Saturday, August 30, 2008

Without the rain forest, life on earth is unsustainable.

The Amazon. Wouldn't a Wal-Mart look great here?

A few months ago, on a whim, I picked up a pre-publication copy of a children's book my last place of employment was publishing - it was called You Can Save the Planet.

It was the evening before I was getting on a plane for Los Angeles (after being a good psychotic hippie and buying carbon credits to make my trip carbon-neutral), and I was bored. I flipped to a page and started reading. This book, mind you, is for kids. I opened it to a chapter on the rain forest. It started (and I am paraphrasing) - "Did you know that without rain forests, life on earth would be unsustainable? Did you also know that an area of rain forest the size of a football field is cleared EVERY SECOND?"

Well, needless to say, my evening was shot. This shit is ridiculous. I KNOW they're poor and doing what they have to in order to survive. I KNOW a lot of them don't know any better. But, Jesus Fucking Christ. We have to teach them how to farm sustainably. We HAVE TO.

It can't be that difficult.

And now there's this trinket of news:
RIO DE JANEIRO, Brazil - Amazon deforestation jumped 69 percent in the past 12 months — the first such increase in three years — as rising demand for soy and cattle pushes farmers and ranchers to raze trees, officials said Saturday.

Some 3,088 square miles of forest were destroyed between August 2007 and August 2008 — a 69 percent increase over the 1,861 square miles felled in the previous 12 months, according to the National Institute for Space Research, or INPE, which monitors destruction of the Amazon.
We need to figure this shit out. And we need to do it NOW. Land-raping has to stop - at the rate we're going, there won't be anything left to plunder.

What can we do?

Donating money to some "fund" that emails me on a daily basis, wastes god knows how much paper and fuel sending out annoying bulk mailings on a weekly basis, gives away "premiums" like stuffed dolphins that I'm sure were made in China - that's obviously not working.

We've got a cute little movie called Madagascar - it shows lemurs and sifakas and aye-ayes frolicking in the beauty and wonder of a Paradise on Earth with rivulets and food and baobab trees and fruit a-plenty. But did you know that only ten per cent of Madagascar's rain forest - yes, that's correct - TEN PER CENT - remains, and even that is teetering on the brink of being clear-cut?

All those cute little lemurs and chameleons and tenrecs and aye-ayes kids are going to be cheering when Madagascar 2: Escape 2 Africa comes out in November - they're dying out really, really quickly because Malagasy need to know how to farm sustainably.

I would volunteer my services GLADLY if I could find an organization that would teach farmers how to work without clear-cutting. I would work for FREE as long as I could have the knowledge that I was helping save the rain forest from complete and utter destruction.

Anyone have any ideas? I'm not kidding.

Friday, August 29, 2008

Princess Ariel's Wedding Day

Princess Ariel by norn

Once upon a time in the Magical Meadow lived a pony named Ariel.

Now, Ariel was no ordinary pony! She was the Crown Princess of the pony kingdom. She ruled with dignity, kindness and love of brother.

She was revered by all because of her intelligence and outstanding beauty. Of special note to her subjects were her hooves, which shone like gold in the morning sun. She had them polished every day with a special ointment made of honeysuckles, dew collected from the lilies of the field and yeast. Oh, her hooves were gorgeous.

One fine spring morn while making her rounds through the kingdom, she noticed a homeless little pony in the gutter with a broken leg. Oh, poor street urchin pony!

She gathered the ailing lad on her back and carried him back to her castle where she nursed him back to health and gave him a steady job and a place to stay. The princess couldn't explain it, but after spending so much time with the once-downtrodden pony she started to fancy him. The two fell in love.

On the eve of their wedding day they were strolling through the pasture snacking on fresh wheatgrass and oats. All of a sudden, a huge net trapped the love-struck ponies and two horrid men jumped down and clonked them on the heads, chopped off their hooves and shot them, leaving their broken, mangled bodies there to become carrion, a rotting testament to lost love.

But the children in the next village all said that the jell-o at Timmy's birthday party was the best ever.

Sarah Palin - harbinger of doom.

How does someone who claims he is "pro-environment" and "green" choose as a running-mate a strident opponent of any environmental progress, one who OPPOSED placing the polar bear on the endangered species list and one who denies the science that proves global warming exists? HOW?

If this shit-smear actually gets elected - we might as well all just say goodbye to nature right now, because she does not give one FUCK about anything but oil and money.

