Category Archives: Uncategorized

I did some work for the Muncheez people and I liked them. Very much.  High, drunk, deranged, crazed, starved? Muncheez may look like a place to get yer fix when you got the munchies and it is! Cause you are a discerning individual.You will walk, uber, careen, the extra kilometer for Muncheez.   

A righteous undertaking. And rewarded.

Holy cow. The field guide. Whatever.

Bout time. Bandwagon’s been idling at the corner of Sliced Bread and Hold the Onion forEVAH.

From the Times…thank you so much for the introduction…

Hugo Guinness, the English-born, Brooklyn-based artist, fashion collaborator and voice actor. Mr. Guiness’ fine-lined drawings echo the work he is known for: coveted lino cut prints, drawings and paintings. He trades the paintbrush for the pen for his ongoing collaboration with the film director Wes Anderson. Guinness’s own home was the model for the Tenenbaum family’s dollhouse-like mansion. He is also a writing partner with Anderson, and the duo recently received an Oscar nomination for Best Original Screenplay for “The Grand Budapest Hotel.”

He is a secret of sorts himself, to me that is, and I am thrilled he was revealed to me by the Lovely and Eternally Patient Susan Trosper.

Read and see more here. The slideshow reveals some of Mr. Guiness’ inner workings.  It is that time of year in cold, dark places – the time of year when our cold, dark inner workings become magnified.

What is my secret talent? Digging deep into lightless, icy caverns here. My secret talent is. Well, I do not have any. Either I have already told you or…the thing I thought I was good at has been revealed to be a flaw. Ah yes, I got it now.  My secret talent is making the sound of a contented guinea pig. Not the high whistle but the funny low chuck-clucking they make when nesting.

What is YOUR secret talent?

Such a sweet picture. Radish roses. My mom made those. Radish roses could be found in our refrigerator before dinner parties, floating in blue-topped, dishwasher-warped, Tupperware tall boys. That would have been in the 60’s, I suppose.

My mother was no shrinking violet, particularly in terms of politics, civil rights, women’s rights. She picketed George Wallace – alone. And she made radish roses. Was it a rosy time? Yeah, it was, sorta. Optimistically rosy, sorta. So many things such a mess, not tidy like our fridge. So much to do, not enough time to do it.

Then came the 70’s, out went the roses.

L’art du sandweech – deux minutes d’inspiration. S’ils vous plait, rappelez-vous a enjoy chaque sandweech in ze new year and every year. Joyeux 2015!~

Merci beaucoup MMSMIB!

At this rate, The Lunch Encounter will become LRoy’s Lunch Encounter. Deservedly. He’s taking a mess o’ Joe’s for the team. Poor thing. Not.

So, this is where we separate the true believers from the “can I have mine on toast with no mayo please.”

If you’re a religious reader of Lisa’s blog (that is, on your knees, begging for forgiveness), you’ve heard about the New Jersey Sloppy Joe before (all hail the Milburn Deli). Not a mess of ground beef and tomato sauce, but a triple-decker cold cut ‘wich. Best-man (twice!) James provided a long exegesis a ways back, but here I was this week and it was as good (and exactly he same) as my first, 45 years ago. How do they do that? Like this:

That’s 3 thin slices of rye (buttered), your choice of ham (mine), roast beef (James’), or turkey (WTF?). Swiss. Cole slaw. Russian dressing. To die for (I’m sure some have. Plus, often served when sitting shiva. Make a note for when I pass). Ta-da:

Rules for eating: left side first. Then the right. Save the wedge for last:

That first bite of the wedge is better than sex (first, last, ever).

I once had two Joes in one sitting. No problem. Looking forward to doing it again. Then dying.

All I want is a room that is true
A sight worth seeing, a vision with you
All I  want is a room that is true, oh

I will give it my finest hour
Put in a counter, 24 hours
I will give you my finest hour, oh, yeah

All I want is a dollar on the wall
A small remembrance of something more solid
All I want is a sandwich for you

Picture this, a day in December
Picture this, freezing cold weather
We want to make you at home
You’ll be never alone
Our place is the place for your lunch
If you could only

Picture this, a sky full of thunder
Picture this, our telephone number
One and one is what I’m telling you, oh, yeah

All I want is 20th century vision
A total portrait with no omissions
All I want is a vision of you, oh
If you can

Picture this, a day in December
Picture this, freezing cold weather
We’ve got to-go cups with lids
We’ll keep you offa the skids
Delivery to all the boys at the garage, oh yeah
If you could only

Picture this, a sky full of thunder
Picture this, my telephone number
One and one is what I’m telling you
Get a pocket computer
Try to do what ya used to do, yeah