And he did not deliver it while torching a forest with Secretary of the Interior James Watt.
There is nothing in the historical record to support the plot line that President Reagan had a hand in the death of Elvis.
Your assertion that ‘a friend of a friend’ told you Ronald and Nancy ‘partied with’ Dr. Mengele is not strong enough to support the 26 minute montage.
The scene where he cuts off the head of an elderly man who did not bow low enough was completely stolen from James Clavell’s ‘Shogun.’
The premise that Nancy slept in the White House Belfry while hanging upside down from the rafters is defeated by the fact that there was no White House Belfry.
He was elected in a landslide, not by a ‘Shadow Council of She-Demons.’
Despite extensive re-editing, the scene where the President eagerly devours an entire ward of newborns still seems unbalanced.
After several hours looking over actual Oval Office transcripts, we have found not one instance where the President called Caspar Weinberger ‘honeylove.’
Even if the allegations that he slept with Margaret Thatcher were true, they most certainly did not meet at Studio 54 on ‘White Pride Night.’
Though you call it a ‘sub-sub-plot’, you’re suggesting the JFK assassination triggerman was Nancy.
Every scene ends with the President laughing as the image freezes, changes to black and white, and slowly dissolves into images of Panzer tanks rolling across the fields of Poland.
Possible Closing Lines for a Defendant Who Has Chosen to Represent Himself
“My client professes his innocence. And when I look in the mirror and
see his eyes, I just have to believe him.”
“The facts, which I will present to you, will show that the defendant
is not guilty. My client was nowhere near the scene of the crime. My
client was where I was, obviously, because he is me, and I’m definitely
aware of our whereabouts that night.”
“Truth be told, no one knows what really happened that night. Except me
and my client.”
“I have been accused of a terrible crime. This frightens me both as a
defendant and a lawyer. I don?t want to go to jail, and I’d hate to
lose my first case.”
“When all is said and done, you will have to take all the evidence and
go into the room back there, talk about it, and decide amongst
yourselves on a verdict and whatnot. Right?”
“I want you to take a good, hard look at my client. I want you to ask
yourself if he could be capable of such a heinous crime. But I don’t
want you to take that long, hard look just yet because it will distract
me and I’m not finished talking.”
My first piece published by McSweeney’s
Eulogy For Charles
Hello ladies and gentlemen. Thanks for coming today.
I wasn’t a close friend of Charles. He didn’t have many close friends, I think. But fortunately this church wasn’t too far from where I live so I agreed to come and speak about him. To tell you about the Charles I kind of knew. To say a few words before we commit Charles to the earth. Ashes to ashes and dust to dust and all that. I must say, I’m surprised the church let him in considering his habit of taking money from the donation basket rather than putting money in it. [Pause for laughter] I’m serious.
Charles was a unique man for many reasons. He held more jobs than anyone I’d ever known. Partly because of his spirit of adventure. His unending desire to learn. And partly because he had a problem with authority and would eventually tell his superiors to go to Hell. It seemed like every time I ran into Charles he would be telling me of a new job he had. He would be full of excitement about it. He’d tell me how he would be climbing the ladder to the top of his new company in no time. He was like a child, full of energy, ready to prove himself. Then I’d run into him a week later and he’d tell me how his former boss was a son of a bitch and that now he was in sales for an exciting new magazine. He’d then try and sell me ad space even though I didn’t have a business to advertise. To Charles, life was a constant adventure.
Charlie lived life to the fullest. Nothing got in his way. When he set his sights on something, he went for it full throttle with blinders on. It didn’t matter if his goal seemed overwhelming. Or that he was married. Or that his targets were often married themselves, or completely unattainable. When he told me he was going to marry supermodel Heidi Klum, I told him two things. One, he was married with kids. And two, she was a supermodel. She probably had guards, or at the very least a pistol of some sort. Maybe a Taser. And he probably wasn’t her type, seeing as he was very hirsute and had a pot belly. And she was dating a billionaire as far as I remembered. Some Italian guy.