Ode To Embryo

by Dimples Doublefist

Every vegan tells the same tired story: "the hardest part was giving up cheese." Then they'll go on and on about all of their little indiscretions, their fucks ups that ultimately led to the path of righteousness. Some will tell you how such-and-such vegan cheese is really "not that bad," and you'll know they are lying because ALL vegan cheeses are disgusting except for Dr. Cow's Tree Nut Cheese (but that's only for the rich and fabulous in NYC and Washington, DC, apparently). Anyway, you get the point: vegans remember cheese as some sort of totally affordable Oxycontin--nothing like a slice of Velveeta to make the pain go away or a wedge of brie to make you feel loved--whose high never fades away.

All I have to say is: fuck cheese. I loved eggs.

I already know what you are thinking: ewwww, eggs are gross, slimy, fetus-secretion-slime-balls, OMG. But I loved them. I ate heuvos rancheros like I was on death row and it was my last meal, as often as I could. I liked 'em poached, fried, scrambled, deviled or sunny-side up. I never met an egg I didn't like. It was harder to give up eggs than it was my totally gluttonous collection of leather shoes.

Unfortunately, most tofu scramble sucks. There are many mistakes to be made: the tofu is too soft or the water is not properly drained; the cook is talentless and the wrong spices are used or the ratios are off; usually, it's D) all of the above.

I can happily report that there is a tofu scrambles that is actually un-fucking-believable. It's the recipe in Isa Chandra Moskowitz's instant-classic Vegan with a Vengeance. Her recipe is amazing for several reasons: 1. she goes into great detail about how to get the texture right (large, well drained chunks) 2. she gets the spices right--garlic, turmeric, nutritional yeast and fresh lemon juice and 3. she adds the right combination of vegetables, which is always red peppers, garlic, onions and lots of mushrooms. The final result is outstanding. I haven't tasted a finer tofu scramble.

But there's nothing like a supple tofu rancheros, which no one seems to be able to make with any proficiency. However, the Twin Sisters Cafe in San Antonio, Texas makes a pretty fucking great one: the salsa is hot as shit, the tofu scramble is not earth shattering, but it's good, there is a homemade tortilla and delicious black beans that are rich and garlicky. But when it all comes together, the result is fabulous. I could eat this shit every single day. I'd die happy if I dropped over with garlic breath and few black beans wedged between my teeth. Buenos Dias!

I still miss eggs when I forget about the egg industry for a split second--or I happen to lose sight of the fact that no animal was put on this earth to be dominated and commodified to death. Those are big words, yes, but they point to a simple truth: I don't know what the fuck this life is about, but egg salad will never point toward Higher Truth. At least I know that much.

Wednesday, August 27, 2008


I just want everything to be safe and healthy. Why is that so much to expect?

Mongo Avoid Candy

After Mongo's many excursions into the realm of vegan desserts over the past few weeks - and believe me, there have been plenty - he's taking a sabbatical from the soy non-dairy frozen desserts, the rice non-dairy frozen desserts, candy, cookies, pudding, scones, biscuits, fruit roll-ups, dips, chips, cakes, chocolates, whips, and any other number of unnecessary comestibles because he has gained an enormous amount of weight and, well, just plain doesn't like it. When Mongo finds that clothes are starting to bind and pull and be stifling to wear - Mongo knows he needs to lay off the god damn pudding pops.

But that doesn't mean that Marky Mae won't contribute. MM, Mongo's keeper, is on a path to clean eating and will share things that don't add bulk to Mr. Waistline.

Desserts - whether they're created with teat extract or vegan replacements - turn you into an unhappy, fat bastard. And Mongo, for one, is TURNED OFF.

Tuesday, August 19, 2008

The hippie goddess has landed and her name is Michele.

by Dimples Doublefist

Basically, there are two demons who rule my life: the first is the demon who's afraid of getting fat and the second is the demon who can't stop eating. It's a vicious and unending cycle.

Unless I am nauseatingly stuffed, going to the grocery store is a dangerous proposition: if it says it's vegan and the packaging is somehow shiny and the word "delicious" is mentioned, chances are I want it. And I want it right now. That's what happened when I made a trip to Yes! Organic Market in Adam's Morgan this past Sunday. That Cherry-Vegan Chocolate Chip-Macadamia Nut Granola was screaming, "Buy me, gaywad, buy me!". So, I did.

