Zesty Meatballs

Dear readers, I would like to invite all of you to become fans (if you are not already) of zesty meatballs. Perhaps some of you are vegetarians, or just don't like meatballs. Well, that's not the point. Zesty Meatballs need your support. Here's the link to the facebook fan page.

 

Support your local meatball.

Here is another post about zestiness.

and here's one on the philosophy of meatballs

and rather unclever nicknames like 'saucy meatball'

and the meatball lady's new economic opportunity.

Philosophy of the Meatball

It is an age old question. A tale as old as time. A song as old as rhyme. Why do we like saucy meatballs? Why do we need sauce with meatballs? What makes meatball sauce so saucy? All of these are penetrating, deep questions with no easy answer. Meatball historians have been plagued by these ontological questions since the first meatball showed up on the scene thousands of years ago. Italians will claim the meatball. Americans claim the meatball. Even the Afghanis have a meatball claim. But who is first? Was the meatball created, or has it always existed a priori to our human existence? Do we shape the meatball, or has it shaped us?

This brings us to another interesting subject. Meatball worship. There are cultures in the Pacific islands that believe in an omniscient, omnipresent, omnibus meatball. It is the giver and taker of life. Where the Japanese have the earth or the moon on the back of a sea turtle, these islanders have it all within the deliciously well-seasoned layers of the tropical meatball. The belief is that all life is saucy, delicious, and full of meat. We must embrace it, smother it with sauce, and devour it. Then the meatball has become one with us and we have become one with it.

But what makes a meatball? Is it the meat, or the spherical shape? Is it the sauce, or the spices? The meatball is whole. It is not just its parts. It cannot be entirely meat or entirely ball, just as we cannot be entirely "hu" or entirely "man". If we understand the meatball, we in turn understand ourselves. All meatballs made by man worldwide are symbolic of this greater metaphysical truth meatball. Some are made out of goat, sheep, beef, turkey, or, in some rare cases, people. But regardless of their meat substance they have a unity of shape and purpose. Roundness and edibility. Such is life. Round and edible.

Shark Surfing

Sure, you've heard of surfers having run ins with sharks. You've seen their mangled legs and huge scars. You've heard the horror stories. But there are always some surfers that manage to stay above the shark infested fray. Instead of surfing each day against the odds, in a wait to become bait (shark bait, not jail bait), some surfers have decided to harness the shark for better surfing. No longer is he foe, but a willing friend. Together, the shark gives the surfer a good ride, and the shark gets a nice meal.
In this article from the Sun, you can find out more about this man's successful shark surf.

Shark surfing hopes to become to be a lasting new sport, and if this man's ride was any indication, the future looks bright. Shark surfing hopes to open up entirely new markets and new demographics. For those who live near the ocean, but have infrequent, or paltry waves, a quick shark tow could prove the catalyst for another surf haven. For those who like sharks, or extreme thrill seeking, this is a great opportunity for them as well. And, the basic tools needed for shark surfing are basic.

Here's a shark surfer's kit:

2-10 pounds of bloody meat
1 decent salt water fishing pole
1 surfboard
1 crazy daredevil who laughs in the face of death

After getting past the breaks, the surfer must cast his line out with the meat in hopes of catching a shark. Once the shark latches on, the surfer must then position himself to ride, as if he were riding the Pipeline, all the while holding the rod steadily. After a sufficiently exhilarating ride, the surfer must then drop the pole or cut the line and surf back to shore. Piece of cake.

Strapped for cash: Using homemade barter currencies

Given the current economic climate, a lot of people are strapped for cash. More often than not, this poses a problem. However, it's not a problem for Mrs. Margaret Maylindropper of Altamonte Springs, Florida. For several months now she has been without cash, but has managed to stay afloat by paying everything from her bills and mortgage to her gasoline refills with meatballs.

"I make a zesty meatball. They are extra tender and juicy. No one can resist them. Some people want my meatballs more than cash. In fact, some of the neighborhood kids have set up lemonade stands and the girl scouts just wait outside my house with cookies in hopes that I'll buy some with a bag full of meatballs," said Mrs. Maylindropper.