But he would not be swayed. He knew she lived in New York, so he up and moved his family there. Pulled the kids out of school. Made his wife quit her job. He doggedly pursued Heidi. Relentless, really. He found out her favorite haunts and would spend his evenings waiting for her there. He found out where she lived and would walk his dog up and down the street in front of her place. He even managed to get a Restraining Order put on him. That was an achievement, he would tell me. That meant she cared. He was on her radar. When he told me about that, his eyes lit up like I’d never seen. And it wasn’t the crystal meth, because I know what he looked like when on that stuff. This was the look of genuine happiness. This was the look of someone convinced they had possibly arrived.
Charles had a great sense of humor. He always had a joke handy. In fact, he had a repertoire of jokes memorized. Jokes about black people, Jews, retarded children ‘ he could bring forth any of them and tell it like it had never been told before. Even though they had been told before, in the same order, it always seemed like they were being told for the first time. That’s how good he was. After several beers, the guys at the Masonic Lodge loved to hand Charles a microphone and let him roll. Charles loved to entertain, to see people having a good laugh. For Charles, minorities were not minor in any sense. They were major material.
Charles was a good husband and father. In the sense that he never harmed his wife. Never abused the children. Indeed, even if he wanted to he wouldn’t have been able to. Barbara is a big woman. She could handle her own. Charlie would have been a fool to take her on. And his kids were seldom home. Like their dad, they had their own dreams. Their own separate lives. Kammy, 16, had started a family of her own. And Charlie Junior, or CJ as folks call him, liked to socialize outside the Kripsy Kreme on Oak Street.
To be honest, Charlie hadn’t seen much of his family since they moved to New York. To the Bronx. He probably loved them in his own way. And they probably loved him. I can’t say. They’re not here right now. Barbara said she had plans. Kammy doesn’t have a phone. CJ won’t be released until his 18th birthday.
Barbara is still in shock about what’s happened to Charlie. She assumed he was working. Selling. Or whatever his job was that week. She never expected to get a fateful phone call that her love was gone. She never thought she would be saddled with his $80,000 in credit card debt. And she incorrectly assumed he had filed tax returns for the last 15 years.
Charles marched to the beat of his own drummer. Sometimes that drumming might have rubbed folks the wrong way. Maybe it rubbed Heidi Klum the wrong way that night. Maybe that’s why she called the police.
When I look at the police report, and I see them referring to a Caucasian male, 34, in a hooded sweatshirt and jeans, I know that’s our Charlie. And when it talks about how he refused all requests to drop the weapon, drop the weapon, drop the weapon’ I say that’s the Charlie I knew. Who we all knew. Doing his own thing. Living his own life. Pursuing his own dream.
Though I kind of understand why they shot him, and I can forgive them for doing so, I have to say 23 bullets was more than enough. It was excessive. The Charlie I knew didn’t need to be stopped by 23 bullets. One would have sufficed. Or maybe 2 or 3 if he continued to charge them in his PCP-induced rage. But 23? Not our Charlie. Not the Charlie that lies here before us.
I’m going to miss you, buddy. Charlie. It was too soon. Too soon.
See you in Heaven.
Uses for 311
311 is New York City’s New Phone Number for Government Information and Services. Among the many services accessible through 311, you can:
Find out if the guy who screamed “Take me to a sandwich” at you was ever taken to a sandwich.
Thank the Mayor for making restaurants smoke-free and 30% less profitable.
Report a loud noise that passed by forty minutes ago.
Tell the Mayor about your new improvisational comedy troupe. See if he can get someone from William Morris Agency to come by.
Find out what up with that.
Report quality of life complaints such as blocked driveways, loud youths and lousy quality of life.
Obtain the phone number of any City voicemail maze.
Politely request that real estate mogul Barbara Corcoran cease plastering her face on billboards.
Report any non-emergency Carson Daly sightings.
Find out what the Arabs who run your corner deli were saying about you.