I love granola, but there haven't been a plethora of opportunities to write haiku about it over the years, but Michele's Granola, which is locally made in Baltimore and available all over Washington, DC, is truly incredible. It's crispy, chewy and utterly delightful. Thank you, Michele, for bringing this hippie staple to a new level.

Really, this is the best granola I've ever had---and rest assured, I have made my own (because it's super easy). But even my own sucked in comparison. Michele has found the magic formula, and that apparently amounts to using a gourmet oatmeal cookie recipe and crumbling it up, bagging it and selling it to hippies like me.

Chocolate tongued bliss,
chewy cherry sticks to teeth;
Fat demon attacks.

Sunday, August 17, 2008

Mongo Like Candy... (part 3)

All right - we'll just admit it. Mongo is a fucking pig. I mean, he'd eat shit if it was dipped in chocolate. So if he sees something that sounds even moderately appetizing and is vegan, most likely he'll obsess over it until he buys it and gobbles it voraciously, even if it tastes like blended compost.

This weekend, Mongo consumed:

  • One pint Organic Rice Dream Orange Vanilla Swirl

  • One pint Purely Decadent Coconut Craze

  • Two -yes, two - Rice Dream Frozen Pies (chocolate and mint)

  • More, but he's trying to modify the list so y'all don't realize how much of a pig he truly is. I mean, this shit is fucking gross.

  • So it should be fairly obvious - Mongo likes his junk food. A lot. So when he saw Smart Treat Chocolate Almond Joy, he snapped that motherfucker up asap. It looked delicious, two little chocolate cups just a-hankerin' to be eaten by a big, fat junk food hog like Mongo.

    And then he read the label.

    Asheville again.

    What is it with these hippies? You know, Mongo used to live in Asheville. Mongo sometimes wishes he STILL lived in Asheville. But Mongo knows that if he DID still live in Asheville, he'd be working in an assembly line or at a coffeehouse, spending his evenings chainsmoking, getting drunk, dropping acid, and boning rednecks. that's just how you operate when you're in Asheville. It is a laid back town.

    This snackfood had something going for it before he even opened it - memories of Mongo's past.

    Mongo had consumed Smart Treat snacks (like the Chip Of Everything Cookie -"so good it'll make you want to fuck" - that should be this cookie's slogan), but never this variety. He had enjoyed their previous efforts, so he assumed this one was going to be just as fucking awesome as the other vegan comestibles the Smart Treat wizards had whipped up down South.

    Then Mongo took a bite of the Chocolate Almond Joy. Thumbs down, y'all.

    This shit is so sweet even Mongo didn't like it. I mean, the sweetness makes it difficult to even figure out what this shit tastes like - that's how sweet it is. Totally uncool.

    The texture is velvety and gorgeous. The chocolate melts in your mouth. The center is moist and divine. But you never get to enjoy it because you're too busy cramping up and bloating from the sweetener (brown rice syrup, the label says). It could kill you, this thing.

    So, Mongo was disappointed. Mongo loves candy, y'all, but Mongo doesn't love the Chocolate Almond Joy from Smart Treat in Asheville.

    Thursday, August 14, 2008

    Mongo like candy... (part 2)

    Mongo has been eyeing a particular brand of raw chocolate recently. And because Mongo likes to try new things and love love LOVES to spend inordinate amounts of money on superfluous crap, Mongo succumbed to his desire and purchased one of these little numbers today.

    It has everything that entices Mongo - it's vegan, it's raw, it's made without refined sugar, and it comes in 100% biodegradable packaging. Mongo would have to say that Love Street Living Foods had him hooked before he even opened the god damn package.
    From their website: Our 100% raw organic Fair Trade chocolate products start with cacao and cacao butter harvested organically from Ecuador still in its most mineral-rich and living state.

    Organic raw chocolate is filled with health-giving nutrients, minerals and enzymes. Raw chocolate is different than conventional chocolate which has been roasted and cooked at high temperatures. We use raw cacao butter and coconut oil, rich in nutrients and minerals, unlike the unhealthy and hydrogenated oils in most chocolate, for a creamy texture. The special addition of maca, super nutritionally rich staple from Peru, results in a true super food delight! This is the way chocolate was meant to be grown, harvested, prepared, and enjoyed!

