Of God and Grease part II
05/06/08 17:53
Now as stated earlier it
wouldn’t really be fair to judge a nations food culture
by the lowest denominator. And in all fairness I’ve
been presented with food worthy of… Of… Of someone
really important (and little old me). But it isn’t
always easy to find, so I’ll star out by giving a few
pointers as to how one succeeds in finding the good
food in America.
Ask the locals.
A good first try is always the receptionist or the doorman, depending on the quality of the hotel. They’ll usually be able to tell you of a few places - and often they’ll be able to tell you the different price ranges as well.
Another option is stopping people on the street, the problem about this approach is that they’ll often be so surprised by both you and your accent that they’ll direct you to the nearest McDonald’s, and lets face it: if you wanted foods equivalent to a poke in the eye, you probably wouldn’t have travelled this far to get it.
Last option would be to ask a police officer, which is kind of a fifty/fifty gamble in my experience. In the south they’ll be more than happy to help - but the ones I’ve encountered in the east coast are basically morons. They seem like they would consider arresting you for obstruction of justice if coughed up blood while trying to report like you got shot in the lung. Now That might just be me who’ve had a few bad experiences, but nevertheless, these are my experiences.
The Chamber of Commerce.
If you have access to the internet and you have a good idea of we’re you’re gonna stay for the night, I suggest that you googlesearch the name of the city/neighborhood you’ll be in and add ‘Chamber of Commerce’ to the search. In my experience this will provide you with the names of all the restaurants and cafes in the area, and often - as an added bonus: reviews.
Everything is available on the internet - even a grading of Suzy’s famous Pecan Pie,the one that is only made two times a week and served cold with sour cream on mondays and wednesdays in The Voodoo Tavern in St. Louis Mississippi.
Abe’s Barbecue - Abe’s Spareribs
Robert Johnson used to say he sold his soul to the devil at the crossroads. Well just 250 feet further down the road , Abe - according to local legend offered his to the lord. And no matter how much respect and love for I have for the blues and Mr. Johnson, I’m gonna have to side with Abe and his barbecue ribs on this one.
The Crossroads are located in Clarksdale in the Mississippi Delta, and should you ever be around the neighborhood I recommend you go visit Abe’s Barbecue.
It’s slowcooked pork - maybe been cooking at low heat for roughly seven hours by the time it arrives at my plate. It is joined by it’s wonderful and yet simple sidekick, Miller Lite. In all its greasy goodness it’s been dipped in Abe’s special sweet honey/mustard barbecue sauce, and next to it is a bowl of freshly made coleslaw. Hell, I just might be going back myself.
Champlin’s - The Clam Bake in Point Judith.
South of
Providence, against the Atlantic Coast lies a small
town that is really most famous for it’s lighthouse;
Point Judith. Besides having a beautiful sandy beach
there is also culinary reason to visit - actually the
food at the Champlin’s restaurant is reason enough by
itself.
This was indeed the meal of a lifetime with everything the ocean has to offer. Clams, muscles, Oysters and lobster. Everything on the plate had been caught the same day and had been delivered directly from the fisherman’s boat into the kitchens private loading dock.
It’s served on a brown plastic platter, and everything is mixed into one delightful celebration of the sea. You’ll get a second platter filled with sauces, spice mixes and water to rinse the muscles and oysters before you eat them.
And with every bite the guys took. With every exclamation of pleasure and delight they uttered the more I regretted the fact that I was hungover and didn’t have the same. But I could barely keep down my fish’n’chips - which by the way were delicious as well.
The Pancake Pantry - Pancake Parisienne.
In the Hillsborough
of Nashville, Tennessee lies The Pancake Pantry. It’s
located a few blocks from the famous Vanderbilt
University, and hosts a collection of thrift stores,
antique shops, bookstores and restaurants. It also
hosts some great microbreweries that have restaurants
as well. But on one of the corners of this three block
market area is a special gift to those of us who enjoy
a little something every once in a while: The Pancake
Pantry.
It isn’t impressive to look at - nor is it hideous. It’s just anonymous, which makes it even more strange on first sight. It opens at 8 am and closes at 10 pm. But from around 9 am the line starts forming, and half an hour later there’ll be a 45 minute wait to get in - and this then lasts all day.
Now, on first look it can seem a bit strange that there is a huge line going into an anonymously looking red brick warehouse, but believe me - this is no ordinary place. It is the Pancake Pantry - the Palace of Pancakes, the original sinner of flattened circular goodness, and it comes in so many delightful forms, tastes and even sensations.
Everybody at the table had different sorts of delights, and I was particularly hungry because I had spent 45 minutes playing baseball on a Nintendo Wii (!). I orderes the Pancake Parisienne, briefly described as european style pancakes with strawberrry and cream - and they even threw in a cup of french roast as a little pick me up!
Is was deeeeeee-licious! The pancakes had a bit of vanilla, a little orange just enough cardamom to make you fall in love with whoever was sitting across the table. To top of this feast, they at put whipped cream and strawberry sauce on the top. It was so bloody good that I at this moment, sitting in Washington DC, consider packing up my stuff and get on the train to Nashville for a second serving.
A good tip however is: get there before 9 am, unless you wanna stand in line for 30-45 minutes, although that is a small price to pay.
The black Pearl - Clam Chowder and Bloody Mary.
A twenty minute
drive from above mentioned Point Judith, lies the small
coastal town of Newport, Rhode Island. The Black Pearl
itself is located in the small cosy 18th century harbor
environment by the bay. It is an anonymous dark
building with a wooden sign hanging lazyli out over the
door. It creeks as it should, and when you enter -
which is a VERY good idea, considering the quality of
the food they have - you’ll enter a small diner with
wooden tables and the characteristic smell of the
chowder.
Once there, and only had a late lunch, order the White Clam Chowder and a Bloody Mary. It might sound scary but somehow the combination just explodes and sends you off to seafood heaven.
The Chowder itself, is a cream based muscle soup. It has lobster, white wine, maybe a little green but not much. It is served with a few crackers - and should you prefer it the waiter will grind some fresh pepper on top. I did and it was delicious.
Simple, good produce and served in a good atmosphere. And cost roughly 12$ per person. And you’ll be hard pressed to find it better.
Brett Favre’s Steak House - The Brett Favre Signature Steak.
At the foot of
Mount Lambeau (Field), lies the steak house owned by
former Green Bay Packers quarterback Brett Favre. Like
a little stream of crystal clear springwater, Favre
Pass - as it is called, ends in the steak house. It
honors the Mississippi tradition that Mr. Favre grew up
with, which in this case means excellent (an huge
amount of) meat - and cajun spices. And with these
traditions im ind you really can’t go wrong.
And boy, oh boy did they do it right!
I ordered Brett’s Signature Steak, which is 20 oz (550 grams) of prime beef. It was more tender than some of the Kobe meat I’ve had the pleasure of eating, and the butter sauteed mushrooms and sweet potatoes that accompanied this monstrosity just made things even better!
I ordered (as I have grown accustomed to) a Miller Lite - draught - and just threw myself into the game. And what a fight it was. There in the hall of one of my biggest idols - and it was a hall of tribute, with pictures of his achievements all over the place - I singlehandedly took out what seemed impossible.
It was also, I think, the closest I’ve ever been to death by cow - including once at my grandparents farm where I outran a pissed off bull called Thomas. But had I died it would have been worth it.
The Deepwater Grill - The Black Angus Burger .
Way up north, by the frozen edge of Lake Superior, in the small town of Ashland, lies a microbrewery called The Deepwater. If you should ever find yourself in chicago I suggest you take the 370 mile drive up there. It’ll take you roughly eight hours each way, but I promise you: it’s worth it!
The burger is a freshly baked roll served with just basic tomatoes, lettuce onions and mushrooms. You’ll have a choice of different sides like mashed potatoes, fries or salad. That’ll always be a personal decision - but the important thing in this place is was you drink!
The Deepwater Grill is not only a restaurant, it is also a microbrewery. They brew different beers (obviously) but the one you’ll need for the burger is the Indian Pale Ale. It is one of the best I’ve ever had, and with the enormous black angus beef and the freshly baked, homemade roll it just makes you lean back, grab your beer and think that maybe life just aint that terrible after all.
And after you’ve a had seconds, thirds - whatever you feel appropriate - walk down to Lake Superior and catch the sunset. This is the area the Chippewa indians fell in love with hundreds of years ago, and I have a pretty good idea that the sunset played a big part in that.
The combination of a burger, the cold beer and the golden sunset of Lake Superior is something that every man (and woman) should be allowed to experience.
It really just takes us back to the fact that we don’t need big things. Sometimes getting the small ones right is much better. And for me on that april night, having a burger, serves with fries and a cold beer just made the difference. And as the sun set over Superior I thought to myself.
Hell, this just isn’t too bad after all.
Ask the locals.
A good first try is always the receptionist or the doorman, depending on the quality of the hotel. They’ll usually be able to tell you of a few places - and often they’ll be able to tell you the different price ranges as well.
Another option is stopping people on the street, the problem about this approach is that they’ll often be so surprised by both you and your accent that they’ll direct you to the nearest McDonald’s, and lets face it: if you wanted foods equivalent to a poke in the eye, you probably wouldn’t have travelled this far to get it.