Mrs. Maylindropper is not alone. Her other neighbor, who chose only to reveal himself as Fred, has also switched to a barter currency. Fred offers foot massages and pita bread. One foot massage is equal to two pita breads. Unfortunately, his pita bread isn't as desirable as his neighbor's meatballs. And, his gas company has claimed his foot massages aren't really that great.

"Look, I'm doing what I can. I can't please everyone all the time. My hands get sore. But hey, I think it's a better idea than what I was going to do. I was going to do face painting and body art," said Fred.

Many in the community are relieved that Fred chose pita and foot massages instead. Melanie McGruber had this to say, 

"Last Halloween he tried to paint me. He had a roller and a can of spray paint and asked what I wanted to be - either a mermaid or a fence. I just couldn't decide, so he made me into a merfence."

The resourcefulness of this community is suburban Florida is commendable. Perhaps the country could learn a thing or to from Mrs. Maylindropper's meatballs and Fred's pita. If you don't have money, don't sweat it, unless, you're using that sweat to make meatballs.

Punching Frozen Meat, a Decent Past Time

It was glorified in the Rocky movies. It never became much of a trend. But now it's on the the rebound. You guessed it, punching frozen meat. While initially the idea of smashing your fist against a rock hard side of beef isn't all that appealing, it turns out it has amazing psychological benefits. Dr. Kroger of Smith's Academy in Plympton, Massachusetts had this to say:

"Many of my patients suffer from anxiety, stress, and bouts of depression. I used to prescribe medication and talk therapy, but last weekend I was watching Rocky, and I stumbled upon a new idea. Instead of trying to alter their dopamine levels with drugs, I could let them regenerate themselves through violence. When I saw Rocky punching that meat I thought, 'Perfect, this is a match made in heaven.'"

Although Kroger's new treatment is highly experimental, it has already been hailed by some as a miracle cure. One of his more serious cases, involving a patient who asked not to be named, praised Kroger's meat punching tactics saying, 

"I used to have horrible daydreams of pink elephants sitting on my head. They would do it for hours and I could only flail my legs and arms in anguish, but now I pretend that the frozen meat is the pink elephant. I can see his cheeky little smile, but he can't sit on me now. Sure, I've broken a few bones in my hand, but hey, no more elephants are sitting on my head."

Stories like this are not uncommon. Apparently punching frozen meat allows the stressed patient to release in a way that in the past was thought only possible with chemical alteration. It has brought a new hope to many.

Dr. Al Murphy, of Sarasota Springs, Florida, had this to say:

"I have tried to find the perfect substrate for my patients to punch out their anger and stress for years now, but I've never been quite satisfied. Pillows didn't give back enough. Concrete gave back to much. Abusing small rodents never felt right. But punching frozen meat, it's like a revelation. I've prescribed punching frozen meat to almost half of my clientele. 

Whether or not the treatment will remain effective for long periods of time is hard to say, but for right now, there's a new hope. You may want to buy your frozen meat to punch before the big rush. Prices are still reasonable with the economic funk the US is in, but as the crisis deepens, demand promises to be higher.

Sandwiches

Some people speak figuratively about 'divine ambrosia,' and 'nectar of the Gods.' Some people use elaborate language and metaphors to describe a good meal. Some people only believe they'll eat well in another life, or in Paris. Well, I have a secret. I found the best food for the best price. I've got your ambrosia right here. And it's between two slices of whole wheat bread.

Sandwiches are delicious, varied, and easy to make. However, they are not easy to make well. And that is why subway hires sandwich artists, and not just employees. You see, a sandwich is not something to be trifled with. It all starts with the bread. The bread is the the foundation. It makes or breaks the sandwich. Bad bread, bad sandwich. After the bread, the next most important ingredient is good sauce and seasonings. There are many options, but you must make sure they work with the bread, and the third most important items, which are meat and cheese. After those, lettuce, spinach, tomatoes, onions, sprouts, pickles, or any other variety of vegetables are fine. And that is the essence of sandwich making. The amount of sauce used, the way you cut it, what layer goes on first, which side is top and which is bottom all matter however, and if you screw it up, you will never taste the nectar of the Gods (or a good sandwich might I add).

