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Archive for March 2009

Kraft Food Crafted From Plastic

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Seems like for the last couple of days I’ve been writing about food, so I thought I’d go one more day and try to get it out of my system. I usually don’t like to mention brand name products or drop company names for the simple fact that I don’t believe in helping them out any more than they want to help me out. Tonight has to be different because I simply can not talk trash on Kraft food without saying Kraft.

 

I don’t know if you were aware of this or not, but the main and base ingredient of all the products on the Kraft menu is plastic. Not just any old plastic, but high yield polymer. The best money can buy from any third world nation.

 

This all came about after I was at a national chain supermarket trying to buy French onion dip. I admit I didn’t spend a lot of time looking, but it seemed like there was only one choice of dip and if there was more than one the others seemed a lot less enticing, (by far). Anyway, the kind that I got was made by Kraft. I took it home, got my chips out, popped the top on the dip and much to my surprise inside the container was the weirdest looking dip I’ve ever seen. You know how most dip is kind of gross looking because the oil of “juice” has separated from the cream, (or whatever) and you need to stir it to get it right? Well, this one didn’t look like that at all. It had the consistency of spackling. You could turn the whole thing upside down and it wouldn’t move. It was hard to even dip the chips into it. They’d keep breaking and you’d have to hold the chip down low at the base, practically running your finger tips through the dip on each pass. Days later, when most dip is in desperate need of a quick mixing; the Kraft dip was exactly the same as it was when I first opened it.

 

Kraft just seems to have a weird flavor to everything they make, manufacture and process. Nothing they sell has a normal, natural, or simple taste. It’s all very “factory” and “by-producty” or just plain scary. The cheese powder for the macaroni and cheese is the most unnatural and scariest color I’ve ever seen. Show me one other thing in this whole world that has that same color. You can’t, because that color doesn’t exist. I’m surprised that the human eye can even recognize it. You’d think it’d just burn a hole in your retina. Before I get too far out on my rant, I should say I don’t have anything against Kraft personally, I just think their food is made of plastic and uniquely gross.

 

Maybe this is all because I’m tired of people making fun of my buddy the Twinkies and its incredibly long shelf life. Why would that be a bad thing? You never have to worry about it going bad. You could buy you’re niece a Twinkie when she was born and give it to her when she graduated from college. That’s convenience at its best!

 

Beside, shelf life means nothing compared to cheese powder you can see from space.

 

Egg On!

Ramblin’ Rooster

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March 31, 2009 at 3:12 am

100 Calorie Pack My Ass

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I’ve been told time and time again, by a variety of sources that America is under attack from an epidemic. That epidemic would be morbid obesity. I can’t think of anything being more horribly named than morbid obesity. Just hearing that would make me want to die. Weight seems to be a non-stop topic of this country and if you’ve ever spent time with a woman, especially long enough for the butterflies to wear off, you definitely know all about how obsessed people can become with weight. You might be asking yourself, what does my television has to say about this. Funny you should ask, because right now it’s screaming, “100 calorie pack”. I’ve always been impressed with science and the amazing achievements that can come from people with brains the size of planets. Figuring out how the human body works, exploring space, discovering cures for disease, tracking the history of the world and taking a dessert that I love and reducing the calories in it. Incredible! There are two things here that really trip my trigger. One is that they can make something an exact calorie count. Isn’t it like “in the ballpark of” or “pretty damn close to”? How can they be so sure of themselves? I wish I had that kind of confidence. Two is the fact that diet or reduced calorie consumables are disgusting. What makes a sweet taste good? The answer is fat and sugar, especially if it’s fried. On occasion there have been moments in my life where I have accidentally been served or for one reason or another had to drink a diet soda pop. Although I’m exaggerating, I’d rather drink urine than diet pop. I’ve actually had people tell me that they prefer the taste of diet drinks. These are the people that I avoid in life. These are the people, right or wrong, that I want nothing to do with ever. Diet food and reduce calorie items are just wrong. There is no diet food growing naturally in the universe. You can argue that this fruit or this vegetable is good for you, blah, blah, blah, but that’s not what I’m saying. My point is that you can’t go up to an apple tree and pick a reduced calorie apple. There’s only the one selection. The same goes for desserts. You shouldn’t be able to eat a box full of cookies and feel OK because it was reduced calories. You should just eat a few “full fat fledged maximum calorie cookies” like a sane person. Don’t waste the gift of taste on something diet. That’s just crazy. In closing, I read in a highly creditable nutritional magazine that diet and reduced calorie items were invented by Satan. Egg On! Ramblin’ Rooster