    Mongo originally saw this chocolate at Lifethyme but passed it up when he asked the cashier how much it was and the cashier responded, "I don't know, but it mad expensive." Mongo put it back because he didn't have time for such shenanigans, but then Mongo spotted it again today while at Westerly Health Foods, his favorite hippie comestibles kiosk in New York.

    $3.79 - not too terrible, given the retardedly overpriced nature of raw foods.

    Mongo bought it and rushed home with it, eager to slice that biodegradable packaging open and give this shit a whirl. Well, he did. And Mongo gives Love Street a big, fat THUMBS UP.

    It does NOT taste like raw chocolate. It tastes like - surprise - chocolate. It's a little gritty, but one has to assume that's because it's sweetened with maple sugar, which is granular by nature. 

    Try it - you'll like it. It is deee-vine. There's another version with goji berries in it, but Mongo thinks goji berries are gay and steered clear of that one.

    Mongo did, however, just peruse Love Street's website and come across this little number that sounds so good he almost started crying. Mongo hopes that Westerly carries it because Mongo won't rest until he's dipped into that Tub of Wonder.

    This is the least ridiculous video of this awesome song
    Mongo could find on youtube.

    Wednesday, August 13, 2008

    Oh Yes, My Dear Man - More Beans!

    Look, I know I complain a lot about the food in Washington, DC. And yes, it's no secret that I am insulting the vegan food, or the lack thereof, specifically. But that's the way it is: if you are lucky enough to find something vegan on a menu, chances are you'll wish you hadn't. My beef with this place is its obsession with it. Barf.

    My standards for lunch food, however, are impossibly low. Let's just say I eat a lot of bean burritos. Occasionally, a salad or some leftovers are thrown in for good measure, but rice, beans, salsa and tortilla comprise about 98% of my diet before 6 PM. That's because, across the street from where I work, there is Juice Joint---a completely bells and whistles-free cafe that makes an awesome, filling, less than $5 vegan burrito. Somehow, I don't get sick of it.

    However, diagonally across the street, a new restaurant opened that got me excited: Organic to Go. Upon further investigation, I find out that it's actually a chain that started on the West Coast, and DC is the first venture east. The name of the place got me totally excited. So, yesterday, I decided to check the place out.

    Because I went during lunchtime, of course the place was packed. It's a block from the White House on K Street, so I expected as much. There is a salad bar, a large assortment of bottled and fresh juices, a sandwich menu and a pizza menu. There is only one vegan sandwich on the menu---and, of course, it's the most uncreative stereotype of vegan food imaginable: a roasted vegetable sandwich drenched in vinaigrette dressing. I don't know about you, but I'd rather walk across the street to the park and forage for dandelion greens that my dogs have probably pissed on.

    The place, you know, because it's "organic," is crazy expensive and everything looks ridiculously boring. There weren't even good smells wafting through the place. The salad bar is de rigeur, and $8 a pound! Yes, I believe in the concept of organic, especially when applied to local farms, but please: this is just another capitalist venture aimed at cashing in on people believing a tiny $10 sandwich is going to prevent wrinkles, baldness and cancer.

    I don't know about you, but I am sticking with my trusty burrito.

    Tuesday, August 12, 2008

    Sticky Fingers

    by Dimples Doublefist

    A few years ago, I was sitting around minding my own business when I noticed an ad for Stinky Fingers Bakery in Washington, DC. I think it was VegNews magazine and I think they had bestowed some sort of prize and/or honor on them. But I remember this crystal-clear: there was a picture of a sticky bun.

    And since I love Sticky Buns like lesbians love folk music (complete devotion), I knew right then and there I had to have one. I did what any desperate addict would do: I told the BF that if he really loved me, he'd buy me a tray of sticky buns and have them mailed to North Carolina [The real 'Secret' is that, in order to get what you really want, it's best to be both direct and manipulative simultaneously].

    Well, the answer to that question was obvious: not only did I receive a tray of sticky buns, but I also got a whole tray of Little Devils---the creme filled, chocolate sandwiches. Sadly, though, when the box arrived, there was icing all over the place; it was a gooey mess. The whole thing was a substandard packaging nightmare. But I know you don't give a shit about that.