Last option would be to ask a police officer, which is kind of a fifty/fifty gamble in my experience. In the south they’ll be more than happy to help - but the ones I’ve encountered in the east coast are basically morons. They seem like they would consider arresting you for obstruction of justice if coughed up blood while trying to report like you got shot in the lung. Now That might just be me who’ve had a few bad experiences, but nevertheless, these are my experiences.
The Chamber of Commerce.
If you have access to the internet and you have a good idea of we’re you’re gonna stay for the night, I suggest that you googlesearch the name of the city/neighborhood you’ll be in and add ‘Chamber of Commerce’ to the search. In my experience this will provide you with the names of all the restaurants and cafes in the area, and often - as an added bonus: reviews.
Everything is available on the internet - even a grading of Suzy’s famous Pecan Pie,the one that is only made two times a week and served cold with sour cream on mondays and wednesdays in The Voodoo Tavern in St. Louis Mississippi.
Abe’s Barbecue - Abe’s Spareribs
Robert Johnson used to say he sold his soul to the devil at the crossroads. Well just 250 feet further down the road , Abe - according to local legend offered his to the lord. And no matter how much respect and love for I have for the blues and Mr. Johnson, I’m gonna have to side with Abe and his barbecue ribs on this one.
The Crossroads are located in Clarksdale in the Mississippi Delta, and should you ever be around the neighborhood I recommend you go visit Abe’s Barbecue.
It’s slowcooked pork - maybe been cooking at low heat for roughly seven hours by the time it arrives at my plate. It is joined by it’s wonderful and yet simple sidekick, Miller Lite. In all its greasy goodness it’s been dipped in Abe’s special sweet honey/mustard barbecue sauce, and next to it is a bowl of freshly made coleslaw. Hell, I just might be going back myself.
Champlin’s - The Clam Bake in Point Judith.
This was indeed the meal of a lifetime with everything the ocean has to offer. Clams, muscles, Oysters and lobster. Everything on the plate had been caught the same day and had been delivered directly from the fisherman’s boat into the kitchens private loading dock.
It’s served on a brown plastic platter, and everything is mixed into one delightful celebration of the sea. You’ll get a second platter filled with sauces, spice mixes and water to rinse the muscles and oysters before you eat them.
And with every bite the guys took. With every exclamation of pleasure and delight they uttered the more I regretted the fact that I was hungover and didn’t have the same. But I could barely keep down my fish’n’chips - which by the way were delicious as well.
The Pancake Pantry - Pancake Parisienne.
It isn’t impressive to look at - nor is it hideous. It’s just anonymous, which makes it even more strange on first sight. It opens at 8 am and closes at 10 pm. But from around 9 am the line starts forming, and half an hour later there’ll be a 45 minute wait to get in - and this then lasts all day.
Now, on first look it can seem a bit strange that there is a huge line going into an anonymously looking red brick warehouse, but believe me - this is no ordinary place. It is the Pancake Pantry - the Palace of Pancakes, the original sinner of flattened circular goodness, and it comes in so many delightful forms, tastes and even sensations.
Everybody at the table had different sorts of delights, and I was particularly hungry because I had spent 45 minutes playing baseball on a Nintendo Wii (!). I orderes the Pancake Parisienne, briefly described as european style pancakes with strawberrry and cream - and they even threw in a cup of french roast as a little pick me up!
Is was deeeeeee-licious! The pancakes had a bit of vanilla, a little orange just enough cardamom to make you fall in love with whoever was sitting across the table. To top of this feast, they at put whipped cream and strawberry sauce on the top. It was so bloody good that I at this moment, sitting in Washington DC, consider packing up my stuff and get on the train to Nashville for a second serving.
A good tip however is: get there before 9 am, unless you wanna stand in line for 30-45 minutes, although that is a small price to pay.
The black Pearl - Clam Chowder and Bloody Mary.
Once there, and only had a late lunch, order the White Clam Chowder and a Bloody Mary. It might sound scary but somehow the combination just explodes and sends you off to seafood heaven.
The Chowder itself, is a cream based muscle soup. It has lobster, white wine, maybe a little green but not much. It is served with a few crackers - and should you prefer it the waiter will grind some fresh pepper on top. I did and it was delicious.
Simple, good produce and served in a good atmosphere. And cost roughly 12$ per person. And you’ll be hard pressed to find it better.
Brett Favre’s Steak House - The Brett Favre Signature Steak.
And boy, oh boy did they do it right!
I ordered Brett’s Signature Steak, which is 20 oz (550 grams) of prime beef. It was more tender than some of the Kobe meat I’ve had the pleasure of eating, and the butter sauteed mushrooms and sweet potatoes that accompanied this monstrosity just made things even better!
I ordered (as I have grown accustomed to) a Miller Lite - draught - and just threw myself into the game. And what a fight it was. There in the hall of one of my biggest idols - and it was a hall of tribute, with pictures of his achievements all over the place - I singlehandedly took out what seemed impossible.
It was also, I think, the closest I’ve ever been to death by cow - including once at my grandparents farm where I outran a pissed off bull called Thomas. But had I died it would have been worth it.
The Deepwater Grill - The Black Angus Burger .
Way up north, by the frozen edge of Lake Superior, in the small town of Ashland, lies a microbrewery called The Deepwater. If you should ever find yourself in chicago I suggest you take the 370 mile drive up there. It’ll take you roughly eight hours each way, but I promise you: it’s worth it!
The burger is a freshly baked roll served with just basic tomatoes, lettuce onions and mushrooms. You’ll have a choice of different sides like mashed potatoes, fries or salad. That’ll always be a personal decision - but the important thing in this place is was you drink!
The Deepwater Grill is not only a restaurant, it is also a microbrewery. They brew different beers (obviously) but the one you’ll need for the burger is the Indian Pale Ale. It is one of the best I’ve ever had, and with the enormous black angus beef and the freshly baked, homemade roll it just makes you lean back, grab your beer and think that maybe life just aint that terrible after all.
And after you’ve a had seconds, thirds - whatever you feel appropriate - walk down to Lake Superior and catch the sunset. This is the area the Chippewa indians fell in love with hundreds of years ago, and I have a pretty good idea that the sunset played a big part in that.
The combination of a burger, the cold beer and the golden sunset of Lake Superior is something that every man (and woman) should be allowed to experience.
It really just takes us back to the fact that we don’t need big things. Sometimes getting the small ones right is much better. And for me on that april night, having a burger, serves with fries and a cold beer just made the difference. And as the sun set over Superior I thought to myself.
Hell, this just isn’t too bad after all.
|
Of God and Grease.
03/06/08 14:07
I think it’s about time
that I share some of the delightful cuisine that we
have encountered on our way. Like all other places I’ve
been there have been good and bad, but please remember
I come for a culture where vegetarianism is considered
a mild eating disorder and giving someone a pound of
meat is the last step before marriage. So my evaluation
might be a bit biased.
I have divided them into two groups: The Greasers and The Champions. The Greasers aren’t necessarily bad, they’re just greasy - and often so does the service. But lets face it - grease is love.
So without (much) further ado I give you:
Kristian’s list of Roadside Greasers:
Burger King - Cornfed beef with grease, served with a side of carelessness and a big glas of ineptitude.
Sometimes when you walk into a Fast Food restaurant every bone, every fiber in your body just begs you to leave and find some real food. Obviously this is in vain - lets face it: if you wanted something that could sustain you wouldn’t be there in the first place.
But this was one of those places. As soon as we came in we get a queasy feeling. The guy swapping the floor is picking his nose, the manager is yelling across the diner that he really needs to stop picking his nose - and the only other customer in there has a contorted look in his eyes, that just gets worse for every time he chews. It looks as if his burger is trying to yank out his teeth, one at a time.
I really don’t think I’ll be going back there any time soon.
Sonic - Dunno, you try ordering a burger through an intercom in a language you don’t understand.
It started like this:
Lady in speaker: “*Scratch*, *rish*, *rish* welcome *scratch*, *beeeep* Sonic, *raaab*. Y’all want mayonnaise?”
I look desperately at Jacob who is trying to apply his knowledge of sanskrit to understand the lady. Especially the mayonnaise threw us of - this in the light of the fact that we hadn’t even ordered yet. But we were hungry as hell and decided to give it a try . So I hesitantly stutter: I would like one Bacon Cheese Burger Menu, a Caesar Salad please and two bottles of water please.
Lady in the speaker: *weeeeeeeep*, *boink*, *phone ringing*, Banana mustard and mayonnaise with the...
And I’m hit by a static noise that almost turns over our car, practically blinds me and definitely messes up Jacob hairdo. Trying to recover from the deafening noise I yell to her:
Kristian: No I just want burgers and fries please!
For two blissful seconds everything is quiet, and then a clear voice comes through the speaker:
Lady in the speaker: I know that Sir, do you want a milkshake, soda or mayonnaise with the order sir?
The blast of clarity is hard, and as this point I am utterly incapable of recovering. I wave the white flag and say:
Kristian: I’ll take a shake, mayo and a coke for the salad please....
Quiet for two seconds...
