I recently read an article about Chicago banning restaurants from serving foie gras. The reaction to the ban from restaurant-owners seemed to be, "we laugh in your face, duck torture roolz!"

I mean, literally, the picture accompanying the article showed a man with a huge smile, mocking the ban. Here's the same article. (I couldn't find the one with that pic.)

What's foie gras, you say? From stopforcefeeding.com:

Foie gras literally means "fatty liver" in French. To produce it, young ducks or geese have over four pounds of corn mush forced down their throats through a long metal pipe each day for two to three weeks until they can barely move and are on the verge of organ rupture and death. For a150 pound human, this would be equivalent to 60 pounds of food perday.

Read more here.

I would think that even if I wasn't a vegetarian, and even if I loved this tortured-duck treat and ate it on a daily basis and was against the ban on it, I'd at least have the nads to admit that there is cruel behavior going on, and just not say anything or say something like "I feel guilty but it tastes good so I eat it." As ridiculous as that sounds to me, it would be better than taunting the people who are simply trying to let freakin' ducks and geese live in peace without someone shoving food down their throats.

If there is some kind of afterlife, I hope these prissy food people spend it with gigantic ducks shoving metal pipes down their throats for eternity.

What former Red Sox announcer had a dog called Patches?

Mike Lowell defends Manny Ramirez. Thanks for continuing to be a good man, Mr. Lowell.

"Just because he has weird hair, doesn't mean he fakes injuries," Lowell said. Okay, he didn't say that. I did. But you can read his real quotes in the article linked above.

I stopped by Times Square tonight for the war protest. Not a massive demonstration, but a pretty goood turnout for a fairly spontaneous event. People crowded the middle island and held signs and chanted toward the Army Recruitment Station.

It kind of looks like everyone was pushed to the side of the street, but, again, they were in the middle. I wasn't trying to capture the moment where th guy on the moving billboard sticks his tongue out, but it worked out.

Again, not going for the Bubba Gump shrimp sign... There's something about the way all the shiny capitalism dwarfed this protest, sadly. Pick the symbolism of your choice and run with it.

At one end of the protest, by the recruitment station, three people (including one who reminded me of Cletus' wife on The Simpsons) held a big sign. It said "Warning: Leftists Trying To Demoralize Our Troops." I was very close to just going off on one of the people holding the sign. But I held back. The only time I did something like that was to some old people protesting the abortion clinic back in Danbury.

Great job by Olbermann tonight. He ran down a list of reasons Bush has stated for going to war. Quite comical. Video here. Or click here to read it. Link is to the 4th and final page of the transcript--the best part.

Labels: POSTA POCKIES

As pissed off as I am about Bush and his illegal war and all the people dying for no reason, there can't be anything more disgusting than the New York Yankees. I'm home for lunch today, and as I type, I'm watching the Andy Pettitte news conference. "Here, Andy, here's your number 46 that we immediately gave to Donovan Osborne after you left. Welcome home!"

And they've got my buddy Michael "Backwards" Kay doing the narrating from off to the side. (At least they kept him away from the podium.) He sounds like a golf announcer: "Andy's putting on the pinstriped jersey and the midnight blue hat with interlocking NY."

Now Andy tells us that god put him in Houston for a few years. I thought it was Steinbrenner not giving a shit about "doing what it takes to win" and letting his ass go, but maybe I was reading it wrong. God does wacky things. (He seems to really spend a lot of time on athletes, too!)

Ooh, Andy just admitted what I just wrote: "There may have been times when Mr. Steinbrenner wanted to move me on, and Mr. Torre and Mr. Stottlemyre stood up for me, but we've got a great relationship..." So maybe god told George to do that. I think I've got it all figured out.

Okay, let's bring out the solid gold horse so Andy can ride off to his mansion.

"When we come back, we will talk to the man of the hour, Andrew Eugene Pettitte..." --Michael Kay

Hello, stomach bile. Nice to meetcha.