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March 30, 2009 at 4:03 am

Italian Food and Surgery Shows

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You don’t know this, (and honestly she doesn’t either) but my wife hates me. I like to believe that it’s on a subconscious-subconscious level, (like super-subconscious) but I can’t tell without an autopsy, (which she’s totally against by the way). Oh no, her choice of programming is starting to effect me, but it’s not her fault, she’s only watching television. I’ve said it before, the wife loves crime-surgery-murder-investigation-forensic-makeover-shows and really who can blame her.

 

I couldn’t care myself. I’m usually reading or I’m on the computer or whatever, so what she’s watching isn’t really a concern of mine. So how is it that she can still seem to torture me with her viewing habits?

 

It’s simple; she turns on the really sickening shows every time we eat Italian food. I think you can agree with me that Italian food is best eaten in a room free from reference to anything even remotely disgusting from the inner body. Blood, guts, tissue and fat are things you really can’t see while eating spaghetti or something.

 

I suppose all food is better without the gore and horror of surgery, but Italian food has the most likeness to the insides of humans. Marinara sauce, cheese and watching someone having their 100 pound “apron” cut off or some lady getting liposuction just don’t mix. You can try and hide your eyes, but once you’ve seen it, there’s no getting it out of your mind, (or the idea out of your mouth).

 

Someone out there in the blog reading world is saying, “None of this would matter if we’d just become a little more civilized and eat at the table.” Perhaps turn off the television and invite the kids? Sit at the table and talk to each other, (between mouthfuls of course)?

 

You’re right, that would greatly reduce the risk of me vomiting, but on the other hand if I did that, then I will lose my alibi for the reason of why I threw up. “No honey, I love your cooking, it was the sound of the vacuum sucking up the fat that pushed me over the edge.”

 

Egg On!

Ramblin’ Rooster

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March 29, 2009 at 5:48 am

Hapless Homeless Herbage

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This blog isn’t about unfortunate, homeless, plants, so if that’s what you came here for I’m sorry. I know, the title is misleading, but I thought it was funny. I’m weird like that. This piece is about homeless people. I think about them a lot. I think it’s because I seem to always cross paths with them and when I do, they seem to take an instant liking to me. I think it’s because I smile at them, either that or the fact that I always listen to their stories. Perhaps it’s just because of my “kind, non-judgmental eyes” that I lay on them. Who knows, maybe it’s because I smell like tuna fish.

 

I’ve always wondered if homeless people ever worry about their stuff being stolen by other people. I don’t know if you ever seen where the homeless hangout, but they accumulate a lot of stuff. It’s almost like it’s their home without a home.

 

I came across some rather funny literature the other day that had to do with homeless people, but I need to set this up first…

 

There are two money hungry entities in the world of municipal improvement. They would be professional engineers and contractors. Each one has a strong blood lust for money. The engineer wants a big fee to use his/her brain to design a road or utility to “help” all of mankind, so noble in deed, I question not my city for handing over my tax money. The contractor is like a small baby, but instead of sitting on the floor crying they just say, “I need more money.” The bottom line of construction projects is how much money can I get and spending money figuring out who’s going to pay for this and that. Enter the stimulus package and every municipality in America came up with 500 million dollars of improvements they needed. One of which was a major highway interchange replacement. Highways that had bridges. Bridges that had homeless people sleeping underneath them, or rather living underneath them.

 

Now this paper that I came across was comments from the Department of Transportation to the engineer asking questions about the project. The one that I found to be shocking and outrageous was, “Who is responsible for the relocation of the homeless and how is it to be paid for?” The answer was, “Usually they just leave the area when construction starts, but if needed the police of highway patrol can be called in.”