    Well, the sticky buns were drier than the Mohave, and they basically tasted like something out of one of those supermarket cinnamon rolls that are fun to burst open and bake. In other words, they are fun in theory but taste like ass. I hold this opinion to this day: they are dry, and for a sticky bun, they lack density, flavor, richness. Why the fuck eat something called a "sticky cinnamon bun" if it isn't actually sticky? The Little Devils, on the other hand, were amazing. The chocolate was rich and moist and the creme was smooth and dreamy. Dee-lish.

    Now that I live here, I am sad to report that the place is still a mixed-bag. Most vegans here won't be honest and tell you that. They'll go on and on about the place, but I am convinced that either their taste buds choked to death on one of their disgusting bone-like cookies or their standards are impossibly low; that is to say, they are used to eating sand.

    The Corvin is sort of the white version of the Little Devil---with an oatmeal cookie-esque out layer. It's way, way too sweet, but the flavor is good. They have deli sandwiches that are as uninspired as they come---faux tuna, faux deli meat, chickpea salad sandwiches---but they are not awful. They also have this faux egg mcmuffin thingy that, I have to admit, is tasty. They are, however, very expensive. In fact, everything at Stinky Fingers is expensive---right down to their (very small) $5 cones of vegan soft serve. The place might cater to smelly fixed-gear-bike riding poseur punks, but only the ones with dough to blow.

    I am told that the custom cakes at Stinky Fingers are exceptional, but I can't comment on that because I haven't tried them. Given the crazy ass prices, I probably won't. They are, indeed, very pretty, though, and that alone counts for something. (Plus, I don't know why they don't spend more time decorating the cafe; it's hideous, with it's slight swirl of pink that's supposed to resemble, I suppose, either garish icing or Peptol Bismol dripping down the sides of the wall).

    After all the shit talk, I do go there occasionally, but it's mainly out of White Vegan Guilt: shouldn't I support a vegan business, even if it's not particularly awesome? Well, yes, I suppose I think I should.

    Monday, August 11, 2008

    Mongo like candy...

    These assholes right here - they taste GOOD.

    I'm going to admit it. I am a pig. I am a BIG FAT PIG. I can eat a whole pizza in one sitting and want more. You put a pint of non-dairy frozen dessert in front of me - as soon as it's gone, I'm going to want another one.

    I'm trying to learn moderation. I really am. But sometimes - you've just got to say, "fuck that."

    Like today, for example. Today I went to see Pineapple Express to alleviate some duress I am going through at the moment.

    Before the film, I stopped off at Perelandra Natural Foods in Brooklyn Heights to purchase some snacks for the film that wouldn't contain the usual offending ingredients found in movie vendors' snack items (gelatin, whatever the fuck that slime is they drizzle on their popcorn, dairy, hot dogs, et cetera).

    After being hit on by the Goth boy in the Siouxsie & the Banshees 'Seven Year Itch' tour t-shirt, I purchased three - yes, that's right - three - varieties of Crispy Cat Candy Bars from Tree Huggin' Treats.

    Let me tell you something - these little bastards are mmm-mmm GOOD. They come in three (3) varieties: Roasted Peanut, Mint Coconut, and Toasted Almond.

    And the best part - they don't taste like hippie food. You know, sometimes when you buy a "candy bar" at the health food store and it tastes like you're eating compressed compost?

    Or, there was that one time I bought a dark chocolate candy bar at that health food store on Pasadena Blvd. in St. Petersburg, only to open it and find maggots creating complex tunnels throughout its ultradark center. "That will happen since there are no preservatives," the disinterested cashier said vaguely as she refunded my money.

    But back to these bitches. These candy bars taste like actual real candy bars. No soy flavor, no chalky bullshit, no hemp nuts or goji berries. Just plain candy. And they're ORGANIC.

    They've got 220 calories each, and since I ate three I probably shouldn't eat anything else for the rest of the day - but as I said, I'm a pig. I'll probably get three more of these bad boyz tomorrow.


    Beyond Fucked Up.

    Only 100 left? Big deal. We need a border fence.

    It starts.

    Now that Simian-in-Chief is winding down his Junta of idiocy, he's taking time out from his daily schedule of drooling and spooning pablum and making misstatements to take one final stab at securing an ecologically unstable, biologically boring and downright ugly planet for the children of the future.

    Yesterday, Shitsmear McGee and his Gaggle of Morons decided it would be a good idea to chip away at the Endangered Species Act, making it so agencies do NOT have to have their projects validated as ecologically sound by scientists before hacking into the earth, removing trees, destroying the homes of endangered animals.
    The Bush administration wants federal agencies to decide for themselves whether highways, dams, mines and other construction projects might harm endangered animals and plants.

