While I'm distracted

this is sudsy. It would be one thing if the wannabe militia actually did the goddamn dishes. 

Those little things

that mean a lot. I just don't want to dwell on where bloggers I admire go to chow down. . . 

Not fud, just perspective

But I know, I know. If we let them keep all their money, they will spend some in restaurants. 

Go, internets

For some reason this post -- and the comments it elicited -- gives me absurd hope that the stories behind the promotions will finally be told. Eat your almonds, they said, and next thing you know we have a Torturer in Chief. 

And if food is art

the nominee would have to be melamine in the baby formula?

Not fud, just good

Oogedy-boogedy, indeed. 

Not fud, but we are

doomed. He is the Manchurian Candidate.

I will always remember

hearing about the frantic calls made one afternoon in search of food allusions on deadline -- chefs sharpen knives, she hones her wit by stroking the serfs in the joint. Generally, I stay out of the black hole of comments, but these are worth the journey.

And this explains why we know more about arugula than Walnuts.

Not fud, just enlightening

Also an insight into why print newspapers are dying. Their corporate profits just can't keep up.