But sandwiches were not, and perhaps to some of you, still are not, an art form. Shame on you for thinking that way. The Earl of Sandwich, a British noble, created the idea of putting a meal between bread so he could play cards.  So, a sandwich, while still remaining delicious, is convenient. It allows mobility, and has always been a silent supporter of poker, gin, ratscrew, and even 'go fish.' And what other kind of art can you eat? What other kind of art encourages gambling? What other kind of art is temporary like a sand castle, but so much more memorable and better tasting? None. The sandwich holds it's place. As 'the Count' from Sesame Street said on several occasions:

"I love sandwiches I eat them all the time..."

Well, so do I. And so should you.

You Saucy Meatball

Along the lines of spaghetti and Italian pasta, some of my buddies and I have a different language interaction than most of you. For instance I might call my friend a saucy meatball, a meat sack or something. Some might find it strange, but that's only because they don't understand or are jealous. I've found that men in general have lots of inside jokes and even have covert languages among friends. My friends and I are no exception. For the longest time, a couple buddies from High School and I used the word 'icecream' to signify something. Let me give an example:

"Dang man, that's some sweet ICECREAM over there."

So, yes it was a good thing. Now here's another interaction:

"Hey meatball, we going to the gym?"

Response: "I'm already here meatsack."

And another for you:

"Dude, he's a poacher."

Taken at face value, these little phrases are, for lack of a better word, retarded. Or, perhaps nonsensical. But at any rate they mean something. And that something is far more important than the phrase itself. It is generally coupled with winks, nodds, neck jerks, grunts or angry stares. This way, women are left confused and stay out of the loop. And, even when you think it'd be nice for them to be in the loop, they can't get in even with some subtle hints. For guys, less is more with communication. With girls, more, more, more.

The Manly Man

What happened to the manly man? Did he die off or disappear? Did the heir to his throne become a cross-dressing, hairstyling, shoe horse? It is beginning to look that way. But whether it be a look at what was, or a glimpse into the endangered lives of the rugged few who still proclaim themselves such, we shall define what is a manly man.

A manly man is a rough rider. No, not one of those rolled up pant leg, lunch lady hair net on their head, driving out in an imported Japanese car with shiny wheels and a subwoofer as big as a Cooper Mini – rather the kind that rode out on horseback with Teddy Roosevelt in Cuba to show the Carribean why the west was won – with a six shooter and a mouth full of tabbacy.

A manly man is the king of his domain, his throne is in the bathroom. If his byproducts are not huge and smelly, he’s a wuss, a pretender…even a metro. The bathroom is his sanctuary, and as such he should have plenty of good reading material that deals with what really matters in life, not Ladies Home Journal or a cook book.

A manly man is a man so composed and controlled he can keep his poker face all day long, or stare at the crack on a wall for days at a time without flinching. If the world is falling down outside around him, he can stay still and finish his meal and turn around and give it the old lazy eye and scare it back to normal when he feels like it.

A manly man eats meat. If there were no more lettuce or green vegetables in the world, he would make a salad out of meat slices and barbeque sauce. Meat to the manly man is like oxygen to the normal man.

A manly man does not need a lot of words. Sometimes a nod, a pat or a grunt suffice. Oftentimes these simple gestures are much deeper and more meaningful than words themselves. The manly man language is mocked and is usually indiscernible to women, but if there weren’t Navajo code talkers in World War II, those pansy Japanese still would have had their hands full.

A manly man gives his coat to a lady. The obvious reason is because he’s a warm hairy beast and would overheat if he kept it. A manly man’s hands are so warm he can heat up a hot pocket without a microwave, or pop the last few kernels of popcorn left in the bowl after a movie, instead of getting up and popping more.

A manly man’s fruit roll up is a piece of leather, and his trail mix is sand and gravel. When he tells you his chili is hot, you shouldn’t be able to feel your tongue for a week afterwards.