I got a new Brinkmann smoker a few days ago. Father-in-law (hereinafter known as TPBS – short for Twenty Pounds of BS in a ten pound bag) and I set it up Thursday night.
As soon as it was all put together I plugged it in for a few hours to bake off the bad paint stuff and crud from the inside of the smoker.
This morning Cruel Wife inserted an 8lb pork butt in the smoker (9AM) since I was having a hard time getting out of bed (honestly). I got up a bit after that and did yard work and tended the smoker all day. I smoked the dog shiat out of that pork butt until 5:47PM.
Spaced Diode (a very good MESSENGER/FIPS buddy of mine) and his wife and son came over this afternoon and joined the family and my in-laws for dinner.
Smoked pork, macaroni salad, baked potatoes, olives, marinated shrooms, garlic bread – we ate until we nearly barfed and then ate some more.
A few burps were heard (followed by the fluttering confetti of partially eaten napkins as they were propelled from people’s mouths) and chairs scraped across the patio as everyone sat back far enough to undo belts and pat tummies.
Then Spaced Diode’s wife says “EXCELLENT pork products, Lemur!”
I looked at her in horror.
Cruel Wife’s silverware clattered to her plate and she sucked in a breath between her teeth.
Somewhere in the distance a coyote howled and a low melody sounded from nowhere in particular.
“What did you say? Did I hear you correctly? Pork products?”
She looked at me with those innocent Yooper eyes and said “Yes, pork products. It was excellent.”
I am convinced that children cried and kittens died at that moment.
Tears nearly welling up in my eyes I cast a glance around to make sure the children were out of earshot and said “Yooper Chick, pork products makes it sound like we just got done eating hog lips and assholes. We ate pork butt, which is the shoulder of a pig. Why do you not just stick a knife in my heart and twist until my soul screams into eternity?”
Enough to make a smokemaster want to weep.
You can’t call smoked pork butt pork products. It’s a sin against nature.
Ok, so the plot goes like this: Bad guy rapes good guy’s daughter. Good guy’s daughter commits suicide. Good guy captures bad guy and performs an involuntary sex change on him. Good guy then transplants daughter’s face onto bad guy. Then good guy has sex with bad guy making it impossible to tell who is really a good or bad guy.
Guests, among them a group of sweepstakes winners flown specially to Cannes by Stella Artois from the U.S. to enjoy a once in a lifetime movie premiere were horrified by the experience. That group of Americans left and did not come back to the theater following a partiularly violent rape scene in the middle of the film.
The latest from the Spanish director is based on a French novel, “Tarantula,” and the hometown crowd for the most part (the ones who stayed in the theater) did give Almodovar a five minute standing ovation for the adaptation.
Critics have also fallen in love with the upsetting film and are placing it in contention for the highest Cannes honor, the Palme d’or.
This is what I hate about “high art”. It doesn’t matter if a story has merit or not, it’s just got to move someone emotionally, where the “someone” is a bunch of sick f*cks who have become so desensitized by their masturbation with great handfuls of sand and caustic soda that what should be repulsive suddenly gets standing ovations. If you showed these folks “Pink Flamingos” today they’d go nuts. Polyester was at least funny in a repulsive sort of way, and Waters’ movie PF was awful, but this latest one (not a Waters movie) with Antonio Banderas sounds like a steaming pile of excrement.
Give Squirrel a Whirl? Hokay.