 

So if you want a job that deals with ridiculous questions and thoughtless, money driven goals, by all means become involved in civil improvements, you won’t stop laughing and shaking your head.

 

Egg On!

Ramblin’ Rooster

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March 28, 2009 at 3:14 am

Quitting Smoking: Easy As Cutting Off Your Head

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I’ve been a smoker for the majority of my life, meaning I’ve smoked for more years than not while being on this planet. It’s rather odd when you think about it in that way. It really makes you marvel at the durability of the human body or question the detrimental effects of smoking. I’m leaning towards the amazing power of the human body to overcome toxins. Three weeks ago, (as of yesterday) I quit. This is not the longest I’ve ever stopped, but certainly the best attempt I’ve made in the last decade.

 

Quitting smoking is easy. You just simply stop participating in the act. I won’t fight you if you want to punch me in the face for saying that. I know it sounds stupid, much like, “Guns don’t kill people, people kill people”. Its statements like this that make people kill people. On the other hand, it really is odd that the hard part about not smoking is the mind games, because that’s all that remains. That’s the part that no one ever seems to talk about. It’s always the nicotine cravings and your daily routine and this and that and blah, blah, blah, but in the end it’s nothing more than you and your inner voice duking it for the rest of your life. That’s the part that I never seem to be able to deal with. Much like cutting off your head, it’s easy to do in theory, but hard to actually do the cutting.

 

Perhaps you’re wondering if I used an aid, perhaps you stopped reading a paragraph ago. Either way, I did use an aid, but not what you think, (probably). I didn’t use the patch or gum or even medication. No, I used a fake cigarette. It’s an electronic cigarette that emits a “harmless” vapor. Of course I think it’s only harmless to the second-handers, but really, as a smoker, what do I care. There are cartridges that you load into this battery device that deliver the “vapor” and the vapor contains nicotine. The idea, much like all the cessation aids, is to “wean” yourself off the real cigarettes.

 

I’m using the “high” nicotine cartridges and have no intention of weaning myself anywhere. Once the gross of cartridges I have is gone, I’m done. I think I’ve gotten over the “shakes and sweats” or kicking, so all that’s left is the self contained, all mental, life long argument of, “Have a cigarette. No! Have a cigarette. No! Have a cigarette. No!”

 

I will say the electronic cigarette is pretty nifty as a gimmicky thing and it has helped me to stop, (I guess). Ironically, the packaging that comes with the cigarette says that it’s not intended for trying to quit. Liability I guess, but who knows. I will say that it’s expensive and somewhat cumbersome to keep up with, especially if you’re an all day smoker. I would recommend getting the cigar over the cigarette though, the cartridges last longer and you get more “vapor”.

 

The draw backs? Now that I’m free to smoke anywhere I want, I find myself doing it all the time. I never smoked in my house because of my kids, but now that it’s harmless, I’m a vapor chimney. I vaporize at the office, in my car, in stores and just about everywhere I go. I vaporize twice as much as I smoked. I fear that I’ll have to use vapor patches to wean myself from the electronic device. The other one, and this is very vain I suppose, is the fact that I feel somewhat silly. For all practical purposes, I’m fake smoking. Is it better than lung cancer? Absolutely. Does it matter when I’m standing outside with real smokers and I’ve got this light up toy? Not really, but like I said, it beats dying.

 

What can I say, nothing is cooler than smoking a REAL cigarette.

 

Egg On!

Ramblin’ Rooster

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March 27, 2009 at 3:25 am

This is My Phone Voice

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“Hello? Yes, this is he. Oh, hello Mr. Carlsberg, how are you?” OK, I guess that’s pathetic to think that you’d get anything auditory from that. Truth is, writing about the sound of people’s voices is probably not one of my best ideas, but that’s never stopped me before. If I had to guess, and I do, I bet you had the voice pretty close to what I was after in your head. If not, then maybe you’ll have it perfect by the time I’m done.

 

The phone voice is by far one of the funniest things I’ve witnessed in my life. I have a friend whose phone voice is two, if not three, octaves higher than his “street” voice. He even uses his phone voice when talking to his family, his immediate family no less.