Lady in the speaker: Thank you Sir, that will be 9.87$. And Sir - you’re heading the wrong way in the drive through - please move your vehicle for the other customers to get out...
It turns out that every entrance to the Sonic diners are a one way street and that each parking spot has a radio and speaker for ordering. I had apparently parked across three of these without noticing.
Oh, and that night we had hamburgers, with a side of fries, Mountain Dew but no Mayo.
The little place in the Adirondacks I can’t remember the name of - Papa Bear burger.
We’d been driving around the Adirondacks all day and were beginning to feel the hunger known only to those who travel the frontiers - those brave enough to actually go where AT & T have no coverage, and where the internet doesn’t support streaming video. We found this little roadside diner - the first one we saw that was open out of season, and decided to go in. It looked like a place you’d find in Twin Peaks: that is - in the later episodes with the spirits and the cabin in the woods, Windom Earle and ‘Fire Walk With Me-Bob’. Great place for a Chef’s Salad, eh?
Well we get in - it’s a nice and comfortable place - and the waiter gives us the menus. Jacob quickly spots the Chef’s Salad and I’m just about to order that as well... But then I see it: up in the top right corner of the two page menu is the burger section. And right there is a burger called ‘The Mama Bear’. It looks good and I mean - it’s a mama bear how dangerous can that be? But wait there is an arrow pointing to the back page of the menu!
As you know, being an explorer takes commitment - so I travel to the last page of the menu. And as I do I am struck by a the beauty of the beast: THE PAPA BEAR BURGER!
It’s a big ass slap of meat, with sauteed onions, mushrooms, bacon and so much gravy that you could probably keep small class supertanker afloat in there. I look at Jacob who just ordered his salad and think to myself that I ought to order the salad. There is no way that I can eat that thing. It looks disgusting, unhealthy, will probably cause respiratory problems from the first bite and without doubt affect my already failing short term memory.
Later driving away from the place I thank god I had a piece of that greasy goodness and try to assure my self that even though I did finish The Papa Bear burger, it’s still not ok for me to devour Jacob as celebratory snack.
Whataburger - The Triple Everything.
I’m not really sure what it was that they served me. I do however remember that every word on the ingredient list was preceded by a ‘triple’, so I think I suffered from either a small stroke or a brain hemorrhage due to excessive intake of grease. But as a rule of thumb: if you should ever find yourself in Pensacola and see a Whataburger on the right side of the road, I suggest you take a sharp left instead. Even if it takes you off a cliff.
Wendy’s - Baconator.
In your average burger you’ll be calculating with a roll, some ground beef, a certain amount of cheese, salads - like tomatoes, pickles, onions - and maybe a wee bit of cheese. So lets assume that we take each of these ingredients and instead insert bacon. You’ll end up with a burger consisting of a roll, some ground beef, bacon, bacon - like bacon, bacon and just a little bit more bacon - oh and a wee bit of bacon.
This celebration of the clotted vein is The Baconator. And if you haven’t tried it please do - it’s delicious.
Red Robin - The Honky Tonk Hot Pork Barbecue Burger.
For the love of God, just look at the name. Of course I’ll try it.
Should you ever find yourself in a position where you are able to avoid this burger, I beg you, please do. Oh, and should you be able to perform an old-school exorcism before you leave I suggest you do - because that really is one mean burger.
The meat is basically shredded pork held together by a patented barbecue grease that - besides being the taste equivalent of being kicked in the nuts - holds it together. It’s served in a sesame bun that is just dry enough to absorb the runaway grease, and then fall apart. And for some odd reason they found it necessary to add gravy to the equation. Bad idea.
The fries kind of looked like the nails for my coffin - I actually did see a hearse driving by while trying to defeat this critter - and tasted like unbaked potato, rolled in salt and molten garlic (which I suspect was what it was).
Huddle House - The Dirt Meal.
I really don’t know what I got, but I’m pretty sure he didn’t either because he was asleep when I got there, and drifted of over the counter the second after he served us. I’m pretty sure there was beef involved, but then again it kinda tasted like to Coca Cola - which really wouldn’t be all bad had it not been for the fact that the Coca Cola tasted dirt.
But the basic lesson from this godforsaken place is that if you ever see an adolescent redneck sleeping across the counter of a small fast food diner in a little worn down craphole of a town - you really shouldn’t wake him up and ask him to cook you dinner.
It all leads me to a passage I read somewhere a long time ago - it might have been the Bible, but I’m not sure:
And the Lord said: behold: I give thee: a butt load of bacon. Behold the dangers and ye shall be fine.
And the people cheered. And those who did not heed the Lords warnings and had a second - they cheered no more. Alas they were screwed over by cardiac arrest and are now feasting at the diner upstairs.
Should there be any need for elaboration on my part please let me know - and this is not all the places we’ve dined in. The list goes on to thirty or forty. These are just representative of what we’ve tried and done.
I have divided them into two groups: The Greasers and The Champions. The Greasers aren’t necessarily bad, they’re just greasy - and often so does the service. But lets face it - grease is love.
So without (much) further ado I give you:
Kristian’s list of Roadside Greasers:
Burger King - Cornfed beef with grease, served with a side of carelessness and a big glas of ineptitude.
Sometimes when you walk into a Fast Food restaurant every bone, every fiber in your body just begs you to leave and find some real food. Obviously this is in vain - lets face it: if you wanted something that could sustain you wouldn’t be there in the first place.
But this was one of those places. As soon as we came in we get a queasy feeling. The guy swapping the floor is picking his nose, the manager is yelling across the diner that he really needs to stop picking his nose - and the only other customer in there has a contorted look in his eyes, that just gets worse for every time he chews. It looks as if his burger is trying to yank out his teeth, one at a time.
I really don’t think I’ll be going back there any time soon.
Sonic - Dunno, you try ordering a burger through an intercom in a language you don’t understand.
It started like this:
Lady in speaker: “*Scratch*, *rish*, *rish* welcome *scratch*, *beeeep* Sonic, *raaab*. Y’all want mayonnaise?”
I look desperately at Jacob who is trying to apply his knowledge of sanskrit to understand the lady. Especially the mayonnaise threw us of - this in the light of the fact that we hadn’t even ordered yet. But we were hungry as hell and decided to give it a try . So I hesitantly stutter: I would like one Bacon Cheese Burger Menu, a Caesar Salad please and two bottles of water please.
Lady in the speaker: *weeeeeeeep*, *boink*, *phone ringing*, Banana mustard and mayonnaise with the...
And I’m hit by a static noise that almost turns over our car, practically blinds me and definitely messes up Jacob hairdo. Trying to recover from the deafening noise I yell to her:
Kristian: No I just want burgers and fries please!
For two blissful seconds everything is quiet, and then a clear voice comes through the speaker:
Lady in the speaker: I know that Sir, do you want a milkshake, soda or mayonnaise with the order sir?
The blast of clarity is hard, and as this point I am utterly incapable of recovering. I wave the white flag and say:
Kristian: I’ll take a shake, mayo and a coke for the salad please....
Quiet for two seconds...
Lady in the speaker: Thank you Sir, that will be 9.87$. And Sir - you’re heading the wrong way in the drive through - please move your vehicle for the other customers to get out...
It turns out that every entrance to the Sonic diners are a one way street and that each parking spot has a radio and speaker for ordering. I had apparently parked across three of these without noticing.
Oh, and that night we had hamburgers, with a side of fries, Mountain Dew but no Mayo.
The little place in the Adirondacks I can’t remember the name of - Papa Bear burger.
We’d been driving around the Adirondacks all day and were beginning to feel the hunger known only to those who travel the frontiers - those brave enough to actually go where AT & T have no coverage, and where the internet doesn’t support streaming video. We found this little roadside diner - the first one we saw that was open out of season, and decided to go in. It looked like a place you’d find in Twin Peaks: that is - in the later episodes with the spirits and the cabin in the woods, Windom Earle and ‘Fire Walk With Me-Bob’. Great place for a Chef’s Salad, eh?
Well we get in - it’s a nice and comfortable place - and the waiter gives us the menus. Jacob quickly spots the Chef’s Salad and I’m just about to order that as well... But then I see it: up in the top right corner of the two page menu is the burger section. And right there is a burger called ‘The Mama Bear’. It looks good and I mean - it’s a mama bear how dangerous can that be? But wait there is an arrow pointing to the back page of the menu!
As you know, being an explorer takes commitment - so I travel to the last page of the menu. And as I do I am struck by a the beauty of the beast: THE PAPA BEAR BURGER!
It’s a big ass slap of meat, with sauteed onions, mushrooms, bacon and so much gravy that you could probably keep small class supertanker afloat in there. I look at Jacob who just ordered his salad and think to myself that I ought to order the salad. There is no way that I can eat that thing. It looks disgusting, unhealthy, will probably cause respiratory problems from the first bite and without doubt affect my already failing short term memory.
Later driving away from the place I thank god I had a piece of that greasy goodness and try to assure my self that even though I did finish The Papa Bear burger, it’s still not ok for me to devour Jacob as celebratory snack.
Whataburger - The Triple Everything.