    My first reaction to this, after calming myself down, was "Who the hell even thinks this way?" Seriously. Think about it. You have to be TRYING to be an asshole to come up with something this backward and just downright stupid.

    The bad news - GWB apparently does not need to go through Congress to make changes to the ESA. He can just do it.

    The worse news - How many government agencies do you think are going design a highway and then scrap it at the last minute because they discover that it will be impeding on the final area of land in which a particular, direly endangered species of butterfly is able to exist?

    "Butterflies? Big deal," the asswipes will say as they break ground.

    Worse still, the changes would affect our ability to protect species due to global warming.
    Interior Secretary Dirk Kempthorne said late Monday the changes were needed to ensure that the Endangered Species Act would not be used as a "back door" to regulate the gases blamed for global warming. In May, the polar bear became the first species declared as threatened because of climate change. Warming temperatures are expected to melt the sea ice the bear depends on for survival.

    My only hope, if Dipshit McGillicuddy actually goes through with this big "Fuck You" to the planet, is that the next President, whoever it may be, will immediately reverse this Act of Sheer Ignorance.

    I just can't believe the lengths this fuckmouth is going to. It's as if he WANTS us to hate him.

    No matter which way you slice it, this shit is good.

    by Dimples Doublefist

    My neighborhood in Washington, DC---Adam's Morgan---is totally charming. That is, if you stay away from the crack-house only one block over from where I live. Or, you aren't beaten within an inch of your life so that someone can steal your $49 cell phone. And finally, overlook all the trash and chicken wings littering the sidewalks. Once you get past all of that, it's Mr. Rogers neighborhood, but with more diversity and people who are, like, totally committed to yoga.

    But the best part of Adam's Morgan is Harris Teeter. More specifically, it's the bakery at Harris Teeter that makes me go all coo-coo for cocoa puffs.

    As it turns out, Harris Teeter's artisan breads (I know: I can't believe I am putting all of that in the same sentence either) come from La Brea Bakery---a bakery in Los Angeles that basically uses flour, water, salt and yeast. The breads are amazing---and they are vegan (unlike almost everything from that good-for-nothing bakery at Whole Foods). These breads are crusty on the outside and soft on the inside---just the like the hippie to which I aspire.

    The BF and I buy a lot of this bread, which runs between $3 and $5 a loaf, to dip in all sorts of things. The dogs and I prefer to eat it smeared with almond butter and peach preserves, but that's just because we are decadent. But no matter how you slice it, these loaves are guaranteed to bring you joy: available at a Harris Teeter near you.

    Sunday, August 10, 2008

    Things Were Much Simpler Then...

    Who in their mid-adulthood doesn't look back fondly on those summertime parties where you would gather 'round with your friends and either splash by their pool or sit in their faux-wood paneling-lined family room and watch the Brady Bunch or play Atari while gorging on dumb snacks like Rice Krispies Treats?

    For those of us who have gone vegan, yearning was pretty much all we could do - Rice Krispies Treats are made with marshmallows.

    "What's not vegetarian about marshmallows?" I hear shocked would-be hippies asking in unison. Well, they contain gelatin. Observe:
    Jell-o, marshmallows, some gummy candies and other desserts are made using gelatine (or gelatin), which is produced by boiling the bones, skin and tendons of animals. So if you are serious about avoiding eating any animal derivatives, these desserts have to be taken off the menu. Luckily, there are alternatives to gelatine that are used by many manufacturers. Agar agar is derived from seaweed and the root of the Kuzu is also an effective substance. You can also look for products made with guar gum, carrageenan and pectin instead of gelatine. Gelatine can pop up in unexpected places (Kellogg’s Mini-Wheats is one example) so make sure to read labels diligently. (for the rest of this article, go here.)

    I don't know about you, but I can't feel comfortable eating something that's made out of boiled pony ligaments. I'll steer clear, thank you.

    These motherfuckers have it all. 100 calories, gluten free, organic, vegan, and just plain deee-licious. They taste just like their animal-byproduct-laden counterparts and are oh so much better for you and the rest of the animal kingdom.

    So, if you're feeling nostalgic for the "good old days" when things were less complicated and a lot less shitty - buy a box of these bad boys and put on The Goonies. You will thank yourself for days to come.

