Nico
Muhly,

I want to preface this post (I promise this will become relevant by Paragraph 3; if you are offended by foul language or whaling, however, you should probably skip this post) with one of my favorite little bits of the English Language. A few years ago, the rapper Trick Daddy gave an interview thus:

Q: Speaking of purchases, are you still one of Ralph Lauren’s biggest customers? After all, you were one of the first rappers to rep his Polo line in your songs.
A: I don’t fuck with Polo no more. We reached out to Polo in 1997 when “Nann Nigga” was real big, and everybody knows that once I said I was going to wear Polo that the whole South went Polo crazy. It was never designed for Black folks, ’cause the clothes really ain’t big enough. But I did that, and they followed me. We called them and was like, “Listen, I have an artist that’s biggin’ up Polo big. He got all the kids in the South wearing it. He doesn’t want no money, he just wanted to know if there was a way he could order stuff that nobody has?” The general manger of sales said that they not interested in nothing like that and they would appreciate if I didn’t even say they name in my rap. Fuck Ralph Lauren faggot ass and everybody he know.

So, a few things. First of all, the song Nann Nigga is an amazing and genius thing which everybody interested in language should check out. Second, the wikipedia page on it is one of the few times I have gotten involved in editing a wikipedia page. You can see some of my handiwork in the “Song Theme” subheading. But what I adore about this Trick Daddy quote is the last sentence, which performs three simultaneous delights: the metonymy of “ass” representing the entirety of Ralph Lauren, the idaafa of faggot-ass, which I use constantly, and, of course, the act-locally think-globally Powers of Ten explosion attendant to “and everybody he know.” It’s incredibly efficient. Anyway, moving right along.

Did everybody watch that random lady’s espeech at the convention? She is fully absurd. The part that bothered me the most was her backhanded stabbing motion at Community Organizing. Check out this post for more on that. In the words of Trick Daddy, fuck Sarah Palin faggot ass and everybody she know.

In other grassrootsy news, can somebody please tell me what Children International is? Why have they, more than any other group, decided that the corner of Broadway and Houston is where they’re going to get enough signatures to do whatever it is that they’re doing? I went to their website and it seems like it’s all in the department of abusively romantic post-colonial nonsense: In this sliver of a country, crowned by the rugged, snowcapped Andes and colored by dense emerald forests, poverty and prosperity rest side by side. Hmm. Don’t say “sliver.” I am always suspicious of causes that approach one on the street. Once upon a time, I used to fake crying to avoid being spoken to by those people; now I dress severely enough and walk with an intense enough gait that they generally know better. These days, though, in the reckless self-expression festival that is NYU Move-In week, people are more aggressive. The thing that makes me the most angry is Greenpeace. Now, I am about as far left as you can get, politically; I try to minimize the air miles on my food, buy local etc., all that. I am one of those radical biblical interpreters who thinks that “stewardship over the earth” translates to “conservation” rather than “let’s drill.” But something about these Greenpeace kids really pisses me off. “Don’t you want to save a whale,” they asked me today? Mm, whale. Minke whales, which I totally eat on semi-regular basis:

…are estimated to consume 633,000 tons of Atlantic herring per year in part of Northeast Atlantic. In the Barents Sea, it is estimated that a net economic loss of five tons of cod and herring per fishery results from every additional Minke Whale in the population due the fish consumption of the single whale.

Fine, good, so, Å“conomically, you can totally eat them, see? Because Cod overfisking and all that? Right, anyway. Two recipes:

Seared Whale
Get about a kilo of whale. If you have gotten it from the sketchy-ass butcher downtown, soak it in cream overnight. If you have gotten it from Þín Verslun, which is super bougie, then you should be ready to roll same day. Slice up a ton of onions, garlic, and ginger root. Heat up a pan. Sautée the onions, garlic, and ginger root in butter and olive oil for about two minutes, and take it out. Let the pan get wicked hot again, and put the whale chunks in, searing on each side for thirty seconds or so. Make sure not to overcrowd the pan, as I have idiotically done in the illustration at left. Meanwhile, totally simmer the aromatics in oxtail broth, or whatever other stock you have sitting around. I have successfully done this with bouillon this one time but I had had a lot to drink. When the whale is sufficiently brown, pour the broth and aromatics over, simmering for about thirty minutes. Serve over potatoes.

Whale Melt
Take yesterday’s leftover seared whale chunks and potatoes and chop them up. Let them get to room temperature. Grill two pieces of bread in butter, and put the whale hachis on top of the bottom piece. Put cheddar à volonté on top, allow to melt, serve very hot with a pickle. Illustration below:

The minute I get an embossing machine I am going to start handing out cards with these printed on them to those Greenpeacers next time they come up into my personal space on Broadway talking about “do you have a minute for the whales.” I told your ass, it takes only thirty seconds to sear it! If you take a minute, it’s going to be overcooked and you and your guests are going to be very unhappy campers.