Get a recommendation for a lawyer to help you sue the city because you tripped on a signpost stub.
Report the broken streetlight you reported last week.
Find out what “Neckface” means.
Ask how much this is costing New York taxpayers.
Report non-taxpayers.
Find out if Pedro Martinez ever studied the Japanese martial art of Aikido because the way he threw Don Zimmer down was very Aikido-like and graceful.
Locate a nearby Holocaust-denial group.
Find out when there’ll be more Cynthia Steffe on sale at Loehmann’s. Tell Mayor you got a great deal on a Fendi dress solely because of a missing belt.
Obtain the local garbage pick-up schedule so you can coordinate your soda can farming expeditions.
Ask where the hell the 6 train is for God’s sake.
Find out if so-and-so is on the up-and-up.
Get the latest fashions or recommend a fashion trend.
Ask the Mayor what frickin’ movie they blocked 19th Street for and convey your annoyance at being forced to unload your new Ikea sofa a block away.
Have the operator moderate your game of Dungeons & Dragons.
Get a detailed rundown of current official bribes and what they get you in return.
Ask the Mayor for help with your pirated copy of Microsoft Office.
Plead Not Guilty.
Find out the latest restaurant openings and their estimated closings.
Ask if Al Sharpton is serious.
Report a shameless, healthy twenty-something who is smoking, eating, reading a book, feeding a dog and informing you via cardboard that he’s down on his luck.
Start a rumor about melon-crazy comedian Gallagher and supermodel Giselle.
Get the lyrics to 50-Cent’s P.I.M.P.
Recommend the next Mayor.
Convenient Gangsta Press Release
For Immediate Release
____________ grew up on the mean streets of ____________, living with ___ siblings and his mother in a dilapidated two-room apartment in the ____________ housing projects.
____________ never knew his father, a neighborhood ____________ who was ____________ to death in a barroom brawl in February ____________. A chip off the old block, ____________ already had a considerable rap sheet by age ____, and was known to law enforcement as a member of the ____________ Gang. Various arrests for everything from ____________ to ____________ saw to it that ____________ was in and out of jail ___ times before he was ___ years old. It was during these years that ____________ saw a career in music as his only possible way out of the ‘hood.
He has an amazing capacity for survival, narrowly escaping _____ attempts on his life. But rather than being dominated by fear, he considers those attempts and subsequent scars from his ____________ wounds to be points of pride, proof that he’s no poser. Rather, ____________ wants people know he’s earned his reputation as a man who was shaped by a rough & tumble life. He insists that his boisterous lyrics, which his detractors find controversial and ____________, are not posturing but rather a true slice of Gangsta life
“I’m the real deal,” says ____________.
____________’s longtime mentor was ____________, who just last week was ____________while sitting in his ____________, an apparent victim of the East & West coast record label rivalry that has claimed ____________ of the genre’s luminaries so far. Though the authorities have few solid leads on the homicide, ____________ seems to think he knows who is ultimately responsible. But he isn’t talking about it.
____________’s latest endeavor, ____________________, is his best yet. Fans are sure not to be disappointed with pull-no-punches tracks such as “_____________________” and the current #___ Billboard hit, “_____________________.”
_____________________ is available at all _____-_____ stores.
###
New York Sidewalk Trivia
The average time it takes any stationary object to be sprayed with dog urine is nine minutes.
The skeletal remains of bicycle frames you see chained to various bike stands and signposts are all part of a massive art project by pointless modern artist Christo.
There are more bacteria on the sole of a single New York City shoe than there are in the entire nation of Gambia.
97% of sentences beginning with “Excuse me” are not apologetic in nature but rather a preface to being asked for money.
Diagonal walking accounts for 77% of all “sidewalk-rage” incidents.
All the brand new boxes for the free weekly The Onion were completely covered by graffiti, stickers, and the ludicrous”Housing As A Constitutional Amendment” flyer within twelve minutes of being placed on the street corner.
“I Survived The Blackout” t-shirts would have been available two hours after power went out, but the artist’s computer didn’t work.