I’m not really sure what it was that they served me. I do however remember that every word on the ingredient list was preceded by a ‘triple’, so I think I suffered from either a small stroke or a brain hemorrhage due to excessive intake of grease. But as a rule of thumb: if you should ever find yourself in Pensacola and see a Whataburger on the right side of the road, I suggest you take a sharp left instead. Even if it takes you off a cliff.
Wendy’s - Baconator.
In your average burger you’ll be calculating with a roll, some ground beef, a certain amount of cheese, salads - like tomatoes, pickles, onions - and maybe a wee bit of cheese. So lets assume that we take each of these ingredients and instead insert bacon. You’ll end up with a burger consisting of a roll, some ground beef, bacon, bacon - like bacon, bacon and just a little bit more bacon - oh and a wee bit of bacon.
This celebration of the clotted vein is The Baconator. And if you haven’t tried it please do - it’s delicious.
Red Robin - The Honky Tonk Hot Pork Barbecue Burger.
For the love of God, just look at the name. Of course I’ll try it.
Should you ever find yourself in a position where you are able to avoid this burger, I beg you, please do. Oh, and should you be able to perform an old-school exorcism before you leave I suggest you do - because that really is one mean burger.
The meat is basically shredded pork held together by a patented barbecue grease that - besides being the taste equivalent of being kicked in the nuts - holds it together. It’s served in a sesame bun that is just dry enough to absorb the runaway grease, and then fall apart. And for some odd reason they found it necessary to add gravy to the equation. Bad idea.
The fries kind of looked like the nails for my coffin - I actually did see a hearse driving by while trying to defeat this critter - and tasted like unbaked potato, rolled in salt and molten garlic (which I suspect was what it was).
Huddle House - The Dirt Meal.
I really don’t know what I got, but I’m pretty sure he didn’t either because he was asleep when I got there, and drifted of over the counter the second after he served us. I’m pretty sure there was beef involved, but then again it kinda tasted like to Coca Cola - which really wouldn’t be all bad had it not been for the fact that the Coca Cola tasted dirt.
But the basic lesson from this godforsaken place is that if you ever see an adolescent redneck sleeping across the counter of a small fast food diner in a little worn down craphole of a town - you really shouldn’t wake him up and ask him to cook you dinner.
It all leads me to a passage I read somewhere a long time ago - it might have been the Bible, but I’m not sure:
And the Lord said: behold: I give thee: a butt load of bacon. Behold the dangers and ye shall be fine.
And the people cheered. And those who did not heed the Lords warnings and had a second - they cheered no more. Alas they were screwed over by cardiac arrest and are now feasting at the diner upstairs.
Should there be any need for elaboration on my part please let me know - and this is not all the places we’ve dined in. The list goes on to thirty or forty. These are just representative of what we’ve tried and done.
The Corner of 6th Ave and Central Park South - or reclaiming history.
28/05/08 13:34
New York, New York
indeed. The intensity is overwhelming. For every step
you take a cascade of light hits you, engulfing what
ever is left of the fragile identity that fights to
survive within this all consuming plurality.
It’s identity lies in the constant movement of a million souls - all roaming around with the goal of getting somewhere, not in the specific moment, not on the specific day - maybe, and only maybe, they’ll get there in a lifetime. They strive towards the abstract of something dictated by the unknown. They move to avoid the almost ritual devouring of whatever slows down.
As the remnants of the lost souls roam around at night trying to regain the footing of the once prideful existence amongst these predators of predators, the spirit watches in delight as zealots command the fearful initiates into the submission.
Movement is the religion on this secluded place. The spirit of Manhattan has been forced out by the all embracing spirit of the finite - a descendant of The ancient God of Time. In the blind worship of impressions it is hard not to lose yourself - not to be blinded by the light of the grandeur.
But the real art in this temple of multiplicity is to hold on to yourself. With the mind in a state of constant alert, and the senses always challenged by the flow of change, the steady contemplation - the quiet moments in which we define ourselves become as futile as the breath of fresh air.
The traffic is like a nest of snakes, worming its way in an unseen order. The yellow cars weave in and out of traffic with the easy of a lustful thought.
But I will not be blinded - I will not lose myself in the candid flare of this deceitful religion. I will stay true to my own history and leave respectfully. I will keep myself and my demons - in all its imperfectness, with the sole reason that it is mine. Impressed, yes - seduced, no.
It is my firm belief - and I might be an anachronistic, romantic, no good softie SOB - that a community with that little social interaction is not a community. How to you form bonds in the middle of a river, how do you form yourself when you have no time to see, taste or reflect?
It’s time to take back history.
It’s identity lies in the constant movement of a million souls - all roaming around with the goal of getting somewhere, not in the specific moment, not on the specific day - maybe, and only maybe, they’ll get there in a lifetime. They strive towards the abstract of something dictated by the unknown. They move to avoid the almost ritual devouring of whatever slows down.
As the remnants of the lost souls roam around at night trying to regain the footing of the once prideful existence amongst these predators of predators, the spirit watches in delight as zealots command the fearful initiates into the submission.
Movement is the religion on this secluded place. The spirit of Manhattan has been forced out by the all embracing spirit of the finite - a descendant of The ancient God of Time. In the blind worship of impressions it is hard not to lose yourself - not to be blinded by the light of the grandeur.
But the real art in this temple of multiplicity is to hold on to yourself. With the mind in a state of constant alert, and the senses always challenged by the flow of change, the steady contemplation - the quiet moments in which we define ourselves become as futile as the breath of fresh air.
The traffic is like a nest of snakes, worming its way in an unseen order. The yellow cars weave in and out of traffic with the easy of a lustful thought.
But I will not be blinded - I will not lose myself in the candid flare of this deceitful religion. I will stay true to my own history and leave respectfully. I will keep myself and my demons - in all its imperfectness, with the sole reason that it is mine. Impressed, yes - seduced, no.
It is my firm belief - and I might be an anachronistic, romantic, no good softie SOB - that a community with that little social interaction is not a community. How to you form bonds in the middle of a river, how do you form yourself when you have no time to see, taste or reflect?
It’s time to take back history.
The Legend of Howie.
22/05/08 00:01
I’ve been reading the
news back home again, which is never a good idea when
you’re traveling the way I do. Whenever I’m introduced
to something new I do my best to understand it - to
almost to a point of liking it. This obviously has it’s
drawbacks as I often will neglect critical question in
the pursuit of other peoples views. But on the other
hand; being invasively critical never really opened any
doors either.
Well, reading the news back home got me pretty steamed about several things to be honest. But in the interest of keeping this little bundle of joy well under ten pages I’ll focus on one of the items: the news themselves. And oh the shame, the pity the horror...
When reading news in the danish online news community (which is the same as the newspaper), it struck me: this is just another case of Howie! And now you might ask (which would be fair), who in the name of santa’s dented old jingle bells is Howie?
Well you see, Howie is and old adversary of mine. He isn’t an enemy, just kind of a someone I bump into once in while. He comes in many forms and shapes - he has a lot of different meanings - often about diverse subjects. The one thing that seems to be the most special thing about Howie though: I’m the only one who knows he exists. He’s kind of an axiom in my life. He’ll guarantee me the validity of the world as an existing place constituted by real things, in the common sense meaning of course - which holds a certain duality to it, but that’s just Howie’s wicked sense of humor.
Whenever I see something happen, e.g. as a consequence of something else - like in the term causality - imagine a ball dropping, a cueball rolling into the eightball etc. I usually assume that it is due to physics. This is my common sense perception - or understanding of the world. It’s not moral, it’s not oppressive (I mean people are free to claim whatever the heck they want). I mean who cares why a cueball moves, it’s the fact that it does move that matters.
Well, it seems that the same perception rules in the news media in Denmark at the moment. They are very keen on reporting what s going on in the american elections - in fact you’re better of with their numbers than the american news stations, who as a matter of pride seem to serve either DNC or GOP. The danish media on the other hand seem hellbent on reporting things without having the slightest clue as to why they’re actually happening
Hello Howie!
Howie is the secret entity that screws over every visible fact due to misconceptions by the the percieving. Whenever people claim fact due to personal views, I just refer to it as agrument ad Howie. He is the unification of all things immeasurable claimed as part of fact. He is a sly son of a bitch that’ll trick you into believing something based solely on your personal views. He’ll make you assert that seeking inspiration or knowledge before passing judgement is irrelevant - you already know what you need to know.
He is the little bastard who whispers in your ear that those people are wrong and as such their misery is right. In his own right he would probably be a good speechwriter for the reverend Fred Phelps or other mongers of one sided rhetoric and hatred. And once again, I digress...
Back on track we go, sorry about that.
Well, the danish media have gotten into a really bad habit of analyzing everything from a danish point of view - even the mechanics of foreign states. It’s like they’ve been hit by a collective brain hemorrhage, or bitten by The Bat of Righteousness - who happens to be the sidekick of Howie (myth has it he used to be a solipsistic hermit, and flying round infecting people with the seal of the righteousness was a punishment from Howie).
Now in regards to who is winning - be it in eight ball or as the the topic in question: the democratic nominee race - stating who wins really wont take a genius. We know that one of them will eventually come out with the most votes, and we can be pretty sure if the eight ball is hit by the que ball, then it will be affected. It really doesn’t take particularly smart fellow to state this as a fact.