Actually, this will work out nicely. When I'm at that protest tonight, I'll have a constant stream of Yankee-induced vomit spewing from my mouth. That'll be a nice display of how I feel about the added troops.

Check this list for protests in your area today.

New York: Times Square recruiting station at 43rd & Broadway, 6 PM.

Boston Common at Park Street Station, 4-6 PM.

From Lileks.com:

At the risk of cementing my reputation among the Young and Vital as a laughably inert antiquarian, I must admit that I not only spent 30 minutes prying staples from matchbooks this morning, but that I enjoyed it. I have some time set aside in the morning for archiving, and this month it’s the pry-and-iron project. See, after I’ve removed the matches, I iron the books flat. When I’m done I have a nice neat stack of warm matchbook covers, bound by a rubber band. Eventually they’ll all go into plastic sleeves in a binder. Doing my part to make the estate sale go well!

Love that site.

In a movie, when one person fights a lot of people and beats them all, I'm never too impressed. It's only a movie.

Labels: POSTA POCKIES

Possible problems with... those awesome Ferrero Rocher chocolates:

1. Black bottom part of wrapper separates from gold foil part, leaving an exposed area.
2. Lots eaten at once cause tummy ache.
3. Nut part tastes too "nutty." (I hate nuts, but for some reason I can eat these.)
4. If left sitting around too long, a weird "dust" appears on outside. (Doesn't affect flavor.)
5. Others taking them without consent.
6. Inside dried out.

Let me know what else you've found.

Labels: possible problems with...

Here's the latest non-news on Drew.

Last night I had Josh Beckett nightmares. He was in some room going absolutely crazy, throwing folding chairs around and yelling. It was really scary.

Bush is sending more troops to Iraq, because...he's following George Costanza's "do the opposite" philosophy? Show Bush what a terrible job he's doing by protesting. Here in New York, people will be gathering in Times Square tomorrow, Thursday, at 6:00 PM.

If taking drugs is morally wrong, what do you call using your power to keep someone from what they rightly deserve because you have personal issues with them?

Think positive thoughts for Jim Ed today. Hall of Fame. Jim Rice. Today. No more messin' around, voters. A non-vote for McGwire is a vote for Rice.

Gators 41, Buckeyes 14. I sat here in this room with Chan as we watched Florida win basketball's national championship nine months ago. Tonight I sat here with him as we watched them win the football title. Nice year for Chan and his alma mater.

Tonight, my roommate Chan's school, the University of Florida, plays for the national title against my friend Jim's school, The Ohio State University. Either way, a Yankee fan gets another championship. I'm just pysched for pizza. Yesterday I realized how cool it is to have an event to look forward to on Monday night. It extends the weekend in a way. So, it's game time, and then a four-day week. And Fridays don't count. And tomorrow will be over before I know it. And Thurdsday is burrito night, so that doesn't count. One-day week, people.

Two years ago, my mom got my sister and I tickets to a Bill Murray interview in NYC as a Christmas present. This year, she got Chan and I tickets to a Martin Short interview. Nice job on both, mom. Good lookin' on the New York Times interview series.

Last time, I had front row seats. This time it was general admission, and we weren't at the front of the line to get in, but amazingly, Chan and I spotted two empty seats in the front row and nabbed them. It was cool to see Short in person. Like Bill Murray, he's one of those people that makes me laugh at the sight of him. In person, the effect is multiplied by eighty. (Seventy-five, eighty...) But he's also been a part of some skits that are legendary in my family and hopefully yours: The synchronized swimmers ("I'm not a very strong swimmer."), Jackie Rogers, Jr. ("It's like Pyramid, but different."), Ed Grimley ("I get to meet Pat Sajak!"), and Nathan Thurm ("It's him, right?"). And who could forget his roles in such Jere classics that nobody else remembers such as Clifford and Pure Luck?