As you walk by Apex Technical School students on 19th and 6th, remember that the number of graduates who went on to lucrative local, regional or national careers in government is still zero.
That guy who told you his alternator was broken and that he needed $32 to get it fixed so he could get back to New Jersey does not actually have a car.
Yes, that was Ethan Hawke.
That gentleman who just tossed the McDonald’s cup, straw, bag, burger box, French fry container and apple pie box on the road emigrated here from Shanghai to live a better life.
The toothless drunk passed out on 7th and 22nd at 10:00am considers himself a victim of tax cuts for the rich, Enron and Dick Grasso’s salary.
A busy hot dog vendor can make over $80,000 a year. A busy Gastroenterologist treating food poisoning cases from that same vendor can make $300,000 a year.
A single stretch of Manhattan sidewalk has more poop-per-inch than an Idaho cornfield on Planting Day.
A zealous, motivated leaflet distributor can annoy over 72 pedestrians per minute.
The shills for “Flesh Dancers” have indirectly contributed to over 329 divorces in the last 5 years.
0% of actors using the $99 headshot service advertised on every light post and mailbox have appeared in theatre, TV or film.
The guy selling the albums on the blanket hails from Somalia, where the warlords have yet to establish copyright infringement laws.
A drunk passed out on a park bench with his penis hanging out can traumatize an average of three children and seven adults an hour.
The individual selling the $30 “backup” copy of the $999 Final Cut Pro program assumes you already have a full-price copy and just need the backup to be safe. He will be crushed if you have lied to him.
That gentleman with the sidewalk yard sale was indeed selling the boot you threw out last week.
People who think they’re experiencing sidewalk déja vu are actually just unaware that the “United Homeless Organization” guy at 17th & Park is reading from the same script as the “United Homeless Organization” guy on 17th & Broadway.
After limited exposure to the elements, a bloodstain will resemble a poopstain. Both should still be avoided.
There is an 84% chance that an arrogant Sex & The City Production Assistant will let you pass if you counter their attitude with the realities of their salary.
All the merchandise on Canal Street would be worth an amazing $93 Billion if it were actually legal and licensed. That would be enough to pay for the rebuilding of Iraq, and purchase more unlicensed merchandise from China.
89% of Segway riders have touched another person while being catapulted from their defective Segway. For 92%, this was their first significant human contact.
Modern Commandments For Modern Times
It’s clear that in this day and age the Ten Commandments as originally written are just not up to the task of dealing with all the nuances of modern life. So in order to make all our lives that bit easier and yet still guarantee us all a seat on the right hand of the Lord, here’s a re-draft:
1. I am the Lord thy God. Thou shalt not have strange gods before me. However if it or they are not strange to you, it’s fine. Crave all the false idols you need.
2. Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy God in vain. But if it’s not in vain, that’s ok, I’d hate to hold you back.
3. Remember thou keep the Sabbath Day. As in keep it well hidden.
4. Honor thy Father and thy Mother. Assuming you know who they are. Putting them into a hideous ‘rest home’ and leaving them to die whilst visiting just once a year counts. Just because you honor them doesn’t mean you should have to pay for them – you didn’t ask to be born.
5. Thou shalt not kill. Unless the Pope says it’s ok. Unless your generals say they have to. Unless the other guy is a bad guy (you get to define ‘bad guys’). Unless the bad guys are foreign. Or funny. Or different. Or attack you first. Or unless you really, really want to.
6. Thou shalt not commit adultery. More than once a week. I did not have sex with that woman. Or unless you really, really want to.
7. Thou shalt not steal. ‘Steal’ as defined by the courts. Or unless you really, really want to.
8. Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbor. Unless they really deserve it. Unless it’s for the greater good (as defined by you). Or unless you really, really want to.
9. Thou shalt not covet thy neighbour’s wife. Have sex with, yes – covet, no. Or unless you really, really want to.
10. Thou shalt not covet thy neighbour’s goods. Unless you really, really want to.
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