The thing is about these examples - they in themselves are not given motives, and are judged by the laws of causality (who ever wrote them I don’t know but I obviously claim Howie did - on the grounds that he told me). When trying to explain why people vote, or why they pass certain laws - we really need to stop listening to old Howie. He’s always offering his opinion about stuff he doesn’t really understand. Always telling you that it’s just like back home, or just like the time when you did the thing with the guy and everybody was like... You catch my drift, right?
The newspapers in Denmark will tell you that Obama just won this, and that Hilary just won that, but what they haven’t seemed to pick up yet is why the hell it happens. They really haven’t bothered to ask anyone - or as I hope: they haven’t yet found out that they’re wrong by ignorance. The thought of them not printing something due to complexity just pisses me even more off. They really haven’t bothered to analyze why people vote like do and as such leave their readers hanging on to the perception that things are the same.
Well hello Howie!
There is a general misconception that either you’re a rightwing powermonger with a lust for war or a reasonably thinking democrat who would love nothing more than to cuddle up with the growing (morally righteous) european powerblock. This isn’t really the case. I know Howie will say that republican beliefs are based on christianity - an argument actually used with force by George Washington when he left office in the late 18th century, when trying to establish a link to morality from the republic.
He will also tell you that in order to be a member of the Republican Party you’ll need to be a registered gun owner and have a verified disrespect for the value of human life - but an obvious undying love for the unborn. He’ll probably add to the fact that as such you’ll be a strong opponent of political nuances - because with only two parties someone has to.
Again - as this cannot be stressed enough - do not listen to him.
Within the parties are a multitude of voters and states. They all hold claim to several beliefs, but one is the core belief: no one tells us what to do. This stands universal with both democrats and republican voters. They don’t vote for the same things, but the people who I’ve had the pleasure of talking to all vote against one thing: the all powerful state.
The thing is that when applying your own morals to another system of beliefs (and no I do not condone the abuse of women or any other group that examples may provide), you will generally fail to understand - and with the failure to understand, you deprive yourself the basis for change - or at least a very important tool for change.
Understanding is not the same as accepting, this is an important thing to keep in mind. But at least trying without relying on the advice of old Howie seems at the very least a reasonable option, because claiming to be right by default - basically puts us back in ‘ye olde crusade days’, or at least could start a concern that we never really left.
Uhm, kinda lost track again - didn’t I?
The distinction here, in order to understand the issue becomes what one could refer to voting for positives or negatives. By positives one would be affirming what the right thing is by actually voting for it - we do it a lot in Europe. We gather around, trying to define some kind of common good, and then we pass laws to ensure that people do the common good. By listening to Howie we tend to get caught up in it. Howie becomes the validator of the right to pass laws, that dictate the right thing to do.
In the US the traditional method will be the voting of negatives; you vote for what people can’t do - but as stressed to a point of exhaustion: voting for what people have to do is an absolute, top of the line ‘no no’. The perception of a person voting for positives like universal health care, free education - the classic welfare state benefits, tends to be that the lack of these rights is an infringement of universal rights belonging to the individual - and as such anyone opposing these would be morally wrong. But again, that really is Howie whispering the sentiments of an insecure preadolescent fighting for what his hormones dictate is right into your ear.
The voter going for the negatives on the other hand would argue that the positive freedom of one man can be an infringement of the other. He’s not saying that he doesn’t want to help, just that he doesn’t want to be forced to help - or at least he doesn’t want anybody but himself to be able to define when and how to help. He doesn’t pass judgement in the sense that he wants everyone to do as him - but he argues that he at least should have the choice. He doesn’t tell Howie to get bent - nobody really does that. He does however accept the fact that Howie shouldn’t get to legislate - him being anything but the voice of reason and all.
In order to understand the american voter - republican or democrat - this is a critical notion.
And on that note I shall retire. I will be picking up this notion again but now Howie is once again holding my hand, and it’s time for us to share a cold beer and reminisce about the good old days.
Well, reading the news back home got me pretty steamed about several things to be honest. But in the interest of keeping this little bundle of joy well under ten pages I’ll focus on one of the items: the news themselves. And oh the shame, the pity the horror...
When reading news in the danish online news community (which is the same as the newspaper), it struck me: this is just another case of Howie! And now you might ask (which would be fair), who in the name of santa’s dented old jingle bells is Howie?
Well you see, Howie is and old adversary of mine. He isn’t an enemy, just kind of a someone I bump into once in while. He comes in many forms and shapes - he has a lot of different meanings - often about diverse subjects. The one thing that seems to be the most special thing about Howie though: I’m the only one who knows he exists. He’s kind of an axiom in my life. He’ll guarantee me the validity of the world as an existing place constituted by real things, in the common sense meaning of course - which holds a certain duality to it, but that’s just Howie’s wicked sense of humor.
Whenever I see something happen, e.g. as a consequence of something else - like in the term causality - imagine a ball dropping, a cueball rolling into the eightball etc. I usually assume that it is due to physics. This is my common sense perception - or understanding of the world. It’s not moral, it’s not oppressive (I mean people are free to claim whatever the heck they want). I mean who cares why a cueball moves, it’s the fact that it does move that matters.
Well, it seems that the same perception rules in the news media in Denmark at the moment. They are very keen on reporting what s going on in the american elections - in fact you’re better of with their numbers than the american news stations, who as a matter of pride seem to serve either DNC or GOP. The danish media on the other hand seem hellbent on reporting things without having the slightest clue as to why they’re actually happening
Hello Howie!
Howie is the secret entity that screws over every visible fact due to misconceptions by the the percieving. Whenever people claim fact due to personal views, I just refer to it as agrument ad Howie. He is the unification of all things immeasurable claimed as part of fact. He is a sly son of a bitch that’ll trick you into believing something based solely on your personal views. He’ll make you assert that seeking inspiration or knowledge before passing judgement is irrelevant - you already know what you need to know.
He is the little bastard who whispers in your ear that those people are wrong and as such their misery is right. In his own right he would probably be a good speechwriter for the reverend Fred Phelps or other mongers of one sided rhetoric and hatred. And once again, I digress...
Back on track we go, sorry about that.
Well, the danish media have gotten into a really bad habit of analyzing everything from a danish point of view - even the mechanics of foreign states. It’s like they’ve been hit by a collective brain hemorrhage, or bitten by The Bat of Righteousness - who happens to be the sidekick of Howie (myth has it he used to be a solipsistic hermit, and flying round infecting people with the seal of the righteousness was a punishment from Howie).
Now in regards to who is winning - be it in eight ball or as the the topic in question: the democratic nominee race - stating who wins really wont take a genius. We know that one of them will eventually come out with the most votes, and we can be pretty sure if the eight ball is hit by the que ball, then it will be affected. It really doesn’t take particularly smart fellow to state this as a fact.
The thing is about these examples - they in themselves are not given motives, and are judged by the laws of causality (who ever wrote them I don’t know but I obviously claim Howie did - on the grounds that he told me). When trying to explain why people vote, or why they pass certain laws - we really need to stop listening to old Howie. He’s always offering his opinion about stuff he doesn’t really understand. Always telling you that it’s just like back home, or just like the time when you did the thing with the guy and everybody was like... You catch my drift, right?
The newspapers in Denmark will tell you that Obama just won this, and that Hilary just won that, but what they haven’t seemed to pick up yet is why the hell it happens. They really haven’t bothered to ask anyone - or as I hope: they haven’t yet found out that they’re wrong by ignorance. The thought of them not printing something due to complexity just pisses me even more off. They really haven’t bothered to analyze why people vote like do and as such leave their readers hanging on to the perception that things are the same.
Well hello Howie!
There is a general misconception that either you’re a rightwing powermonger with a lust for war or a reasonably thinking democrat who would love nothing more than to cuddle up with the growing (morally righteous) european powerblock. This isn’t really the case. I know Howie will say that republican beliefs are based on christianity - an argument actually used with force by George Washington when he left office in the late 18th century, when trying to establish a link to morality from the republic.
He will also tell you that in order to be a member of the Republican Party you’ll need to be a registered gun owner and have a verified disrespect for the value of human life - but an obvious undying love for the unborn. He’ll probably add to the fact that as such you’ll be a strong opponent of political nuances - because with only two parties someone has to.
Again - as this cannot be stressed enough - do not listen to him.
Within the parties are a multitude of voters and states. They all hold claim to several beliefs, but one is the core belief: no one tells us what to do. This stands universal with both democrats and republican voters. They don’t vote for the same things, but the people who I’ve had the pleasure of talking to all vote against one thing: the all powerful state.
The thing is that when applying your own morals to another system of beliefs (and no I do not condone the abuse of women or any other group that examples may provide), you will generally fail to understand - and with the failure to understand, you deprive yourself the basis for change - or at least a very important tool for change.
Understanding is not the same as accepting, this is an important thing to keep in mind. But at least trying without relying on the advice of old Howie seems at the very least a reasonable option, because claiming to be right by default - basically puts us back in ‘ye olde crusade days’, or at least could start a concern that we never really left.
Uhm, kinda lost track again - didn’t I?