The interviewer, Jesse Green, was a pretty good match for Short. Definitely better than Murray's. He was a little talky-talky at first, but then he pretty much let Marty take over. Short had just (earlier today) wrapped up his Broadway show, so there was a lot of talk about that. In it, Short creates an entire fictional backstory to his own life. In the interview, we learned that that's because he prefers that over talking about his own Canadian upbringing, which was fairly normal and filled with humor. But then he proceeded to tell us about it anyway. I guess we were special. He said he preferred the Buffalo-based American TV channels, as a kid, to the Canadian ones: "You had products like Bosco and Charmin. I was dying to squeeze the Charmin."

Throughout the interview, we were shown clips from Short's career. After seeing himself dance in Three Amigos and Innerspace, Martin said, "I have one dance and two haircuts...[laughter]...and seven homes." While the clips rolled, I watched Martin's reaction to his past (Shorty watchin' Shorty?). It was interesting to see. At one point he gave a look like "Why would I have done that?" And he really enjoyed watching the various scenes he played with Mr. Steve Martin.

He talked about the synchronized swimmer skit, saying that he'd just broken his collar bone, which added to the comedy of his jerky arm movements.

There was much Jiminy Glick talk, of course. He said the funniest thing in the world to him was Don Knotts' Barney Fife character. The false bravado covering up the extreme insecurity. I just pretended he was talking about Mr. Furley.

It was a really good time. Martin hinted at this show being the end of his career, and how he thinks going out on a high note is just as cool as entering strong. But then he told a story about Frank Sinatra's retirement, and how he ended up coming back again and again after that. Right now, Short needs to be with his family. He'll be back with something, I'm sure.

Terrible job by the interviewer toward the end. Right before the audience Q & A, they were having trouble with the mic out in the crowd, leaving us in silence. So the guy says, "this is that dreaded dead air." Short, without missing a beat, breaks into the classic "crickets chirping noise." We all busted out laughing, as he does the noise really well--to the point where Chan said he thought it was a sound effect. Okay, so we're all comfortable in knowing that Martin imitated crickets to symbolize the silence...except the interviewer, who follows up with "the famous bird calls of Martin Short..." Ugh. I was so embarrassed for the guy. Chan later said I overreacted to this. TJ, Chan. Everyone in that room knew what that noise meant, except Interrogator McNulty there. And he had to go and ruin the joke. My guess is that the guy grew up in a city and doesn't equate chirping with silence.

Now I will go to sleep to the sound of pitter-patter outside my window. (No, sir, that doesn't mean there are kitty cats prancing on the window sill.)

But before I go, check out this random article. It's got some good info, as well as what folks in publishing refer to as a "stack." The word "elected," four-high.

Posta Pockies is a cartoon made by me. Each episode will be a snapshot in the lives of two teenagers who may or may not be the last humans on Earth. It's really more like a single-panel comic strip. It will run as often as I choose, at no set time, here on ARSFIPT. The rules of Posta Pockies: Comments directed at me, the characters, or other readers are welcome. Feel free to discuss it amongst yourselves in the comments section, in your head, or in real life. But no questions about Posta Pockies will be anwered by me. Why? I dunno.

Labels: POSTA POCKIES

Sox hats were abound yesterday in the 70-degree weather in Central Park. Click to enlarge. Top right: orange frisbee in flight.

Last week on Letterman, a Top Ten list mentioned USC kicker Mario Danelo. I'm pretty sure they just used a random Trojan player's name to fit in with the condom-related joke they were going for. Last night, I clicked on espn.com, and saw "USC kicker Danelo found dead." I wouldn't have known the name if it weren't for that Top Ten list. Weird. I guess the dude fell off a cliff...

Seeing Bill Parcells lose is always fun. Seeing him lose a game when it's easily in his team's grasp is even better. And when that team is the Dallas Yankees--I mean Cowboys--it's even better than better. It's best. I've been lucking out on these football games lately. I rarely purposely put one on, but it seems like I flip by right at the right moment to see some Fantastic Finishes (Alcoa presents).

Tonight, Chan and I are going to a live interview with Martin Short. I've been a fan since Jackie Rogers, Jr. $100,000 Jackpot Wad.