This re-blog comes courtesy of Esquire. I have to admit, I may have laughed harder than necessary when I first read this. In their own words:
Here's a Monday morning reminder of what "effortless cool" really looks like: Dean Martin's hamburger recipe, which was recently dug up and posted by @LettersofNote and is pictured above. Martin Burgers consist of ground beef, accompanied by chlled bourbon, served on a TV tray. No custom Pat LaFrieda meat blend needed. No brioche bun, fancy homemade condiments, or artisinal cheeses, either. Just meat. And bourbon. Genius.
First of all, if you're not familiar with McSweeney's, you're not living life to the fullest. In my daily readings, I came upon this article and couldn't help but share. Enjoy!
At the airport the young man heard far-off drums echoing in the night. He imagined the young woman in the plane sitting still, hearing whispers of a quiet conversation near the rear of the fuselage. He glanced down at his father’s wristwatch—12:30. The flight was on time.
The plane’s wings were moonlit and reflected the stars. The moonlight had guided him there, toward this salvation. He had stopped an older man along the way, hoping to find some long forgotten words, or perhaps an ancient melody, for such an occasion. The old man had said nothing at first, and instead stared cryptically into the sodden earth. Then he raised his head and turned slowly.
“Hurry, boy. It’s waiting there for you,” the old man had said.
The plane was almost gliding. The young man looked at the wristwatch again. His head spun from whiskey and soda. She was a damned nice woman. It would take a lot to drag him away from her. It was unlikely that a hundred men or more could ever do such a thing. The air, now thick and moist, seemed to carry rain again. He blessed the rains of Africa. They were the only thing left to bless in this forsaken place, he thought—at least until she set foot on the continent. They were going to take some time to do the things they never had.
He stood on the tarmac and watched as the plane came in for its landing. He heard the sound of wild dogs crying out into the night. The man thought the dogs sounded desperate, perhaps having grown restless and longing for some company. He knew the feeling. The crying of the dogs reminded him that he would need to do what he knew was right now that she was here. Of this he was as certain as Kilimanjaro rising like Olympus above the Serengeti. He had traveled and sought to cure what was deep inside him, what frightened him of himself.
The plane landed and stopped. He hurried. She would be waiting there for him.
I'm going to do you a favor. I'm going to take you back to a simpler time, when disco was dying, cocaine was heir-apparent to the most-used-drug throne, and the AIDS epidemic wasn't a twinkle in Satan's eye, yet. Oh, and Star Wars was changing the way we looked at movies in the same way The Beatles changed the way we look at music - let it be known I will hear no argument on either of those points.
However, I think you will concede that Star Wars was a pretty big deal. And the late-70's/early-80's were also a big time for the after-school special and, oh God yes, the public service announcement (Aside: Do PSA's even exist on TV anymore? I don't watch enough network television these days to know...). Wouldn't it be great if someone had thought to combine the two most powerful forces for good in the universe and oh, that's right, they did.
There's a Star Wars PSA about driving under the influence...
...a PSA about childhood immunizations, in which R2-D2 reveals himself as a hypochondriac (which surprised me, as C-3PO seems to be the anal-retentive droid)...
... and one against smoking:
I would like to declare Shenanigans on this one for two reasons: 1) Smoking is cool, kids; and 2) R2 is definitely much older than 3PO, so it seems to me that the protocol droid is the less wizened of the two.
And now that I've saved you from traffic accidents, Polio, and lung cancer, allow me to toss it to an intra-galactic PSA courtesy of PeeWee Herman, who will tell you about the dangers of crack cocaine (the updated version of which would probably be The Wiggles warning kids about meth):
...I find myself blogging again. I know. It's been too long.
But I also know you're excited. And I can't blame you. It's been a busy few months, what with wrapping things up at Kenyon and moving on to my first "grown-up" job as Morning News Anchor for AVC Communications. Upsides: I'm making a living as a disembodied voice presenting the news on six stations every day, and implementing sweeping changes to the way a newsroom operates; downsides: I get to work around 4:00 AM everyday. To hear the fruits of my labor thusfar, as well as the write-up on my first substantial story, you can listen to the AVC News podcast here. (And, not to seem like I'm pushing the brand, but you can hear my dulcet tones daily at the AVC News website.)
Beyond that, my new(s) job is forcing me to embrace social networking technology in ways I never thought I would. And because of that, I'm not exactly proud to say that I joined Twitter today - feel free to follow me, if that's your thing. My first tweet?
Well, I guess I've finally given into peer pressure (isn't that what social networking is?)... So here's my first tweet: http://t.co/4YhyRJb
To save you the trouble, that link will take you to the hilarious YouTube video posted below. You're welcome.
For now, I'm going to sign off. More on my fascinating life later - including details on my new car and Bowtie Fridays. But this ought to keep the Gods of the Internet happy for the time being...