The distinction here, in order to understand the issue becomes what one could refer to voting for positives or negatives. By positives one would be affirming what the right thing is by actually voting for it - we do it a lot in Europe. We gather around, trying to define some kind of common good, and then we pass laws to ensure that people do the common good. By listening to Howie we tend to get caught up in it. Howie becomes the validator of the right to pass laws, that dictate the right thing to do.
In the US the traditional method will be the voting of negatives; you vote for what people can’t do - but as stressed to a point of exhaustion: voting for what people have to do is an absolute, top of the line ‘no no’. The perception of a person voting for positives like universal health care, free education - the classic welfare state benefits, tends to be that the lack of these rights is an infringement of universal rights belonging to the individual - and as such anyone opposing these would be morally wrong. But again, that really is Howie whispering the sentiments of an insecure preadolescent fighting for what his hormones dictate is right into your ear.
The voter going for the negatives on the other hand would argue that the positive freedom of one man can be an infringement of the other. He’s not saying that he doesn’t want to help, just that he doesn’t want to be forced to help - or at least he doesn’t want anybody but himself to be able to define when and how to help. He doesn’t pass judgement in the sense that he wants everyone to do as him - but he argues that he at least should have the choice. He doesn’t tell Howie to get bent - nobody really does that. He does however accept the fact that Howie shouldn’t get to legislate - him being anything but the voice of reason and all.
In order to understand the american voter - republican or democrat - this is a critical notion.
And on that note I shall retire. I will be picking up this notion again but now Howie is once again holding my hand, and it’s time for us to share a cold beer and reminisce about the good old days.
The Concept of Dreaming part II
15/05/08 16:49
What amazes me about
these cultural microcosms that seem to constitute the
american society is that they - unlike in Europe -
really aren’t that geographically specific. They will
meet up in churches, synagogues, bars or sports
stadiums. They’ll have barbecues in the back yard of a
cousins friends house a 100 miles away from their home,
and they will be friends solely because someone has
vouched for them.
So if they say they don’t wanna help, they’re saying they want do it when forced to help. They sure as hell will help though. We went out for a beer with Nathan and Luc, our current hosts - great night out but by the way. The next morning, somewhat hung over I meet Nathan in the kitchen. As I’m just in there to restock on water I ask what he is doing up so early.
It turns out that one of his friend’s father has cancer and the family - due to lack of proper insurance is facing a large debt from the hospital bills. Not really much choice but to lend the money and hope he survives, is there?
Well, his friends, family, colleagues - his cultural microcosm - are doing something. Nathan on that dreadful morning, was on his way to help build a stage for a benefit they were doing, in order to raise money for the guy. They were all coming together as a community, not a state, to help the person and family in need.
Obviously impressed I ask Nathan if this is a common gesture. His answer is simple - and remember that this is a guy that really doesn’t care much for state, taxes and federal government. I should hope so... - and then he shrugs and adds - ... But of course they’re Irish... He smiles and leaves to help a man in need. But he does it because he wants to, not because he has to.
The resentment against being told what to do really does seem to come from their ancestors - as culture and tradition usually does. They were fugitives from oppression and a stagnated society.
People truly believe that if you are unhappy, then you have the possibility on moving to a place that shares your own values - and in many cases this is actually possible. Obviously the truly abandoned and poor people are the ones who are left outside of the communities.
The interesting thing about these communities is that the one of the only place they meet up are at the markets. Through standard market transactions they are somewhat intertwined. The hing is - and everyone realizes this - that there is a huge difference between being morally self sufficient, and being materially self sufficient.
Seeing the microcosms all of a sudden acting dependent on each other, puts the role of the state into a more valid perspective. They need the state to secure their transactions, and even more fundamentally - to allow this transaction of product to take place.
They need the state to interact with other cultural microcosms - with markets as a prime example. The state is there to, literally - and in no way metaphorically - open the world. It needs to secure roads, electricity, security - primarily against foreign enemies as the local law enforcement is often chosen by the people themselves.
It is not there to secure or create beliefs or values as one would expect, that is from a european point of view. As mentioned earlier, the reluctance against higher taxes - even in regards to securing welfare - is in no way to be seen as reluctance to help. It is, plain and simple, a reluctance against being told what to do. The welfare model, like the scandinavian one, is heavily founded in a specific set of values - and this is what they oppose.
A question now comes to mind regarding the immediate connection to part one of this blog:
How does all this relate to the media and democratic nomination proces?
Well, first of all: it does.
In order to understand the elections, one needs to accept the fact that society and the role of the state is fundamentally different in the US - at least when comparing to Europe. The role of the state, and hence the role of the politicians is immensely different.
In Europe we will tend to vote for the people who can guarantee both our safety from outside threats, but just as well on the politicians who represent our views within the state. In the US the vast majority will vote for whoever seems the best bet to secure the way of life that they like, ie. whoever will secure their independent lifestyle within a chosen microcosm.
And this as - in my opinion - the key to understanding the process. If someone talks about raising taxes, raising welfare etc they are in fact telling you what to do. The are legislating in an area where the government and state essentially have no business. It’s not a question of helping or not helping - it’s a question of choosing to help for yourself. It’s a matter of defining what is right for you and your family - not for everyone else.
Now, a case could (and should) be made about the impact of the religious right. In Europe they are vilified and portrayed as self serving crusaders, with a lust for power (whether or not this is true I’ll stay out of). The important thing is that they seem to get backing from a large amount of the american society - a presumption stemming in the fact that the current president got elected twice.
But the crucial point isn’t really that the majority of the american people are religious zealots. The point is that they will vote against whoever wants to tell them what to do - ironically they end up voting along with the christian right wing, but that is probably more a result of a two party system, than them being fundamentalists.
Alas... Once again I digress...
The media I said, right - here goes.
As the voter doesn’t really see the politicians role as that of a traditional european legislator - more like a person making sure that microcosms can exist independently, at least culturally - it would also make some very interesting changes in the way one criticizes the media: especially in Europe.
Now before anyone gets all psyched up about the view that people should mind their own business, lets just calm down. There is no such thing as a perfect society, and I for one, really don’t understand how one gets away with disregarding views as being foreign. The point of a democracy is to listen (and with no intent of being humorous) ant then discarding. Hopefully only due to the fact that you disagree.
The aversion towards being told was to do is, in my opinion, one of the reasons that american debate and coverage really isn’t that much about what a candidate wants to do. It’s often just as much about how the hell he’ll go about doing it. In saying that you intend to legislate you will not only be targeted by your political adversaries but also by those with whom you share values. Because the fundamental value seems to be that you can be anything, and no one has the right to stop you. Only after that does other values take effect.
This fear and loathing of legislating anything with a slight resemblance to morals or values then again affects the media. Because if very few candidates actually say anything, then the talking parrots - and I truly am grateful that they at least are pretty - that we call ‘News anchors’ have no news. So what you’ll do is get a commentator to visit you in the studio to tell the american people what they’re really saying when they’re basically not saying anything.
These commentators are - in all fairness - often open proponents of a given candidate so there really isn’t any intention of deluding the viewer with a sense objectivity. And as long as each side have a representative trying to ‘unmask’ the meaning of both the spoken and unspoken policies, one could presume that this is to be considered a joust among equals.
Well it’s not.
Obviously it’s fair to a lot of people; the anchorman, the commentator (a whole new market pseudo market it seems) - even the candidates seem to acknowledge this habit as an acceptable part of the modern day democracy. And for that mother of all unholy, self sustaining, parasitic triumvirates - things are ok. In fact only one thing has been left out the equation. Guessed who?
The annoying cattle that this whole shebang used be about: the voters!
Oh, and don’t get me started on what happens when corporations and special interests join in - it’s a veritable daisy chain of modern day debauchery....
As I seem to have worked up a steam, I might as well stop for now. Part III will be about what actually does happen when corporation and special interests decide to join the chain gang.
But for now,it’s mashed potatoe time. And that should be entailed by a comatose state on the couch.
Ps: Oops, no pictures in post - my bad
So if they say they don’t wanna help, they’re saying they want do it when forced to help. They sure as hell will help though. We went out for a beer with Nathan and Luc, our current hosts - great night out but by the way. The next morning, somewhat hung over I meet Nathan in the kitchen. As I’m just in there to restock on water I ask what he is doing up so early.
It turns out that one of his friend’s father has cancer and the family - due to lack of proper insurance is facing a large debt from the hospital bills. Not really much choice but to lend the money and hope he survives, is there?
Well, his friends, family, colleagues - his cultural microcosm - are doing something. Nathan on that dreadful morning, was on his way to help build a stage for a benefit they were doing, in order to raise money for the guy. They were all coming together as a community, not a state, to help the person and family in need.
Obviously impressed I ask Nathan if this is a common gesture. His answer is simple - and remember that this is a guy that really doesn’t care much for state, taxes and federal government. I should hope so... - and then he shrugs and adds - ... But of course they’re Irish... He smiles and leaves to help a man in need. But he does it because he wants to, not because he has to.
The resentment against being told what to do really does seem to come from their ancestors - as culture and tradition usually does. They were fugitives from oppression and a stagnated society.