    Friday, August 8, 2008

    Winter In New York

    It starts once again.

    Fall is fast upon us, y'all. The myriad of trashy and heinous "fashion" outlets that litter our fair city with their Made-In-China trend hopper crap clothing have put their Summer Sale signs in their windows and are stocking up for the impending frost.

    What's in store? Well, so far I see what has got to be the UGLIEST collection of pumps, shoes, moccasins, flats, and boots EVER created - straps, buckles, bands, superfluous "gladiator" addendums, tassles, fringe, emblems, and bizarrely-placed flaps ensure that this upcoming season's footwear will be downright laughable. But asswipes who can't go for a single minute exhibiting their OWN identities will snatch these things up, making themselves look like a bizarre hybrid of Hopalong Cassidy, an escapee from the local homeless shelter, and Julius Caesar.

    Add to that the fact that designers appear to be going for a retarded version of the Sonny & Cher look, and you've got one fucked up outlook for fashion.

    Clothing, ugly as it may be, is not my primary concern this fall and winter, because I've already seen the tell-tale signs of yet another six months' worth of selfish and asinine CUNTS waddling the streets of New York in fur. Fur, fur, fur, and more fur.

    Winter is my least favorite time in New York City. I hate it. People parade around this place in furs, ostentatiously exhibiting themselves as if the fact that they can afford to wear sewn-together strips of dead animal somehow makes them better than other people.

    Guess what - owning a fur does not make you superior. It makes you a stupid fucking twat.

    Just yesterday I was walking down Broome Street when I happened to look into a 'Designer Boutique' - its windows littered with evidence of many, many murders. Anorexic mannequins were draped with vests and jackets that looked like they had been sewn together by blind apes, patches of raccoon and rabbit and probably dog and cat slapped about in haphazard patterns.

    This stupid cunt should
    have her teeth slapped out.

    When are you people going to wake the fuck up? Fur is repulsive. They RIP THE SKIN OFF THOSE ANIMALS WHILE THEY ARE STILL ALIVE. And if you think the animals die immediately after their skin is removed, you are sorely mistaken. The monsters who perform this act for a "living" treat these animals like garbage and once their skins are removed, do NOTHING to end their suffering.

    Anyone who purchases and wears fur is showing the world exactly how little they care about anything but themselves.

    I want everyone to think long and hard about this as they're fingering that disgusting fox-fur vest that's going to be so popular this fall. That vest is a dead animal - a once-beautiful creature that struggled to survive, only to be caught by a bastard who tortured it in a tiny, filthy cage before killing it. Just so you could have a vest that smells bad and isn't as warm as its non-animal counterpart.

    We're supposedly an evolved and intelligent species. Why can't we act like it?

    Monday, August 4, 2008

    "I'm a vegetarian..."

    These folks love fishin'.

    Very little in the world pisses me off faster than dipshits who say the following:

    "I'm a vegetarian but I eat fish," or the even MORE baffling:

    "I'm a vegetarian but I eat chicken."

    Guess what, asshole - then you're NOT a vegetarian.

    It could be argued that you're not a vegetarian if you eat eggs or dairy products, either, because although no animals were killed while appropriating these products - they contain animal fat. But I'm not going to talk about that right now.

    I cannot tell you the number of times I have gotten into screaming matches with dumbfuck hippies about this stupidity involving fish and chicken, even when I myself was cramming ham, hot dogs, bologna, bacon, Chicken McNuggets, pepperoni, and leg of lamb down my throat with ravenous glee.

    These smug assholes who call themselves vegetarians but eat fowl and fish are clearly missing the point. I'm no scientist, but I'm pretty sure fish and chicken don't come from plants.

    Their arguments get dumber. "Fish don't feel pain," they say. Well, again - I'm no scientist, but looking at a fish out of water flapping on the dock gasping for air - it doesn't look to me like they're exactly enjoying themselves. Oh, and then there are the scientific studies. Observe:
    The first conclusive evidence of pain perception in fish is said to have been found by UK scientists.

    This complements earlier findings that both birds and mammals can feel pain, and challenges assertions that fish are impervious to it.

    The scientists found sites in the heads of rainbow trout that responded to damaging stimuli.

    They also found the fish showed marked reactions when exposed to harmful substances.

    The argument over whether fish feel pain has long been a subject of dispute between anglers and animal rights activists.