 

If you’ve ever listened to the radio, no doubt you’ve heard the “Sunday! Sunday! Sunday! Monster Truck Rally Speed Boat Bikini Gun Show Extravaganza!” voice, the slimy, super-salesman voice that makes real life, used car, salesman seem friendly. We all know that no one talks like that in real life. If you met someone that spoke to you in that voice you’d excuse yourself if not punch them in the face. So why then do people still employ the phone voice? We all know it’s fake, so we’re not impressed or fooled. If anything it’s unprofessional to be so patronizing. So it moves from slightly disrespectful to downright creepy when regular citizens in the private sector use the phone voice behind closed doors of their residence.

 

The phone is another source that let’s me know I’m all alone, (while being constantly surrounded) in this world. I feel like I’m the only person that answers the phone using the voice I use to talk with everyday. Even more so, I use my normal voice when placing calls as well. It doesn’t matter to me who I’m calling or talking to. The number of voices I have to communicate on an everyday level is one.

 

Sometimes I even get annoyed when I call some place and get a chipper-skipper on the line whose sunshine voice is deafening despite the lack of excessive volume. I’m calling about a clamp for my washing machine. I don’t need to be greeted by a voice reminiscent of Saturday morning cartoon characters. Just talk to me like we know each other, like I couldn’t care less about the inflection of your tone.

 

Come off it phone people. We all know that’s not your real voice, so stop using it and just be yourself. It will take you a lot further.

 

Egg On!

Ramblin’ Rooster

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March 26, 2009 at 4:01 am

Juvenile Mind Always A Good Time

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The only time I hear “being juvenile” used is when some is trying to insult an adult. No one ever has the exchange of words, “Hey look at little Timmy over there throwing sand. It’s getting everywhere.” “Oh, it’s OK, he’s just being juvenile.” Once again our culture has taken a word and given it negative connotation and a contradictory definition. Most of the time a juvenile mind is an adult that has a “dirt mind”. It’s like the two are synonymous. What’s worse is that it’s pretty much true.

 

I guess the reason for it is that teenagers only think about sex and anything that even remotely deals with something taboo or sounds like it might be about something taboo, they giggle. It’s like an inside joke. A juvenile isn’t mature enough to talk about serious “dirt things”.

 

It’s too bad that juvenile minds couldn’t be in reference to wanting to play on the slide or to be free of stress and worry. A juvenile doesn’t get bogged down by taxes or mortgages, (not only for the fact that they don’t have them) because their minds are in a different place, a lighthearted place. A juvenile mind should mean one that wants to create, have fun, frolic and to be happy. Not something to try and shun your neighbor’s actions. “Oh he’s just so juvenile!”

 

I suffer from M.J.M.S. (or momentary juvenile mind syndrome) from time to time. I don’t giggle at “wood” or “erect” or other words of insinuating perversion, but my mind is a little filthy. Take today, here’s a good example, I saw a new car on the street with the name ‘Uplander’. Nothing to incriminating about that, but yet it seemed to dance on the edge of something vulgar. I think it’s the “up” part. I’m not really sure, but it just seems to be reminiscent of “Shove it up your…” lander? Which isn’t bad, “Oh yeah? Stick it up your lander!” I can see it catching on in three to one hundred years.

 

Here lies the problem with the dirty mind. There’s no end to it. Pretty much everything you can say can be twisted into something dirty. You have to admit that the times are changing and perversion of all kinds is much more open, expressed, visible and viable today in ways that it never was in the past. So with that comes a degree of being desensitized to what might have been offensive in the past. This combined with the “world advertising dollar” going after younger and younger consumers; the result couldn’t be anything less than juvenile.

 

Through it all though, I maintain that a good juvenile laugh from time to time can be refreshing. Laughter is good for the body, mind and spirit, so does it matter where the laugh comes from? Is laughing at a good clean joke better than laughing at a racy one?

 

The next time you see me driving or sitting alone and I’m laughing, it’s probably a sign of something juvenile happening in my head. If it bothers you can stick it up your lander!

 

 

Egg On!

Ramblin’ Rooster

 

 

 

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March 25, 2009 at 3:17 am