People truly believe that if you are unhappy, then you have the possibility on moving to a place that shares your own values - and in many cases this is actually possible. Obviously the truly abandoned and poor people are the ones who are left outside of the communities.
The interesting thing about these communities is that the one of the only place they meet up are at the markets. Through standard market transactions they are somewhat intertwined. The hing is - and everyone realizes this - that there is a huge difference between being morally self sufficient, and being materially self sufficient.
Seeing the microcosms all of a sudden acting dependent on each other, puts the role of the state into a more valid perspective. They need the state to secure their transactions, and even more fundamentally - to allow this transaction of product to take place.
They need the state to interact with other cultural microcosms - with markets as a prime example. The state is there to, literally - and in no way metaphorically - open the world. It needs to secure roads, electricity, security - primarily against foreign enemies as the local law enforcement is often chosen by the people themselves.
It is not there to secure or create beliefs or values as one would expect, that is from a european point of view. As mentioned earlier, the reluctance against higher taxes - even in regards to securing welfare - is in no way to be seen as reluctance to help. It is, plain and simple, a reluctance against being told what to do. The welfare model, like the scandinavian one, is heavily founded in a specific set of values - and this is what they oppose.
A question now comes to mind regarding the immediate connection to part one of this blog:
How does all this relate to the media and democratic nomination proces?
Well, first of all: it does.
In order to understand the elections, one needs to accept the fact that society and the role of the state is fundamentally different in the US - at least when comparing to Europe. The role of the state, and hence the role of the politicians is immensely different.
In Europe we will tend to vote for the people who can guarantee both our safety from outside threats, but just as well on the politicians who represent our views within the state. In the US the vast majority will vote for whoever seems the best bet to secure the way of life that they like, ie. whoever will secure their independent lifestyle within a chosen microcosm.
And this as - in my opinion - the key to understanding the process. If someone talks about raising taxes, raising welfare etc they are in fact telling you what to do. The are legislating in an area where the government and state essentially have no business. It’s not a question of helping or not helping - it’s a question of choosing to help for yourself. It’s a matter of defining what is right for you and your family - not for everyone else.
Now, a case could (and should) be made about the impact of the religious right. In Europe they are vilified and portrayed as self serving crusaders, with a lust for power (whether or not this is true I’ll stay out of). The important thing is that they seem to get backing from a large amount of the american society - a presumption stemming in the fact that the current president got elected twice.
But the crucial point isn’t really that the majority of the american people are religious zealots. The point is that they will vote against whoever wants to tell them what to do - ironically they end up voting along with the christian right wing, but that is probably more a result of a two party system, than them being fundamentalists.
Alas... Once again I digress...
The media I said, right - here goes.
As the voter doesn’t really see the politicians role as that of a traditional european legislator - more like a person making sure that microcosms can exist independently, at least culturally - it would also make some very interesting changes in the way one criticizes the media: especially in Europe.
Now before anyone gets all psyched up about the view that people should mind their own business, lets just calm down. There is no such thing as a perfect society, and I for one, really don’t understand how one gets away with disregarding views as being foreign. The point of a democracy is to listen (and with no intent of being humorous) ant then discarding. Hopefully only due to the fact that you disagree.
The aversion towards being told was to do is, in my opinion, one of the reasons that american debate and coverage really isn’t that much about what a candidate wants to do. It’s often just as much about how the hell he’ll go about doing it. In saying that you intend to legislate you will not only be targeted by your political adversaries but also by those with whom you share values. Because the fundamental value seems to be that you can be anything, and no one has the right to stop you. Only after that does other values take effect.
This fear and loathing of legislating anything with a slight resemblance to morals or values then again affects the media. Because if very few candidates actually say anything, then the talking parrots - and I truly am grateful that they at least are pretty - that we call ‘News anchors’ have no news. So what you’ll do is get a commentator to visit you in the studio to tell the american people what they’re really saying when they’re basically not saying anything.
These commentators are - in all fairness - often open proponents of a given candidate so there really isn’t any intention of deluding the viewer with a sense objectivity. And as long as each side have a representative trying to ‘unmask’ the meaning of both the spoken and unspoken policies, one could presume that this is to be considered a joust among equals.
Well it’s not.
Obviously it’s fair to a lot of people; the anchorman, the commentator (a whole new market pseudo market it seems) - even the candidates seem to acknowledge this habit as an acceptable part of the modern day democracy. And for that mother of all unholy, self sustaining, parasitic triumvirates - things are ok. In fact only one thing has been left out the equation. Guessed who?
The annoying cattle that this whole shebang used be about: the voters!
Oh, and don’t get me started on what happens when corporations and special interests join in - it’s a veritable daisy chain of modern day debauchery....
As I seem to have worked up a steam, I might as well stop for now. Part III will be about what actually does happen when corporation and special interests decide to join the chain gang.
But for now,it’s mashed potatoe time. And that should be entailed by a comatose state on the couch.
Ps: Oops, no pictures in post - my bad
The Bounties of The Black Pearl
12/05/08 00:40
You feel like sitting
down for a bit, Luc asks me - and I swear I can see
some mischief in his eyes. It’s a saturday afternoon
and we’re walking around Newport, a small coastal town
in Rhode Island. Jacob isn’t here, he was simply to
hung over to endure the 25 minute drive from
Providence, so we left him there, standing all red eyed
and pale skinned, but with the spirit of a soldier who
knows he is doomed, and yet urges his comrades to move
on. Valiantly we see him waving goodbye to us in the
rearview mirror, but we agree that his sacrifice must
not be in vain.
Sure, I say and look around to see what dangers can possible lurk in the shadows of this idyllic little town (having read a lot of Stephen King I know these are the most dangerous of them all). He crosses the street and opens the door to a small, black, wooden building - the shape of a shotgun shack, only older than the the term itself. As I enter I notice the old sign hanging suspended over the door: “Welcome to The Black Pearl”.
You remember I told you about the local chowder, he continues as we sit down at a small table at the far end of the rectangular room - just next to an old couple enjoying a fresh lobster salad and a glass of cool white wine. I recollect talking to him about the cuisine of Rhode Island, and especially how good the seafood is, so I nod reluctantly - not sure if I really need food right now.
Well this is where you get the best damn chowder, and I think I’ll have a Bloody Mary to go along, he says with a smile to the waitress taking our orders. When in Rome, I think to myself and order the same, fearing the repercussions from my body, should I actually choose to drink it. We sit and talk about the history of the area and especially all the lovely food that will be available to us during the next week.
As it turns out Rhode Island is an oasis of delightful food. They have the italian cuisine in the italian part of Providence, they have direct access to the atlantic which provide them with all the different fish and lobsters you could ever wish for, and to top it of the have and almost endless number of bars all around the cities. And just as important: it’s 60 x 77 kilometers in size so everything is available to you on any given day.
But at this very moment the waitress, henceforth known as my guardian angel comes in with my freshly made clam chowder and, after getting my permission, grinds some fresh black pepper on top of it. I look at Luc who is already well into his bowl, and decide to go for it. And in the name of all that’s sacred: if you are ever in Boston (40 minutes by train), New York City (150 minutes by train) or anywhere near the state of Rhode Island do yourself the favor of staying a night, travel to Newport, go to The Black Pearl and order a clam chowder. It is a simple cream based chowder made from clams, potatoes and some seasonings I could not identify. But it was worth the travel and more so.
The Bloody Mary just made it all the better. It was in the spicy end of the Bloody Marys I’ve had, but as a compliment to the fresh pepper and the potatoes and cream it was just perfect. When we leave the establishment full but not overeaten and just a wee bit light headed from meeting Mary I have to concede that Luc was right: They do serve the best damn clam chowder right here in Newport, Rhode Island.
Tomorrow I’ll be serving Luc and Nathan, with whom we are staying, a traditional danish meal: Meatballs with potatoes and a fresh parsley gravy based on butter and milk. Hopefully they’ll enjoy it just half as much as I enjoyed the clam chowder.
Sure, I say and look around to see what dangers can possible lurk in the shadows of this idyllic little town (having read a lot of Stephen King I know these are the most dangerous of them all). He crosses the street and opens the door to a small, black, wooden building - the shape of a shotgun shack, only older than the the term itself. As I enter I notice the old sign hanging suspended over the door: “Welcome to The Black Pearl”.
You remember I told you about the local chowder, he continues as we sit down at a small table at the far end of the rectangular room - just next to an old couple enjoying a fresh lobster salad and a glass of cool white wine. I recollect talking to him about the cuisine of Rhode Island, and especially how good the seafood is, so I nod reluctantly - not sure if I really need food right now.
Well this is where you get the best damn chowder, and I think I’ll have a Bloody Mary to go along, he says with a smile to the waitress taking our orders. When in Rome, I think to myself and order the same, fearing the repercussions from my body, should I actually choose to drink it. We sit and talk about the history of the area and especially all the lovely food that will be available to us during the next week.
As it turns out Rhode Island is an oasis of delightful food. They have the italian cuisine in the italian part of Providence, they have direct access to the atlantic which provide them with all the different fish and lobsters you could ever wish for, and to top it of the have and almost endless number of bars all around the cities. And just as important: it’s 60 x 77 kilometers in size so everything is available to you on any given day.