    The research, by a team from the Roslin Institute and the University of Edinburgh, is published in Proceedings B of the Royal Society, the UK's national academy of science.

    The researchers, led by Dr Lynne Sneddon, say the "profound behavioural and physiological changes" shown by the trout after exposure to noxious substances are comparable to those seen in higher mammals.

    They investigated the fish for the presence of nociceptors, sites that respond to tissue-damaging stimuli. (You can read the rest of the article here)

    "This complements earlier findings that both birds and mammals can feel pain," the article states. I'm sorry - was I missing something? Who in the world is stupid enough to think that human beings are the only animals that feel pain? Have you ever seen an injured animal? They scream. They scream wildly. They flail, they writhe. They hurt.

    Humans who are stupid enough to think that they alone experience pain are clearly deluding themselves in a dreary attempt to clear their consciences of guilt as they carve their steaks and chicken breasts up.

    Vegetarianism follows one simple rule - If it's got a face, don't eat it. (Okay, so sea urchins don't have faces. But pretend they do.)

    White meat doesn't make it acceptable. Killing is killing, no matter what type of animal you're chopping up.

    So call yourself what you are. If you're eating chicken, you're a carnivore. If you're eating fish - you're a CARNIVORE.

    Sunday, August 3, 2008

    Marky Mae Brown Presents, Part II:

    Y'all - it's been a while since the last Taste Test report, and a lot has happened since then, let me tell you.

    I'm finally OFF the non-dairy frozen desserts, thanks in part to the reemergence of les handles d'amour and the fact that consuming this much superfluous, nutrition-free crap runs in exact opposition to everything for which I am supposed to stand.

    That doesn't change the fact that I love this shit, though. I love it with all my heart. If I could, in good conscience, I would spend every waking hour of my existence spooning this shit down and watching Star Trek reruns until I was dead, but alas, that cannot be.

    So now all I have are memories.

    Memories of a time when my friends and I gathered 'round, spoons in hand, and sampled many different varieties of non-dairy frozen desserts while basking in the effervescent glow of Patrick Swayze as he danced his way into Baby's heart in that timeless classic film, Dirty Dancing.

    Our last report was on Good Karma Organic Rice Divine Very Vanilla, and that brand was met with mixed feelings. (I have, since the taste test, grown VERY fond of Good Karma Organic Rice Divine's chocolate chip variety, but that's another story.)

    Our next brand was Purely Decadent made with Coconut Milk Vanilla Bean. This was the flavor everyone was clamoring to get their spoons dug into. It sounds fucking awesome, it looks amazing, it emits an aroma that appears to have been pumped right down from Heaven. We all gave it a pre-tasting thumbs-up.

    But how did it rack up to our discerning palates? Well, let's take a gander.

    Uuaq: "Smells coconutty. Like everything made with this tropical seed fruit, it reminds me of suntan lotion. The lingering aftertaste is unpleasant. The texture is normal but a little reluctant to wash away - so there's a waxy, chemical mouth-coating aftertaste."

    Ja Qui Qui: "Fluffy. Good coconut taste. No vanilla taste. Good for coconut, bad for vanilla."

    Fuddles La Roux: "Smells like coconut air freshener. The taste is pure coconut - delicious, but no fucking vanilla at all. The texture is smooth and creamy and has an actual ice cream likeness. Overall, god damn good, but not vanilla."

    Ms. Mina: "Smells like suntan lotion. Creamy. Tasted more like coconut than vanilla, but yummy."

    Marky Mae Brown: "Deee-licious. Great texture. No vanilla flavor whatsoever. Tastes like coconut."

    Beccers: "I'd rather have a coconut frozfruit. Bland, slimy and no vanilla-y-ness to speak of. Me no likey."

    So it would appear, for the most part, that although this shit doesn't resemble vanilla in any single way whatsoever other than its color, we enjoyed it. It's got 150 calories per serving, with 8 grams of fat. As an added bonus, this shit contains no processed sugar - it's sweetened with agave nectar.

    We all licked our spoons clean and enjoyed the sensation of being transported to a tropical paradise.

    Well, everyone except Beccers. That Beccers is a tough one to please, so we'll see if she ends up giving any of this bullshit a good review. She was so ready to be offended by this bean, cashew, rice, and coconut-based nonsense that she brought two huge things of Hershey's syrup with which to drown the pain and sorrow.

    Stay tuned for Part III!