But at this very moment the waitress, henceforth known as my guardian angel comes in with my freshly made clam chowder and, after getting my permission, grinds some fresh black pepper on top of it. I look at Luc who is already well into his bowl, and decide to go for it. And in the name of all that’s sacred: if you are ever in Boston (40 minutes by train), New York City (150 minutes by train) or anywhere near the state of Rhode Island do yourself the favor of staying a night, travel to Newport, go to The Black Pearl and order a clam chowder. It is a simple cream based chowder made from clams, potatoes and some seasonings I could not identify. But it was worth the travel and more so.
The Bloody Mary just made it all the better. It was in the spicy end of the Bloody Marys I’ve had, but as a compliment to the fresh pepper and the potatoes and cream it was just perfect. When we leave the establishment full but not overeaten and just a wee bit light headed from meeting Mary I have to concede that Luc was right: They do serve the best damn clam chowder right here in Newport, Rhode Island.
Tomorrow I’ll be serving Luc and Nathan, with whom we are staying, a traditional danish meal: Meatballs with potatoes and a fresh parsley gravy based on butter and milk. Hopefully they’ll enjoy it just half as much as I enjoyed the clam chowder.
The Concept of Dreaming part I
05/05/08 22:42
At this point in our
travels I can't help but think about the things we've
experienced - it might be a bit sketchy, but hang on
and you should be fine.
One can read books, write essays, theorize of justice, love or even hatred before visiting - hell it can be done without ever visiting. I seek to judge people by their own standards and not my own, which obviously not objective as my interpretation will always be there. But it is, again in my opinion the best way to understand.
That is what made this journey so fascinating. The US is a country towards which we all have feelings, both good and bad - but with the amount of TV,music, movies, food and whatever you can get, that we’re receiving from the US it is impossible not to feel. And this was (and is) a strong motivational force behind this journey: the attempt to talk to americans.
No agenda in dialogue, no pre(mis)conception as to why people do what they do. Only the perception of what they are doing. By following and listening to the sounds, watching the everyday motions or just experiencing the horizons of the american scenery. The common perceptions of the american individual is that of a strong willed, self centered individual who cares only for himself and his family.
No question about it - this is the place to be if you want to be yourself. This is the country of self expression and individuality, especially compared to Europe.
They’re every bit as social as anything I’ve ever seen. The prejudice/expectation of the society as an almost anti-social place has no place in the real world. I do however have to reemphasize the focus of the query - a query that was never aimed to be scientific, but more that of letting the natives themselves explain to me through their own words what they saw and felt.
By just hanging out with people in the circles they normally fare in, we have been welcomed as guests, and have experienced unlimited hospitality and a enthusiasm for our project that - at least the strength of it - was unexpected.
So what have I found?
I have found communities based on values. America is still big enough to house people of almost opposite opinions. It differs frm Europe in the sense that we - in our seperate countries - are forced to live by values that not all of us agree with. We endure this because we have no choice; there is basically nowhere we can go if we disagree. That possibility still exists in the US - at least geographically. We have had the pleasure of christian hospitality several places. It has not been the christianity so often depicted in the media - the condemning one of the pastor Fred Phelps and his family.
It has been the hospitality of people who believe in not only the values of the bible, but also the word. The reason to emphasize the values are simple: we have also had the pleasure of visiting the ‘not-so-religious’, even atheists. In those circles the hospitality has been the same. The values of treating each other with respect - although disagreeing (through dialogue) - stands just as strong in these communities.
Every community we have visited seems as a tight knit group of individuals who share not only the same values, but also the same beliefs. And the beliefs are the issue when trying to grasp the american dream: at the foundation of all this lies the innate belief that every man gets to decide for himself. And once he has decided he can voice out his beliefs amongst equals, and usually he’ll end up amongst people who not only share his values but also his beliefs.
These groups of people - be they a town or even a parish in the suburbs of a midsized town - stick together and help each other. They are a close knit group coexisting through not only the same values, but also through the same beliefs - be it the Bible, Torah or Darwin’s thoughts on evolution that create the foundation. Within these small conclaves they find the security that entire nations in Europe so desperately seek.
But even though their beliefs are often expressed in the same way, they always differ on other points. There is always something that will keep them from joining up, always something that makes it utterly impossible to live in harmony. Luckily the country is big enough to keep different factions far from each other.
A point could be made that this is not a country - especially in Europe, the role of the state is viewed in a totally different view. Helping in the US seems to be the role of society, not the state. The society in which you reside will keep you afloat. The people with whom you share a core of beliefs will help you in the way that you and they agree upon. Different groups have different ways of helping, but they will help.
In Europe, the role of the state is seen as much more. It is - one could argue - much more invasive. It will tell its citizens what is the right thing to do - how to help. This in turns sounds insane to the average american: they would agree that you always help the people you know who need it, but certainly you cannot be held responsible for someone to who you have no ties.
The issue as such isn’t with helping or solidarity within the different microcosms that constitute the societies - it’s the fact that they totally, utterly disagree on how to help people. And the state has no role in deciding this for individual and hence society.
I think this is enough for now, but I’ve been discussing the role of the media in the light of these things - especially with the democratic nominations going on. In a few days I’ll try to explain the mechanics of the these elections seen through the lenses of the microcosms that constitute the american dream and society.
End of part one.
One can read books, write essays, theorize of justice, love or even hatred before visiting - hell it can be done without ever visiting. I seek to judge people by their own standards and not my own, which obviously not objective as my interpretation will always be there. But it is, again in my opinion the best way to understand.
That is what made this journey so fascinating. The US is a country towards which we all have feelings, both good and bad - but with the amount of TV,music, movies, food and whatever you can get, that we’re receiving from the US it is impossible not to feel. And this was (and is) a strong motivational force behind this journey: the attempt to talk to americans.
No agenda in dialogue, no pre(mis)conception as to why people do what they do. Only the perception of what they are doing. By following and listening to the sounds, watching the everyday motions or just experiencing the horizons of the american scenery. The common perceptions of the american individual is that of a strong willed, self centered individual who cares only for himself and his family.
No question about it - this is the place to be if you want to be yourself. This is the country of self expression and individuality, especially compared to Europe.
They’re every bit as social as anything I’ve ever seen. The prejudice/expectation of the society as an almost anti-social place has no place in the real world. I do however have to reemphasize the focus of the query - a query that was never aimed to be scientific, but more that of letting the natives themselves explain to me through their own words what they saw and felt.
By just hanging out with people in the circles they normally fare in, we have been welcomed as guests, and have experienced unlimited hospitality and a enthusiasm for our project that - at least the strength of it - was unexpected.
So what have I found?
I have found communities based on values. America is still big enough to house people of almost opposite opinions. It differs frm Europe in the sense that we - in our seperate countries - are forced to live by values that not all of us agree with. We endure this because we have no choice; there is basically nowhere we can go if we disagree. That possibility still exists in the US - at least geographically. We have had the pleasure of christian hospitality several places. It has not been the christianity so often depicted in the media - the condemning one of the pastor Fred Phelps and his family.
It has been the hospitality of people who believe in not only the values of the bible, but also the word. The reason to emphasize the values are simple: we have also had the pleasure of visiting the ‘not-so-religious’, even atheists. In those circles the hospitality has been the same. The values of treating each other with respect - although disagreeing (through dialogue) - stands just as strong in these communities.
Every community we have visited seems as a tight knit group of individuals who share not only the same values, but also the same beliefs. And the beliefs are the issue when trying to grasp the american dream: at the foundation of all this lies the innate belief that every man gets to decide for himself. And once he has decided he can voice out his beliefs amongst equals, and usually he’ll end up amongst people who not only share his values but also his beliefs.
These groups of people - be they a town or even a parish in the suburbs of a midsized town - stick together and help each other. They are a close knit group coexisting through not only the same values, but also through the same beliefs - be it the Bible, Torah or Darwin’s thoughts on evolution that create the foundation. Within these small conclaves they find the security that entire nations in Europe so desperately seek.
But even though their beliefs are often expressed in the same way, they always differ on other points. There is always something that will keep them from joining up, always something that makes it utterly impossible to live in harmony. Luckily the country is big enough to keep different factions far from each other.
A point could be made that this is not a country - especially in Europe, the role of the state is viewed in a totally different view. Helping in the US seems to be the role of society, not the state. The society in which you reside will keep you afloat. The people with whom you share a core of beliefs will help you in the way that you and they agree upon. Different groups have different ways of helping, but they will help.
In Europe, the role of the state is seen as much more. It is - one could argue - much more invasive. It will tell its citizens what is the right thing to do - how to help. This in turns sounds insane to the average american: they would agree that you always help the people you know who need it, but certainly you cannot be held responsible for someone to who you have no ties.
The issue as such isn’t with helping or solidarity within the different microcosms that constitute the societies - it’s the fact that they totally, utterly disagree on how to help people. And the state has no role in deciding this for individual and hence society.
I think this is enough for now, but I’ve been discussing the role of the media in the light of these things - especially with the democratic nominations going on. In a few days I’ll try to explain the mechanics of the these elections seen through the lenses of the microcosms that constitute the american dream and society.
End of part one.